A mole has been detected within the ranks of MI6.  George Woodhouse (Michael Fassbender) is charged with investigating, and the polygraph expert plans to start his search by hosting an intimate dinner party for the list of suspects.  Freddie Smalls (Tom Burke) and his younger girlfriend and satellite expert, Clarissa Dubose (Marisa Abela) are invited along with Dr. Zoe Vaughan (Naomie Harris), the in-house therapist for the division, and her partner, Col. James Stokes (Regé-Jean Page), with Kathryn St. Jean (Cate Blanchett), George’s wife, rounding out the guest list and being tipped off to avoid the truth serum spiked chana masala by her doting husband and host. 

Director Steven Soderbergh reteams with screenwriter David Koepp for Black Bag, a 94-minute spy thriller released by Focus Features.  The film bypassed any festival premiere and opportunity to get this buzzy cast on the radar of potential audience, opening on 2,250 screens.  For those that follow film, this might as well be a March tentpole given the pedigree of all involved, but with a little extra care in the marketing of this film, Focus could have shepherded this into a strong hold over title at the start of a rather back loaded month of many mid-budget titles.  Sleek, sexy, and with news of Amazon’s usurping of James Bond still fresh in the mind, Black Bag scratches the espionage itch, but Koepp’s script has a few other tricks on the page opening it up for even broader appeal. 

Fassbender leads the film with a steely coolness that matches the ungenerously but not incorrectly described muted film.   In a way, he is saddled with the straight man role in a world that, as is so often the case, far more interesting than he seems to find it. Because much of the film is filtered through his lens, Black Bag is almost standoffish, putting up its back to us under-credentialed audience especially in the first act as the mysterious program “Severus” is often referred to but never expanded on until much later, but even after we are causally welcomed into the fold, the cast across the board are comfortable rushing and mumbling through their lines with jargon that we have to just keep up with or be left behind in the rat-a-tat cadence of their delivery.  With a flair for hosting, it makes sense then that George is our anchor for the film. From our perch as a fly on his dark coated walls adorned with modern sconces which gives the room a candlelit feel, both romantic and dangerous, during the contentious opening dinner sequence, we feel glad that we are not being interviewed and toyed with by this psychological detective.  Privy, like George is, to the threat of a mole, we attach ourselves to our host more out of necessity than any initial magnetism in his performance, but we are quickly lulled into the deep crevices of the narrative and the thrill of witnessing something private we should not be, that we follow George as our beacon through this story that would otherwise feel like falling into a trap, or getting into something way over our heads. To be certain, we feel overwhelmed as we witness – and possibly become culpable to – George overstepping his boundaries and bending the rules, risking getting caught, but that is all part of the wild experience that is Black Bag.

This protective streak is absolutely purposeful as it mirrors development of the story where George begins to realize that his wife may be the vulnerability within the agency, and torn between duty to country and duty to home, George proves that he takes both of his oaths to the absolute brink of their sincerity.  As this thread is explored, Koepp’s scripts begins to shed the notion that it will be strictly a spy thriller, and transforms itself into a relationship drama – and at times an almost mean-spirited romantic comedy – set in the world of espionage. 

Occupying the lion’s share of the second act of the admittedly brief film, Black Bag becomes an engaging and slightly dangerous, though not dangerous enough, story about the lengths one will go to protect the one they love. The problem here is that while the film is beginning to take shape as this romantic thriller, the spy plot is also competing for attention and it feels all off balance.  The performances are all sharp as ever so we stay engaged throughout, but we are constantly torn between wanting to see George and Catherine flirt with disaster while we are also thrilled at watching the incredibly unhappy ensemble tear each other down, while we thirdly finally feel like we are caught up to speed on “Severus” and the nuclear consequences that would result should it fall into the wrong hands, only to realize that the program is essentially a MacGuffin we chased so that we could become ensnared in this messy workplace situationship.   

The film is doing a lot, but in this almost guerilla style of in and out filmmaking that has occupied much of Soderbergh’s current output, the short run time really holds him back from exploring these fascinating ideas in a real and lingering way.  There is no technical conceit here to distract him – first person pov, fascination with fish eye lens, reliance on intercepted audio – so his crew is able to really flex in their respective departments; Soderbergh here acts as his own cinematographer as Peter Andrews and editor as Mary Ann Bernard.  Production designer Philip Messina helps curate some incredible out of office interiors, while also managing the almost impossible task of making the high tech office not feel totally alien even with its ultra modern design.  Though the indoor cinematography can be a little on the darker side, the exteriors are great, recalling a peaty sip of scotch, overlooking a landscape whose colors are ever so slightly faded through the spiced cloud of cigar smoke, wrapping us in the weight of an overcoat and the warmth of a turtleneck sweater which was expertly pulled from the racks by costumer Ellen Mirojnick.  Black Bag is an absolute treat to watch in the moment, and in that way the fact that the script is so sparse with details plays in its favor, but there is the unfortunate side effect that it has very little staying power in the same was that some of Soderbergh’s earlier works do.