The Man Who Died Twice

I don't know how to consider this strange movie, in the right mood of the first part of the seventies, showing aimless, sort of vagrant of life, characters, looking for a purpose in their life. But I don't get what the art forgery element can be put into this scheme. The touching romance between Stuart Whitman and Brigitte Fossey is far enough to make this story interesting, without being interfered with this painting intrigue where I feel so confused. The summary would be to insist on the difference between people interested in art, only for money, and those - like Whitman - for pure art and meaning of life.