BLACK BAG

The “black bag” of which they speak in Steven Soderbergh’s BLACK BAG is, so far as I understand (…and so far as Wikipedia tells me), a reference to a covert operation, a subject about which I know very little (as intended, I guess, given said operations are… covert…), as opposed to a layperson’s understanding of the term “black bag” which is more likely to reference a bin bag (or, possibly, a handbag not unlike the Hermes Birkin in black crocodile leather currently on offer for a piddling £80k on Vestiaire, which I covet and visit daily).  It is a very handy term and a great answer to prying questions if you, like Mr and Mrs Smith-wannabes George (Michael Fassbender) and Kathryn (Cate Blanchett), are in the business of covert operations, e.g. as she finishes her tea and heads off to work, “What is your meeting on a bench at a train station in Riga at precisely 11.07 am this morning about, exactly?” “Black bag, darling.  Black bag.”

That’s about as far as my comprehension of the film BLACK BAG goes, I’m afraid.  It was all very complicated in a spy thriller-James Bond-Ethan Hunt kind of a way, with lots of references to something called Severus, which is a code somehow connected to nuclear weapons or power and not (I can tell you and thereby save you from the bafflement I endured for a considerable part of this film…) a Roman Emperor.  Unlike the Bond and MISSION IMPOSSIBLE franchises, the complicated plot is very much secondary to the relationships between Mr and Mrs and their four unruly spy protégés, played by a very starry cast of that guy from BRIDGERTON, that gal from INDUSTRY (and BACK TO BLACK, the underrated Amy Winehouse biopic), that gal from the Bond films and that guy from STRIKE (which I’ve never seen, but who is excellent and unrecognisable in FURY ROAD and made for a wonderful Orson Welles in David Fincher’s MANK, a film somewhat lost to/by/on Netflix, and who I am seeing in THE SEAGULL with Cate Blanchett tomorrow - yay!).

The four kids in the BLACK BAG spy family outshine their parents, imo: two of our best actors and movie stars, Fassbender and Blanchett, somehow add up to a total far less than the sum of their parts.  Their performances are very stagey and the roles’ perceived need for “Englishness” leads to studied accents and an on-the-nose wardrobe: she wears a classic Burberry Waterloo Heritage Mac, if I know my Macs (and I do), and he wears a Barbour and a flat cap… literally… seriously.  The result is a keen awareness of an Australian and a German-Irishman playing dress up and feigning allegiance to the Union Jack, which makes it very hard to suspend one’s disbelief and go with the flow.

For a spy thriller (if that is what this is…), BLACK BAG is oddly short on action.  There is one scene where a missile strikes a car and it blows up, but said car was on a country road without any other traffic.  The next most exciting bits happen in a tiny fishing boat on a quiet lake, also in the middle of nowhere.  Hmmm… were other locations not available?  Not The Shard?  Nor Buckingham Palace?  Nor the Emirates Stadium?  We have quite high expectations of locations for this type of fare and it seems Soderbergh and co had no intention of meeting those expectations.  I can imagine the pitch meeting was something like, “Let’s make a spy thriller, but let’s double down on the spy bit and not bother with the thrill bit.”  And I can also imagine a budget meeting going something like, “So you want Cate Blanchett, Michael Fassbender, Tom Burke, Naomie Harris, Rege-Jean Page and Marisa Abela…. Okay…. Have you thought about shooting this key action scene on an isolated fishing pond?  And this bit doesn’t need to be on the M1, does it?  There’s a lovely country lane with no other cars I know of in Lancashire.”

The majority of the film’s “action” takes place around the dining table at Mr and Mrs’ absolutely incredibly beautiful house (I knew I should’ve been a spy!  I could’ve had the house and the Mac and Kathryn St Jean probably has a crocodile skin Birkin in her huge closet, too), first at a dinner party with the film’s six leads, then for the conclusion and ‘big reveal’.  Both are very, very long, drawn out scenes, the first preceded by a minute or two of Mr preparing the meal and, for a moment, I was convinced Michael Fassbender had mad knife skills (which is a very, very attractive quality, gentlemen) and then I realised they are unlikely to be his hands, such is the miracle and mystery of marvellous movie-making (and I know this because my ex-husband played Jude Law’s hands in the remake of ALFIE - true story!). Both are well written with particular kudos awarded to the dinner party scene, and I can’t help but think this spy-thriller minus the thrill should have been a stage play.  Maybe?  Long scenes around dining tables make for excellent theatre, right (although there are no ponds on West End stages so far as I know…)?

Anywho, I write this rambling post from a small table in a rather lovely French wine bar near my house and I am distracted by the couple to my left.  They have been smooching between sips of wine, irritatingly, and so while I don’t believe this is a first date, it is definitely not a fiftieth, and she just bored him to near-death by talking about her Uncle Dave, a firefighter in Toronto, and, seeing him start to nod-off, changed the subject and said, I quote, “My family is crazy.  Have I told you about the murderers?  No?  Two of my cousins murdered their husbands: one with poison and the other with a gun.”  Ermmmm.  It is really saying something when there is more thrill and intrigue in my local wine shop than in a Steven Soderbergh film.

Thrills or not, BLACK BAG has some great moments - how could it not with that cast? - and I’d happily give up £15 and 97 minutes just to see Cate Blanchett swoosh around that fantastic house in that beautiful coat, but I can’t help but think an opportunity for something spectacular has been squandered.  It’s not “leave it on the street for the rubbish collection”-level ‘black bag’, but nor is it a crocodile skin Birkin. ⭐️⭐️⭐️