Anyone who saw The Thomas Crown Affair in cinemas in 1968 would likely have first been drawn to the phrases printed on its promotional poster: “A thrill a minute for a million dollars,” and “McQueen and Dunaway are partners in crime.” They would then have entered a dark theatre, sat in a red velvet seat, which was soon to become their launching pad into a world of colour and emotion.
The film’s titles open with a captivating, colourful sequence accompanied by Michel Legrand’s nostalgic score “The Windmills of Your Mind,” a piece that would go on to win the Academy Award for Best Original Song in 1969.
The story is about a millionaire businessman named Thomas Crown (Steve McQueen) who orchestrates a bank robbery in the city of Boston. Throughout the film, none of his accomplices ever meet him, and they do not even know each other before the heist. The robbery itself takes up nearly one-third of the film, and Crown ultimately succeeds in stealing two million dollars, which he transfers to a bank in Switzerland.
Is the robbery scene poorly and implausibly constructed? Or, as critics later argued, is it unrealistic? Perhaps. Do we really need to see how a wealthy, intelligent thief calls his associates—each waiting in telephone booths across the city—and tells them, “Now’s the time!”? No.
But immediately after the initial suspense fades, and once the film fully embraces its genre (crime), the audience realizes that the story is not actually about a bank robbery, but—as the title correctly suggests—about a relationship (The Thomas Crown Affair can indeed be translated as “The Relationship of Thomas Crown”). A thrilling yet dangerous relationship that keeps the viewer curious until the end: who will win, and who will lose?
Norman Jewison, in this film, used the “multi-image frame technique” for the first time in Hollywood to depict the coordination of five men executing a bank robbery. A technique originally developed and used by Canadian filmmaker Christopher Chapman in his Oscar-winning 1967 short A Place to Stand.
After the successful robbery, an insurance investigator named Vicki Anderson (Faye Dunaway) is hired to work with Boston police detective Eddie Malone (Paul Burke) to find the thief. Vicki intuitively suspects Thomas Crown as the mastermind and enters his private life to recover the money. This is where the real story begins—the affair of Thomas Crown.
Throughout the film, Vicki examines Thomas’s private life, which is full of excitement, pleasure, and danger. They dine together, drink wine, race a car along the Massachusetts coastline (who doesn’t love McQueen’s stunts?), sleep together, and spend long hours on the beach.
Meanwhile, with Detective Malone’s help, Vicki eventually finds the getaway driver of the robbery, who has never seen the mastermind. She sets up a plan to bring Thomas and the driver into the same room, hoping the driver will recognize his voice. The plan fails, but for Vicki, Thomas is not only still the prime suspect—he is now the only mastermind left in the world.
At sunset, Thomas takes Vicki to his luxurious home. In the library, she notices a chessboard laid out on the table, ready to be played. Thomas asks, “Do you play?” Vicki confidently replies, “Try me!” and the film’s iconic erotic chess scene begins—a scene the director called “the longest kiss in Hollywood history.”
Haskell Wexler’s cinematography, with masterful use of shallow focus, practical lighting, and fluid camera movement, elevates the chess scene inside the dark, old library. Combined with Michel Legrand’s dreamlike score, McQueen and Dunaway create one of the most luminous romantic sequences in cinema. The actors’ physical and facial performance, along with the chess game itself—a symbol of their intelligence and strategy—contribute to the scene’s grandeur.
Life is satisfying, but over time, sorrow overtakes Vicki. Gradually emotionally involved with Thomas, she becomes worried about the future. Once, on the beach while they are enjoying the sea view, she anxiously asks, “Have you ever brought anyone else here?” revealing how vulnerable she has become compared to the beginning of the relationship.
The film ends with Thomas organizing another major heist. This time, he informs Vicki of the plan to ensure she stays with him. Vicki prepares for the day of the robbery, but things do not go as she expects.
Although the film was criticized for its narrative weaknesses, for audiences who view cinema not as a sequence of events but as an emotional experience, The Thomas Crown Affair remains timelessly respected.
At the end of an article by Renata Adler, published in June 1968 in The New York Times, the critic invites readers to watch the film. She writes: “The film opened yesterday at the Astor Cinema, at the intersection of 34th Street and East 86th Street.” As I read this article, unconsciously humming “The Windmills of Your Mind,” I suddenly wished I had been there: summer 1968, New York, the premiere of The Thomas Crown Affair.
