Game over
I can't remember the last time I saw Brad Pitt in a
movie where he wasn't beaten to a bloody pulp. I've
read enough about him to know that he resists the
sexiest-man-alive image that's been dumped on him, and
that he seeks films where he might be allowed to look
"ordinary," or at least dirtied and damaged. Perhaps
he sees this as an acting stretch, or perhaps he is
(vainly) hoping that viewers will forget just how
pretty he is. Whatever. He still looks amazing in
Spy Game, during the course of which he ages
some 15 years, and miraculously, never changes a bit,
except, of course, when he's beaten to that pulp. Then
his eye swells up and face is bruised.
In Spy Game, Pitt plays a CIA assassin who's
gone "rogue" for a reason that is, needless to say,
very good and that will be disclosed as part of the
thriller plot. The movie opens as Tom Bishop (Pitt),
also known as Boy Scout, is pretending to be a doctor
delivering cholera inoculations, in order to sneak
into a Chinese prison to rescue an unknown someone.
After some tense seconds -- conjured by director Tony
Scott and DP Dan Mindel's spiffy cinematography and
Christian Wagner's adroit cross-cutting -- the plan
goes terribly wrong, Tom is captured and held in a
room where he is tortured mercilessly for the rest of
the film. It looks really painful, too.
Obviously, the movie needs some other plot to make it
go, and so... cut to Tom's estranged mentor,
superduper CIA agent Nathan Muir (Robert Redford),
back in Washington DC (this location is typed across
the bottom of the screen, after some very slick
zoom-swish-time-lapsing camera jerks, so you can feel
like you're keeping up). Nathan wakes in his bed,
alone (this looks like it might be crucial info, that
a guy who looks like Redford is sleeping alone, but it
only sort of means anything later), picks up his
phone, gets the serious news from a contact in Hong
Kong that he needs to "hustle," because "Boy Scout's
in trouble." Good thing he has a speedy, fine-handling
green Porsche Carrera to get him from his apartment to
the office, where it happens to be his last day before
retirement. Wouldn't you know: before he can shred his
files and pack up his snapshots and plaques, there's a
horrible crisis to be sorted out.
Unsurprisingly, since he's played by Redford,
Nathan's been a bit of a problem for the Agency
himself. The year is 1991, so the CIA is pretty proud
of itself and defiantly insular, and populated with
smug types, including Harker (Stephen Dillane) and
Folger (Larry Bryggman), who aren't exactly unhappy to
see Nathan go. But now that Tom's capture is likely to
trigger an "international incident" (spy-speak for
"U.S. embarrassment"), they have to deal with nemesis
Nathan one more time. Most of the film consists of
their insidious questions to him about Tom, and his
beautifully lit recollections of his relationship with
Tom, from start (1975 Danang, just before the U.S.
retreat from Vietnam, where Tom proves to be a
phenomenal sniper) to recruitment (in West Berlin) to
finish (they fall out in Beirut in the late '80s, when
Tom rejects the slippery morality that Nathan seems
able to embrace so coolly).
These flashbacks are punctuated by returns to the
grilling room, as the suits look for a reason to let
Tom be executed by the Chinese (who have conveniently,
for movie-plotting purposes, promised to kill him in
24 hours -- I must have missed just why they tell the
CIA this little tidbit). Lucky for Nathan, he's got a
brilliantly trustworthy secretary, Gladys (underused
Marianne Jean-Baptiste), with her own bones to pick
with the Agency, apparently just on general principle.
As Tom's life hangs in the balance, these two work a
clever game throughout the day, slipping in and out of
CIA file rooms and phone lines with alarming ease.
The premise is that Nathan is a really excellent spy,
surrounded by numbskulls. He spots all the file titles
that the other guys carry into the grilling room in
plain sight (and close-up shots so you're sure to see
them) and keeps getting pages from his "wife" (the
pager, also shown in close-up, indicates to you every
time that the caller is GLADYS) that somehow never
alert the suits to his shenanigans. While Nathan takes
these calls, his back turned to the room full of his
questioners, they proceed to talk about the case,
supposedly behind his back but loud enough that he can
hear everything they say. Yeesh: what kind of outfit
is this CIA anyway?
Co-written by David Arata and Michael Frost Beckner
(the last also responsible for 1993's predictable
Sniper, 1995's ridiculous Cutthroat
Island, and CBS's new CIA melodrama, The
Agency), Spy Game is a buddy romance more
than a thriller. The boys bond in spectacular fashion
-- with a series of CIA "situations" (i.e.,
assassinations) as backdrops -- such that director
Scott deploys his usual boy bonding rituals,
explosions and gunfire and such, as a means to
character and relationship development (this is the
man who, as everyone knows, made the equally smart and
hateful Top Gun). Much like Goose and Maverick,
Tom and Nathan share an intimacy based on their mutual
love of risk and fear of commitment: who better to
love than someone who's bound to betray you or die?
Spy Game's flashbacks reveal a potentially
complex father-son/romance combination, and create a
strange nostalgia. The beginning of the relationship
is especially rosy: Nathan is impressed by Tom's
talent (he learns fast how to case a room, drive like
crazy through streets late at night, evade capture by
puking in front of pesky cops, and charm his way into
strangers' apartments), and Tom is likewise enamored
of Nathan's smooth self-awareness. Eventually, though,
they spat, with a major blow-out on a great-looking
rooftop (a Fuji Film billboard featured prominently as
the camera circles them again and again) over the
value of human lives (or "assets" as they call their
informants). Nathan, it seems, is more cynical than
Tom wants to be.
They finally break up in Beirut, when Tom meets a
girl, Elizabeth (Catherine MacCormack), a foreign aid
worker who may be a nutcase or a spy herself. Nathan
does his best to mess with this heterosexual romance,
but only because he's looking out for Tom. At this
point, the film drops the flashback structure to focus
on Nathan's 1991 efforts to get Boy Scout out of
China. The editing speed increases, the office
subterfuges accumulate, and Redford, bless him,
recalls his glory days in Three Days of the
Condor: Nathan goes even goes so far as to call up
CNN in an attempt to mess with CIA spin control,
though it doesn’t have quite the same world-saving
effect as it did back in the olden days, since
everyone's in bed with everyone by 1991.
In other ways as well, Spy Game is
overdetermined by its historical moment, presenting
the CIA's secrecy as a function of security clearances
and specific smug types, rather than a pervasive
inability to keep track of its agents, collate,
interpret, or productively share its information. The
film's assumptions about the Agency, are, in a word,
Before September 11, before top secret government
agencies (CIA, FBI, etc.) were revealed as not doing
what they've been pretending to be doing all this
time. (And, given recent revelations that information
on terrorist threats was available and forewarnings
were officially reported to CIA and other authorities,
the scope of this fatal ineffectiveness is only
beginning to surface.)
Spy Game can't or won't address such issues
-- it was made Before September 11, after all -- but
even within the limits of its fictional spy "game"
sensibility, it is depressingly unthoughtful. Even
Before September 11, most everyone paying attention
knew that the CIA participates in assassinations,
corrupt financing, and innumerable dirty deeds,
demanding a capacity for cruelty that cannot be made
public (you know, you can't handle the truth). But
Spy Game can't admit that, and suggests instead
that the moral men (and they are all men) inside the
system can still pull it out, that action-packed
crises are the result of individual, not systemic,
failures.