In Martin Scorsese’s spectacular “The Age of Innocence,” 1993, paintings and sets are almost indistinguishable; so lush is every scene, so composed every frame. The film is set in 1870’s New York high society, a realm where virtually nothing mattered more than your house’s interior decoration.

Seven-time Academy Award nominee Dante Ferretti’s brilliant production design insured that every detail was letter-perfect. The sets, props and costumes are every bit as luxuriant as the paintings on the walls. Collectors will want to watch the movie frame by frame, itemizing wish lists of china, crystal, furniture and wall hangings. The film is like a visual encyclopedia of decorative arts of the period. Paintings such as Tissot’s “Too Early” or Bouguereau’s “The Return of Spring” not only decorate characters’ homes, but they also speak to the taste (or lack thereof) of characters through other character’s eyes. References to the paintings are even made in the film’s narration.

In “The Freshman,” 1990, starring Marlon Brando and Matthew Broderick, Leonardo da Vinci’s “Mona Lisa” hangs above the Godfather’s mantel, not so much to illustrate his taste, but to indicate the scope of his wealth and criminal influence. It’s a popular (and not easily disproved) theory that after da Vinci’s “La Gioconda” was stolen in 1911, six or seven copies were made and sold to super-wealthy patrons as the original. Some posit that the work returned to the Louvre was, in fact, one of those copies, and that the original remains missing. “The Freshman” tweaked that possibility.

Unfortunately, such witty efforts don’t always work. Although director James Cameron spent millions on expeditions down to the actual wreck of the Titanic, he spent somewhat less in researching art history for the film. Rose, our heroine (played by Kate Winslet), brings a cache of newly purchased paintings aboard the doomed liner. They include water lilies by Monet, dancers by Degas and most conspicuously, Picasso’s “Les Demoiselles d’Avignon.”

Notwithstanding that “Demoiselles” wasn’t displayed publicly until 1916—four years after the Titanic sank—the notion that a 17-year-old American heiress would have the connections and the aesthetic wherewithal to buy it (or even a study of it) is, well, ridiculous. Rose, supposedly, is a true visionary. Sort of. When asked the artist’s name, she has to look at the painting to find out. “Picasso,” she reads. The pay-off comes when her fiancé—the cad—remarks: “He’ll never amount to anything. Trust me.” Picasso, of course, was well-known by 1912 and had already completed dozens of masterpieces. He was five years into Cubism, standing at the very pantheon of modern art. But why let facts stand in the way of a good scene?

And that, sadly, is what such art references usually amount to in the movies: a set-up for a joke or a prop used to expose the wit, intelligence and sophistication of an important character. That these inclusions usually reveal precisely the reverse—how dimwitted and careless the film’s producers are—is a fitting irony. What did Warhol know anyway? If it’s art you’re looking for, head to the gallery, not the video store.