Sundance ’20: Ironbark

His father was an officer in the White Army, but Oleg Penkovsky’s military service during the Winter War and WWII earned him the trust and confidence of the Communist Party, allowing him to rise high in the ranks of the GRU (military intelligence). His decision to supply sensitive information about Khrushchev’s plan to deploy nuclear missiles in Cuba is considered a crucial turning point in the Cold War. (Plus, in Tom Clancy’s novels, he is also responsible for recruiting the titular double-agent in The Cardinal of the Kremlin.) Penkovsky played a risky game, but his partner was an amateur, Greville Wynne, recruited precisely because he would not act like a spy. Their cloak-and-dagger relationship is the focus of Dominic Cooke’s historical espionage thriller, Ironbark, which had its world premiere at the 2020 Sundance Film Festival.

In 1960, Col. Penkovsky (codename: “Ironbark”) was technically the chair of the Soviet Committee for Scientific Research, but his real duties were with the GRU. He was therefore privy to military secrets and present for many of Khrushchev’s bellicose tirades. The combination of the two convinced him the First Secretary’s policies represented a grave danger to the Soviet Union and the rest of the world, so he found a very clever method to reach out to the Yanks. Unfortunately, the CIA was particularly weak in Moscow after the detection and execution of their prime source, Major Pyotr Semyonovich Popov. That means CIA Agent Emily Donovan must work with MI6, who rather cleverly recruit businessman Greville Wynne, a sort of small-time Armand Hammer, who had already done deals in captive Warsaw Pact nations.

Since trade and technology fell under Penkovsky’s purview, it does not raise any red flags (so to speak) when Wynne makes contact through official channels. For his own protection, he knows nothing about the intelligence he carries from the GRU officer to Donovan and her MI6 colleagues. Of course, he develops a pretty good guess when the Cuban Missile Crisis ignites. He might not be a spy, but he’s not an idiot either. As suspicion starts to fall on Penkovsky, Wynne agrees to return again, at the risk of his life and freedom, even though his wife suspects him of having another affair.

Ironbark is the best real-life Cold War thriller since Spielberg’s Bridge of Spies—and it just might be even better. It is a highly compelling portrait of friendship and an absolutely chilling depiction of how the Soviet system oppressed and terrorized its people. We see the insides of KGB prisons as well as their ruthless interrogation techniques, all of which are horrifying to witness.

Most importantly, Ironbark still functions as a tense, intrigue-drenched thriller that takes on grandly tragic dimensions during the third act. This is a painstakingly crafted period production, with every little detail reflecting the early 1960s time period (for appropriately depressing effect). Likewise, the cast uniformly look their parts.

As Wynne, Benedict Cumberbatch runs quite a spectrum, from the shallow but likable twit MI6 recruits to the resolute man of conscience risking everything for Penkovsky. Frankly, it looks like he did a De Niro crash diet to look properly malnourished in later scenes. Yet, the Oscar-worthy standout, knockout performance comes from Merab Ninidze (who also co-starred in Bridge of Spies and the once-censored Stalinist allegory, Repentance) quietly commanding the screen as Penkovsky. It is a smart, deeply humanistic portrait that brings all of the Colonel’s inner conflicts to the fore.

Disowned by Bergman: This Can’t Happen Here

Scandinavia and the Baltics are ethically and socially similar, but their Twentieth Century history could not be more different. The great auteur Ingmar Bergman was keenly aware of that Scandinavian-Baltic divide. He was married to Estonian concert pianist Käbi Laretei for five years—a good run, by his standards. He also helmed this 1950 curio about Soviet spies infiltrating the Baltic refugee community in Sweden, featuring many Baltic refugees in the cast. As Bergman’s stature grew, he did his best to keep his odd little espionage film out of circulation. Fortunately, it still survives—and has even been digitally restored by the Swedish Film Institute. It is bucket list time for Bergman devotees, because This Can’t Happen Here is now screening at MoMA.

Like an episode of Law & Order, many of the names in TCHH have been changed to protect the guilty and the innocent. For instance, Atka Natas (anagram alert) is a ruthless spymaster for Liquidatzia, a transparent analog for the Soviet Union. He has come to Sweden (which is still Sweden, but was Norway in Waldemar Brøgger’s source novel) with an attaché case full of documents in hopes of defecting to the West. However, it seems his real goal is to continue tormenting his estranged wife Vera Irmelin, a chemist granted political asylum.

Not surprisingly, Irmelin wants none of him and will do what it takes to protect herself. Of course, the Liquidatzians want them both back, unsafe and sound. Frankly, they are openly contemptuous of the Swedish authorities. Nevertheless, her rather chaste Swedish romantic interest (a forensic chemist with the C.I.D.) has a bit of fortitude, despite being hopelessly polite.

Taken at face value, TCHH is an undeniably creaky but diverting little film noir that also functions as a nifty visual time capsule of its period. However, the context and subtext that go along with it are fascinating. First of all, this is a Swedish anti-communist film, which alone makes it rather special. Signe Hasso is also terrific as Irmelin, in a Swedish homecoming performance. Although she had not exactly been the toast of Hollywood, she had prominent roles in films like Heaven Can Wait, A Double Life, and The House on 92^nd Street.

Yet, all the talk in the film about refugees and expat communities sounds especially timely in 2018, as Sweden struggles with huge influxes of refugees from the Middle East. Apparently, the Baltic refugees were much easier to assimilate, even with Soviet agents running amok, shooting at them.

Ironically, TCHH was conceived for the export market and largely funded with tax credits, but it reportedly only screened in a handful of UK theaters. You could chalk it up to Swedish socialism, except Sweden has never been as socialist as leftists like to think (especially not in 1950). (FYI, the land of Bergman and Saab currently ranks #15 on the Heritage Index of Economic Freedom, while the USA comes in at #18. Historically, Sweden has spent a good deal on welfare programs, funded with progressive tax rates—as Ingmar Bergman’s notorious tax problems can attest—yet there is comparatively less regulation and property rights are scrupulously respected, but perhaps we digress.)

That all makes TCHH an even weirder, less likely bit of Bergmanalia. At times, Bergman stages it like an out-and-out farce, but Gunnar Fischer (his first great collaborating cinematographer) frames some strikingly noir images. Particularly notable is the use of Stockholm’s King Charles XII statue, which famously points towards Russia, in what is widely considered a call to vigilance regarding a longtime historical foe.

Bergman keeps it all surprisingly spry, while Ulf Palme chews the scenery with sinister glee as Natas. It is highly watchable in an old-fashioned kind of way, but there is no way it would screen for a week at MoMA without the Bergman connection. Regardless, there just are not going to be a lot of opportunities to see TCHH, so anyone interested had better get to MoMA this week. Recommended for its historical interest and some game performances, This Can’t Happen Here screens daily through Tuesday night (9/11), at MoMA.

The Spy Gone North: The Partly True Story of “Black Venus”

Instead of a shoe phone, he has a StarTAC. It doesn’t sound impressive now, but in the mid-1990s, it was perfectly respectable—and would not attract undue attention. The man code-named “Black Venus” is known here as Park Seok-young, but many details about his life and mission have been changed in this real-life le Carré-esque tale of espionage, based in part on the deep-cover operative’s notes. North-South relations are murkier than ever in Yoon Jong-bin’s The Spy Gone North (trailer here), which opens this Friday in Los Angeles (next Friday in New York).

Park is a true patriot, who sacrifices a promising career in military intelligence for this long-term mission. After establishing a history of alcoholism and debt, Park turns up in Beijing, posing as a dodgy businessman looking to import profitable North Korean goods via China. However, his real goal is too gain access to North Korea’s nuclear facilities in Yongbyon.

It will take a lot of trust-building just to be invited into the notoriously closed pariah state. The plan is to cultivate Ri Myung-woon, Kim Jong-il’s western-educated finance guru, who is primarily tasked with acquiring as much hard currency as he can for the cash-strapped regime. The affable quickly forges a rapport with the more reserved Ri, but Jung Moo-taek, the state security liaison is openly suspicious (and hostile).

Nevertheless, Park manages to sell first Ri and then Big Brother himself on a sketchy joint venture to produce commercials in the North to appeal to South Koreans’ nostalgia and desire for unification. It is quite a coup for Park, but it is all jeopardized when his handler, NIS Director Choi Hak-sung changes the mission parameters mid-stream. Suddenly, Park is also supposed to act as a go-between brokering a Wag the Dog incident to benefit the hawkish ruling party in the South.

Ideologically, Spy Gone South has a cargo-tanker full of baggage to unpack. On one hand, there is a clear suggestion of Machiavellian moral equivalency between North and South. Yet, it also unambiguously addresses the famine ravaging the People’s Republic during the nineties. It also makes it clear anyone who disappointed the Kim Dynastic regime would be purged and condemned to a prison camp, along with their entire families. In fact, Kim the Second is portrayed on-screen—very much as a wacked-out, unstable, odd duck. It is therefore hard to imagine this film getting much of a reception up North, despite its clearly dovish, pro-unification sympathies.

Regardless, on a more basic, formalistic level, Spy Gone North serves as quite a tight, tense espionage thriller, fully stocked with close calls and mounting paranoia. Hwang Jung-min is perfectly cast as the unctuous-on-the-outside, tense-to-the-breaking-point-inside Park, if that is indeed his name. He can radiate a sense of danger like nobody else acting in film today—and as Black Venus, he cranks it up to eleven.

Yet, we expect that from Hwang. The real surprise is the depth and uncertainty Lee Sung-min brings to the film as Ri,0 in what might be his career best work. Plus, Ki Joo-bong is so jaw-droppingly amazing as Kim Jong-il, we literally fear for his safety. Park Sung-woong, one of our favorite actors working today (especially in morally ambiguous roles) is weirdly under-utilized as Park’s oblivious South Korean partner in the advertising venture, but just having him on-board is reassuring.

There is a great deal of complicated intrigue that unfolds during the film, but even though Yoon never skimps on the Smiley spycraft details, he still keeps the pacing snappy. The takeaway is rather muddled, but it is just a lot of fun to watch the big name cast sneak around, conspiring against each other. Highly recommended, The Spy Gone South opens this Friday (8/10) at the Los Angeles and Buena Park CGV Cinemas (and next Friday in New York, at the AMC Empire).

CAIFF ’16: Despite the Falling Snow

Nothing generated bad karma like Soviet Socialism. Nobody understands that better than a defector like Alexander Ivanov. Even though he attained wealth and success in New York, he is still haunted by the events surrounding his sudden departure. Taking advantage of the Glasnost thaw, Ivanov’s niece will try to investigate her murky family history in Shamin Sarif’s adaptation of her novel Despite the Falling Snow (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 California Independent Film Festival.

Their styles are radically different, but Lauren Ivanov is the spitting image of her aunt, Katya Grinkova. Alexander Ivanov successfully found asylum in America, but Grinkova never made it out of the USSR. Intellectually, Ivanov has a very good idea of her probable fate, but the guilt and uncertainty have tormented him for years.

Ironically, it was Grinkova who was the American intelligence source. Although she played the model Soviet citizen, she bitterly resented the Communist system for executing her parents during the dark days of Stalinism. She initially bedazzled the true believing Ivanov on the orders of her handler, Ivanov’s colleague Misha. However, the mission really gets complicated when Grinkova and Ivanov genuinely fall in love. Most of this will come as news to Lauren when she travels to Moscow for an art exhibition. She even starts to get some answers thanks to the help of a reformist journalist, but the mysterious Marina has her own agenda in play.

Sarrif combines an elegant memory play with a period espionage thriller to tell an intriguing tale, in which the toxic past continues to corrode the present day (circa 1992). It is a smart and sophisticated, but it is not necessarily out to re-ignite the Cold War. Nevertheless, whenever the Soviet apparatchiks have the chance to do something despicable, they never let it go to waste. There is a bit of le Carré-style moral ambiguousness, but it is pretty clear the KGB was far worse than their western counterparts—and most bacterial diseases.

Rebecca Ferguson is just terrific as Grinkova and her niece. She gives two performances so different in look and temperament, she could easily pass for two people. As usual, the eternally reliable Charles Dance enriches the film with his steely gravitas and commanding voice, which are so well suited to suave old Ivanov. Sam Reid is bit bland and unassuming as his younger self, but Oliver Jackson-Cohen chews the scenery quite nicely as the darkly charismatic Misha. As Marina, Antje Traue’s intriguing screen presence also cranks up the sexual tension, in keeping with the themes of Sarif’s prior films, I Can’t Think Straight and The World Unseen.

Falling Snow is a classy film that hits the right tragically romantic notes. Sarif handles the constantly shifting timelines relatively well and ties it all together into a satisfying package. Recommended for those who enjoy an old fashioned Cold War melodrama, Despite the Falling Snow screens this Sunday (9/11) at the Orinda Theatre as part of this year’s CAIFF in the East Bay.

NYFF ’15: Bridge of Spies

In 1986, Soviet Refusenik Natan Sharansky gained his freedom through the final Cold War exchange conducted on Berlin’s Glienicke Bridge. Brooklyn attorney James B. Donovan found himself negotiating the first. At trial, he had represented convicted Soviet spy Col. Vilyam Fisher, a.k.a. Rudolf Abel, a British born KGB agent, who had narrowly escaped Stalin’s purges during his time with the NKVD. Presumably, the Russians will want him back, just as America wants Francis Gary Powers safely returned. To negotiate the deal in his unofficial capacity, Donovan navigates the murky political waters of Berlin during the final days of the construction of the Wall in Steven Spielberg’s Bridge of Spies (trailer here), which screens as a Main Slate selection of the 53rd New York Film Festival.

Donovan the kind of stickler lawyer you do not want to be haggling with. Since he was also a junior member of the Nuremberg prosecution team, the Brooklyn Bar helpfully nominates him as Abel’s attorney. Although not thrilled, Donovan does his duty more diligently than anyone anticipates. Nevertheless, Abel is convicted, but conveniently not sentenced to death.

Sometime after U-2 pilot Powers’ capture and show trial, Donovan receives a strange overture from East Germany. With the CIA’s blessing but no official portfolio, Donovan tries to negotiate an Abel-for-Powers deal, but it is complicated by the arrest of American economics student Frederic Pryor on transparently bogus espionage charges. Suddenly the dodgy Wolfgang Vogel representing the GDR wants to swap Pryor for Abel, while the Berlin KGB station chief is willing to deal Powers for Abel.

While there is a bit of le Carré equivalency baked into screenwriters Matt Charman and Joel & Ethan Cohen’s depiction of the respective intelligence agencies, there is no denying the oppressive bleakness of East Berlin. Production designer Adam Stockhausen’s team vividly recreates the rubble strewn streets, bombed out blocks, and ominously imposing Berlin Wall. To his credit, Spielberg also shows exactly what happened to those who tried to scale it.

Of course, Donovan is exactly the sort of exceptional everyman that has become Hanks’ specialty. While he brings an instant credibility and a certain comfort level to the character, he never delivers any surprises—only sniffles as Donovan endures an awful cold. On the other hand, Mark Rylance is weirdly mesmerizing as the off-center Abel, precisely because of his restraint. It is like his face is a Rorschach test, which you cannot stop staring at.

For traditional villainy, Sebastian Koch chews plenty of scenery as Vogel, but he gets somewhat shortchanged on screen time. However, nobody is as embarrassingly unnecessary as Amy Ryan, playing an underwritten Mary Donovan, whose sole function in the film is to hassle her husband to bring back Harrods marmalade from his supposed fishing trip to Scotland.

Thanks to Stockhausen and cinematographer Janusz Kaminski, Bridge looks terrific, but it is relentlessly over-scored by Thomas Newman. Instead of evoking a noir atmosphere, he indulges in symphonic sentimentality. Granted, it is a Spielberg movie, but it sounds too much like a Spielberg movie. Just imagine what could have been if someone like the great Tomasz Stanko (a Krzysztof Komeda protégé) had composed its themes instead. Regardless, there is plenty of striking work on view, including that of Mr. Dreamworks himself, who still has eerily keen instincts for maximizing the emotional impacts of his shots. Recommended for reasonably enthusiastically for fans of Spielberg and espionage movies, Bridge of Spies screens again tonight (10/5) at Alice Tully Hall as part of the 2015 NYFF, in advance of its October 16^th theatrical release.

KCS Korean Movie Night: Commitment

It is hard to get more Zeitgeisty than a film about North Korean purges.  You can ask Kim Jong-un’s uncle about it, if you have a Ouija board in your pocket.  A teenager recruited out of Yodok prison becomes a pawn in Kim’s brutal succession plan in Park Hong-soo’s Commitment (trailer here), which screens for free this coming Tuesday in New York, courtesy of the Korean Cultural Service.

Ri Myung-hoon had always done his duty as a sleeper spy, so he expected to return home to his son and daughter, right on schedule.  Unfortunately, the Communist regime does not give out gold watches.  Instead, they betray Ri’s father and imprison his family.  Since he is a real chip chiseled off the old block, a crafty old spymaster offers Ri a chance to save his sister Hye-in.  Posing as a defector, he will hunt down the assassin from a rival North Korean spy faction killing members of his sleeper cell.

To maintain his cover, he will also spend some time in high school, where he meets Lee Hye-in.  Besides her name, something about her reminds him of his sister.  As a disciplined undercover operative, he valiantly resists the urge to lay a beat down on the bullies that torment her, but it is obviously just a matter of time.  Likewise, the plots in Pyongyang will soon embroil Ri and nearly every other sleeper.

It is easy to see why Commitment’s blend of action and tragic teen angst would be popular with Korean audiences, but it is also a rather astute reflection of the current geopolitical climate.  Although Park served as assistant director on Jang Hun’s wishful thinking unification thriller Secret Reunion, Commitment is more closely akin to Ryoo Seung-wan’s neo-Cold War spy drama Berlin File.  It clearly implies Kim Jong-un is a ruthless Machiavellian and forthrightly addresses the plight of political prisoners.  On the ROK side, the most sympathetic figure is Cha Jung-min, an unreconstructed Cold Warrior, whereas his “keep the lines of communication open” superiors are portrayed as craven opportunists.

Korean rapper T.O.P. (a.k.a. Choi Seung-hyun) is surprisingly credible in his considerable action scenes.  When it comes to high school drama, he certainly broods well enough.  As Lee Hye-in, Han Ye-ri also projects a somewhat reserved screen presence, so they feel right together, even if they do not burn up the set.  Amongst a strong supporting cast, Yoon Je-moon’s Cha hits the right note of rumpled exasperation, while Kim You-jung is arrestingly fragile as sister Hye-in.

Despite several nifty fight scenes, American audiences would probably prefer a higher action to teenage angst ratio.  Still, it is probably the best spy film since maybe Berlin File.  Often smart and tense, Commitment is a fascinating example of the ever shifting manner the two Koreas are depicted in the cinema of the ROK.  Recommended rather highly (especially for free), Commitment screens Tuesday (1/14) at the Tribeca Cinemas, thanks to the Korean Cultural Service in New York.

Tribeca ’13: Mobius

In Russia, today’s captain of industry is tomorrow’s rogue oligarch.  Even sponsoring the next head of the FSB is not enough to protect one tycoon.  Instead, it makes him a liability.  An agent specializing in sensitive assignments will target the shadowy money man through an attractive employee, leading to all sorts of complications in Eric Rochant’s Möbius (trailer here), which screens at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Gregory Lioubov commands an FSB team pretending to be a Monaco police task force, attempting to turn Alice Redmund, a brilliant trader for with a scandalous past.  Redmund works for Ivan Rostovski’s multi-national firm, but she also secretly reports to an American handler.  Realizing the Russians are putting a play on Rostovski, the CIA instructs Redmund to play along with the task force she still assumes are local cops. 

When Lioubov accidentally picks up Redmund to protect his cover[s], it compromises them both.  Suddenly, Redmund is hiding their burgeoning affair from the jealous Rostovski while Moïse, as Lioubov calls himself, scrambles to keep his incompetent subordinates in the dark.  Then things really get tricky.

Möbius is pretty steamy stuff by espionage movie standards.  These spies definitely come in out of the cold.  As Lioubov (or whoever) and Redmund, co-leads Jean Dujardin and Cécile de France have real chemistry and are not afraid to go all in.  However, the rest of the cloak-and-daggering is not bad either.  While there seems to be a bit of an anti-American bias, at least it is rather muddled.  The FSB on the other hand is clearly portrayed as a nest of vipers indistinguishable from its previous incarnation as the dreaded KGB.

In a change-up from his Oscar winning turn in The Artist, Dujardin brings a dark, brooding physicality to Lioubov.  De France is a respectable femme fatale-anti-heroine, but Tim Roth nearly steals the show as the erratic British educated Rostovski.

Rochant nicely juggles all the feints and double-crosses as the film alternates between romanticism and cynicism.  Cinematographer Pierre Novion gives it all a stylish noir polish that should satisfy genre fans.  Recommended for patrons of French cinema and cerebral spy thrillers, Möbius screens again tomorrow (4/27) and Sunday as part of this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

The Berlin File: DPRK vs. ROK in a Unified Germany

Like any good socialist system, power in the DPRK is transferred along hereditary lines.  Kim Jong-un has just succeeded his father Kim Jong-il.  However, a power struggle for day-to-day control over the country’s lucrative arms dealings, their only source of hard currency, will engulf at least four intelligence agencies in Ryoo Seung-wan’s The Berlin File (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Officially, Pyo Jong-seong is a national hero of the People’s Republic.  He is so good at his covert duties, he remains a “ghost” to western intelligence databases.  Assigned to close an arms sale to an Islamist terrorist group brokered by the Russians, Pyo is quite put out when the Mossad crashes the party.  Jung Jin-soo is also rather out of sorts as well.  The South Korean operative was hoping to bust the Northern Koreans, but the third party intervention blew his operation.  One of the few remaining Cold Warriors in an office full of appeasers, Jung’s position becomes rather precarious politically.  Of course, Pyo is in a tighter spot.

Technically, Pyo is above reproach, but his wife Ryun Jung-hee is not.  As he learns from the Ambassador, Ryun has fallen under suspicion in Pyongyang.  Dong Myung-soo, a well-connected special agent has been dispatched to investigate her as the Israelis’ presumed informant.  Pyo has some rather difficult history with Dong, so he cannot expect any favors from the Communist operative.  Meanwhile, the South Korean Jung is out to get Pyo to avenge his comrades.  A pariah in his own agency, Jung only trusts the council of his CIA contact, Marty, perhaps the film’s only genuinely likable character.

A pleasant surprise from Ryoo and the Korean film industry, Berlin File is one of the best espionage films since Tinker Tailor, in which the true villains are North Koreans and Islamic terrorists.  America does not factor greatly in the story, aside from the sympathetic figure of Marty.  While the South Korean intelligence service does not cover itself in glory, all their dubious actions are done with the intent of making nice with the North.  In short, writer-director Ryoo basically nails the geo-political realities.  He can also stage a wicked fight scene.  Just watching Pyo’s concluding throw-down will make your back wail in pain.

There are indeed some impressive action sequences, but Ryoo is even more effective tapping into bone-deep themes of betrayal and loyalty.  He really puts Pyo and Ryun through the wringer and doesn’t do Jung any favors either.  As a result, Berlin should be tragic enough to be a monster hit in Korea and sophisticated enough to appeal to American fans of international intrigue.

Ha Jung-woo (who blew the doors off dark thrillers like Nameless Gangster, The Chaser, and Yellow Sea), is all kinds of bad as Pyo, convincingly portraying his conflicted loyalties and mounting disillusionment.  Although international superstar Gianna Jun is almost entirely de-glamorized as Ryun, she is still quite a presence, surprisingly affecting in several key scenes.  Berlin also boasts a great supporting ensemble, particularly including Lee Kyoung-young, who plays the Ambassador with a moral ambiguity that really keeps viewers off-balance, and John Keogh, appealingly cynical as the friendly neighborhood CIA agent (benefiting from the generous helpings of English dialogue, nicely punched-up by American screenwriter Ted Geoghegan).

Shot almost entirely on location in Berlin and Riga, Berlin File captures the chilly, paranoid vibe of old school Cold War thrillers.  Ryoo manages to add the amped-up mayhem of his Korean action pictures (like Troublemaker, for instance), while maintaining the best of both worlds.  Highly recommended for fans of action, espionage, and Ms. Jun, The Berlin File opens this Friday (2/15) in New York at the AMC Empire.

Restless: The Cold War for American Public Opinion

Who would benefit from keeping America out of the war in Europe?  It is a question that will preoccupy a former British secret agent all her life.  She was supposed to be set-up in a manner that would badly discredit the British intelligence community with the American public.  She was also supposed to be dead.  However, the Russian exile has more lives than a cat in the Sundance Channel’s two part mini-series adaption of William Boyd’s Restless (promo here), which kicks off this Friday night.

When professional Cambridge student Ruth Gilmartin pays a visit to her mother’s country home, she finds the woman in the throes of paranoia, or so she presumes.  Sally Gilmartin claims there are people watching the house from the surrounding tree-line.  It all has something to do with her service as a spy during WWII.  At the time, she went by her real name, Eva Delectorskya.  Initially, this is all too much for Gilmartin to accept, but the site of a shadowy figure in the woods gives her pause.  Reading her mother’s file, she gets the gist of the story viewers see in periodic flashbacks.

A former Russian aristocrat, Delectorskya is recruited by British intelligence in France after her brother is murdered by Fascist thugs.  Lucas Romer will be her handler.  Although he is not inclined towards any sort of emotional involvement, sparks will eventually fly between them.  Delectorskya turns out to be a natural agent, but her missions are often rather dodgy.  Yet, somehow disaster always turns into success, at least within the agency bureaucracy.

Transferring to New York, they both assume roles at a dubious wire service that specializes in releasing disinformation to mislead the Germans.  From time to time, a little field work is required to plant an especially sensitive story.  Delectorskya assumed that was all she was doing when she accepts her fateful assignment to Albuquerque.  Unfortunately, she soon discovers someone at the agency sold her out.  The consequences of that ill-fated mission will linger for decades.

What more can you ask of a miniseries that gives you Charlotte Rampling buying a shotgun?  She plays Delectorskya/Gilmartin like the strong, intelligent woman she would have to be.  Downton Abbey’s Michelle Dockery also looks the part of her daughter, but her shocked incredulity goes on far too long.  In fact, the first installment does not lack for exposition, but the second part pays off with interest.

When the elements are all in place, Restless becomes quite a rich feast of skullduggery, helmed with a fair degree of style by Edward Hall.  As young and old Romer respectively, Rufus Sewell and Michael Gambon might not exactly be the spitting image of each other, but they are definitely at home with the murky intrigue.  A strong ensemble from top to bottom, character actor Adrian Scarborough makes a particularly strong impression as Delectorskya’s ally, Morris Devereux.  However, as the resilient young Delectorskya, Hayley Atwell is a bit pedestrian, lacking the Mata Hari allure one would expect from her.  Still, she becomes Charlotte Rampling, which is something.

While Boyd’s screen adaptation of his own novel is smart and tense down the stretch, his nondescript title never seems particular apt, but no matter.   Restless is a quality period production long on atmosphere that should satisfy for regular viewers of Masterpiece Mystery and BBC America’s mystery-thrillers. Recommended for fans of British television and espionage junkies, Restless begins this Friday (12/7) on the Sundance Channel and concludes one week later (12/14).

Smiley Returns: Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy

Five ghosts haunt John le Carré’s most celebrated spy novel. The shadow of the so-called “Cambridge Four” spy ring, including the treasonous Kim Philby and Anthony Blunt, looms large over the story, especially given the circumstances of their private lives. The fifth of course, is Sir Alec Guinness, who is so closely associated with the role of mole-hunter George Smiley. However, Obiwan Kenobi should be smiling down on Gary Oldman, who confidently assumes the Smiley mantle in Tomas Alfredson’s appropriately cerebral adaptation of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Smiley once was the deputy chief of the Secret Intelligence Service (a.k.a. MI6, but known colloquially as “The Circus”), but he was forced out with his boss, known as “Control,” when an operation went spectacularly wrong. As a result, a field operative (or “scalp-hunter” in Circus parlance) was captured, effectively ending Control’s related mole-hunt. Unfortunately, it turns out the late spymaster was not so paranoid after all, as the minister begrudgingly admits when he brings Smiley back into service to furtively investigate the four top officers of the Circus, code-named by Control: Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, and Spy (skipping “sailor” from the old nursery rhyme, because it is too close to “tailor”).

There are no explosions in TTSS, nor is there a whole lot of shooting, but when it happens, it is significant. Instead, we watch as Smiley pieces the puzzle together, interviewing a diverse cast of professional thugs and bureaucrats, gleaning tantalizing clues from each resulting flashback. Yet, perhaps most intriguing are the glimpses we get of “Karla,” the notorious Soviet intelligence mastermind (played by a rarely seen Patrick Stewart in the classic BBC series, no less). Smiley might be chasing a mole, but his real adversary is definitely Karla, who fully understands his retired rival’s weaknesses.

Gary Oldman is the key reason why the revamped TTSS works so well. In a way, Smiley could be considered the dark side of his Commissioner Gordon persona in the Dark Knight franchise. Like Guinness, he plays Smiley’s cool detachment in a way that makes it clear the gears are turning furiously within his head. Occasionally, he even seems to adopt some of Sir Alec’s cadences and mannerisms, but that is fine. Frankly, those familiar with the prior incarnation will rather want to hear that echo.

TTSS also features at least a dozen genuinely first class British actors, some famous and some who should be. John Hurt’s casting as Control is so perfect it requires no explanation. Likewise, Toby Jones, Colin Firth, and Ciarán Hinds add plenty of color as the Circus’s inner circle and Smiley’s prime suspects, by extension. Yet, it is the intense and dynamic supporting work of Mark Strong and the soon to be famous Tom Hardy as scalp-hunters Jim Prideaux and Ricki Tarr that really crackle and hum.

Alfredson has helmed a sleek and brainy espionage thriller (one can see a certain kinship with his frosty, Nordic vampire tale, Let the Right One In), but it is definitely a product of the le Carré school of Cold War moral equivalency. Smiley himself explicitly states there is no ethical distinction between us and them. Even the mole himself eventually explains his decision to betray his country was largely based on aesthetics (which seems bizarre, considering he should be fully versed in the glories of Socialist Realism). Frankly, given the wealth of revelations that have flooded out of the former Soviet bloc, such revisionism seems like a dated relic of the 1970’s, but at least it matches the pseudo-retro vibe of the film.

TTSS is an absorbing big screen intrigue, even though it is relatively easy to guess the mole’s identity, solely on the basis of screen-time allotment. (Frustratingly, this means one of the best actors of our day is rather short-changed in the process.) Still, watching Oldman’s Smiley is the real show, following not just in the footsteps of Guinness but also the great James Mason (who played the character, inexplicably renamed Charles Dobbs, in Sidney Lumet’s moody but effective The Deadly Affair). He is worthy successor, deserving serious Oscar consideration. Recommended for intelligent viewers who enjoy films about Intelligence, TTSS opens this Friday (12/9) in New York at the AMC Lincoln Square and Village 7.

Cold Warriors: The Double

The Cold War is over, technically speaking, but a lot of unfinished business remains. A notorious Soviet assassin is one of those loose ends. Never captured but presumed dead for years, the American intelligence services are slightly concerned when the body of a murdered senator bears the signature techniques of the killer code-named Cassius. Unfortunately, the game is afoot once again for his temporarily retired CIA nemesis in Michael Brandt’s The Double (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Paul Shepherdson thought it all ended with a bang. Cassius’s body was never recovered, but since the killings stopped, closure appeared to be achieved. Years later, the Senate’s leading critic of neo-Soviet Russian aggression is brutally murdered. Pointing to a few variations here and there, Shepherdson insists it is the work of a copycat. However, FBI analyst Ben Geary is certain it is Cassius’s work. He is also something of an expert on the old Soviet bogeyman, having written his master’s thesis on Shepherdson’s investigation. Reluctantly, the CIA veteran agrees to an inter-agency odd-couple pairing with Geary, trying to pour cold water on his enthusiasm every step of the way.

Refreshingly, the Russians and the Soviets before them are the villains in The Double, while the Americans simply scramble to counter their infiltration campaign. (It is a bit of a stretch making the murdered hawkish senator a Democrat and his Russian puppet counterpart a Republican, but if that is the concession that had to be made, so be it.) On the macro political level at least, Double is quite sound and realistic.

Double takes great delight in springing two big twists on the audience, yet inexplicably gives away the first one in the trailer. Several more follow, which naturally alter our perceptions of characters a second time. While viewers will be primed for the second switcheroo, Double has some very smart investigative detail that makes the dot-connecting process considerably more engaging than usual.

As Shepherdson, Richard Gere has the right steely, grizzled presence, maintaining a consistent world weary character throughout his character’s revelations. Frankly, Double is his best work in years (maybe since Chicago). Conversely, Topher Grace’s Geary looks like a mere boy among men. Granted, he is a rookie, but he does not even looking convincing wearing a suit. His presence is a major albatross weighing down the film. Still, the film has Martin Sheen suitably commanding as CIA director Tom Highland and True Blood’s Stephen Moyer nicely projects feral cunning as Brutus, the only captured member of Cassius’s team.

In his directorial debut, 3:10 to Yuma co-writer Brandt maintains a decent if not exactly breakneck pace. He has a nice handle on the details, but never delivers a centerpiece action sequence. Still, Double is a solid Cold War-reloaded thriller genre fans and Russophobes should enjoy when it opens Friday (10/28) in New York at the AMC Empire and Village 7.

Hannay Returns: The 39 Steps

Richard Hannay is one resilient chap. He has foiled German spies in three film adaptations of John Buchan’s classic novel, The 39 Steps, including Alfred Hitchcock’s first acknowledged classic. Recently, he also appeared in an affectionate stage spoof of the beloved 1935 Hitchcock film that delighted both West End and Broadway audiences. He returns again in a new BBC production of The 39 Steps (trailer here) faithful to the source novel’s original pre-WWI setting, which airs this next coming Sunday on PBS’s Masterpiece Classic.

Hannay is a man of the world. A mining engineer recently returned from South Africa, he finds 1914 London deadly dull. However, when his neighbor Scudder barges into his apartment claiming German agents are trying to kill him, at least Hannay has an excuse to draw his revolver. Of course, Scudder turns out to be correct, unfortunately convincing Hannay the hard way, but not before slipping him a coded notebook. On the run for a murder he did not commit, Hannay heads north, hoping to prove his innocence by exposing the Scotland-based spy ring.

In many ways, Hannay is considered the prototypical Hitchcock protagonist—the innocent man pursued by both the villains and the legitimately law, trying to figure out the Macguffin along the way. However, this Hannay is a man who can take care of himself, boasting rather handy knowledge of explosives and a talent for cracking ciphers. While in the Hitchcock film Hannay finds himself handcuffed to his innocent traveling companion, his romantic interest in the new BBC version is far more substantial: Victoria Sinclair, a suffragette with a photographic memory.

39 Steps is a classy period production in PBS’s Masterpiece Mystery! tradition. Although it is prohibitively unfair to compare it to the Hitchcock classic, director James Hawes keeps the chase moving along briskly, navigating the twists and turns rather deftly. The pre-WWI period details all look right and are quite enjoyable as the trappings for an action-adventure story (vintage car chases, burning fuses, and the like).

While there are departures from the familiar Hitchcock, there are still several common scenes. Like the 1935 version, Hannay again finds himself addressing a political gathering through a case of mistaken identity. Sharply written, Hannay’s remarks to the local Liberal Party mocking their naive appeasement give the new production a sly jolt of humor (and may even outdo the original).

Again, it is hardly fair to compare Rupert Penry-Jones to the great Robert Donat, but he is a more than credible gentleman-protagonist. Lydia Leonard, familiar to some viewers from HBO’s Rome, also makes a pleasing romantic foil, not overdoing the bickering banter while never appearing as a clichéd damsel in distress. The great British character actor Eddie Marsan (Inspector Lestrade in Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes) is also perfectly cast as the squirrely, ill-fated Scudder.

39 Steps offers good, clean skullduggery, presented with the patina of British respectability. On par with the quality of many theatrical releases (and superior in so many cases), Steps is easy to recommend on free TV. It airs on PBS through the auspices of WGBH and Masterpiece Classic Sunday (2/28) at 9:00pm E.S.T.