Khufiya aka Secret [dir. Vishal Bhardwaj]

The Khufiya (Secret) in the title of Vishal Bhardwaj's new film (produced with Netflix) covers both the professional and personal life of its protagonist. Krishna Mehra aka KM (Tabu) works in covert intelligence, a spy 'handler' executing missions for the country that will never be highlighted in newspapers nor discussed at dinner parties. Krishna regards herself a professional and personal failure. We first see her reacting to a major workplace disaster. On the domestic front she lives apart from her ex-husband and son, and is almost always absent from the latter's big moments: Early in the film she turns up late for his performance as Brutus in a Hindi stage production of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar (which in itself appears a nod to VB's penchant for adapting the bard). Even this teen knows that her job at the "Central Secretariat" is a front for something else, and resents her constant bluffs. Krishna has another secret. She is separated from her husband (Atul Kulkarni) because she is a closet lesbian.

This detail is not doled out in linear fashion. Khufiya begins with a birthday soiree in Bangladesh, where an attractive woman brings a gift for Brigadier Saqlain Mirza (Shataf Figar) of the Bangladesh military, believed to be in cahoots with Pakistani intelligence. The gift is actually a lethal weapon, but the woman has been betrayed, and she is the one killed (with a fork stabbed into her jugular, perhaps a nod to Julius Caesar's murder?). The woman is Heena Rahman aka Octopus, a protege of Krishna. We soon enter a flashback in which Rahman proactively approaches Krishna with an offer to spy for her. Rahman is played by sensational Bangladeshi actress Azmeri Haque Badhon, whose innate magnetism makes it easy to digest the chemistry she develops with Tabu's character and the emotional turmoil caused by her assassination. Long after her character is off the screen, you feel her impact.

Bound by orders from her superior (Ashish Vidyarthi, in a rare non-mugging part) and driven by personal angst, Krishna sets out to catch the mole responsible for Heena's death. The obvious suspect is staffer Ravi Mohan (Ali Fazal) who seems to enjoy a lifestyle exceeding his official income. Ravi is rather easily recorded copying office secrets (literally, on a photocopy machine. It seems a little too quaint, but the narrative is set in the pre-millennium years, when USB drives and even CD burners were not mainstream technology). To figure out who is pulling his strings and how the information is transmitted, they set up an elaborate surveillance network covering Ravi's home as well. Thus we are introduced to his wife Charu (Wamiqa Gabbi, of Godha and Jubilee fame) and mother Lalita (Navnindra Behl). Charu is a doting spouse and mother...who, when alone, rolls her own joints and shakes a sexy hip to hippie-era Bollywood ditties. Lalita spends time with an Osho-inspired spiritual guru Yaara-ji (Indian Ocean / Aisi Taisi Democracy's Rahul Ram). When KM's team sets out to apprehend Ravi, things go very wrong; she has to start all over to catch a traitor and avenge the death of her lover.

From a bare outline this must sound all bog standard for the spy genre. But, at least when it's not wavering, there is an emotional core that's more John le Carré than Robert Ludlum. From what I hear, the script (by VB and Rohan Narula) changed the lead of Amar Bhushan's source novel to a woman and a queer. It takes the narrative to a more interesting personal, even romantic space. KM's equation with Heena has her deeply hurting by the latter's death, more so since she cannot discuss it with anyone (the ex-husband seems quite understanding, but I guess there are some things hard to share with a spouse). When Ravi's wife, after having been abandoned by him in escape, reaches out to Krishna to track him and reunite with her son, Krishna understands the perspective of a mother deprived of her child's love (Of course, it helps that this ties in with her own agenda). Even Ali Fazal's traitor is given some dimension - Ravi is a loving family man, but when Charu catches up with him again, he has to worry about her true motives and the risk to his own survival.

So far so good, but Khufiya's script fumbles badly in the consistency department. Almost as if Bhardwaj is afraid of audiences not being gripped by a serious drama, he bungs in jokes and farcical elements that break the immersion. The aforementioned fork stabbing is more Grand Guignol than anything else. When Charu tracks down Ravi in hiding, it would have been interesting to see how her mission tangled with her emotional involvement with the family, but this is jettisoned in favor of cheap jokes like when her mother in law pooh-poohs Ravi's security concerns describing her as a godsend "free maid". A later scene where a target is lured in with the idea of giving him a doped mutton dish and the other members at the table keep giving excuses about why they are not consuming it views like a particularly bad scene from a Jeffrey Archer novel.

Still, I was carried enough by the good stuff (Farhad Ahmed Dehlvi's cinematography is classy cool) to sit through the not-inconsiderable 157 min runtime in one go without feeling too distressed, which is more than I could say about some of VB's other films in the past few years, or the ridiculously overrated Raazi from Meghana Gulzar. Your mileage may greatly vary.

Visa to Canton [dir. Michael Carreras]

"The name's Benton...Don Benton." That doesn't really have the same ring, does it? 

I was regarding Visa to Canton (US title Passport to China) as a charming low-rent James Bond knockoff from from Britain's Hammer Studios till I realized it was actually made two years before the first Bond film, Dr. No. Of course, Ian Fleming's famous superspy was already 8 books old in print, after his literary birth in 1953's Casino Royale. The debut novel in turn had an Americanized TV adaptation a year later, featuring a thuggish "Jimmy Bond" (Barry Nelson); incidentally, the suave hero of Visa to Canton (VtC) is an American. 

Our hero Benton (Richard Baseheart, prefiguring Roger Moore's portrayal of 007) is a WW2 flying hero turned travel agency hotshot based in Hong Kong. Of course this being a Hammer production, all principal photography was done at their Bray Studios in Berkshire, and the few glimpses of actual Hong Kong in the film are either second unit work or stock photography. Benton is the "can do" man whose assured manner and silver tongue smooth over all obstacles. Apparently, his PR skills are so good the CIA wants to recruit him for a secret mission involving a downed aircraft on the Chinese mainland. Benton turns them down, but changes his mind once he realizes that the mission involves the rescue of a relative, in fact the pilot grandson of his adopted Chinese family (yep, you read that).

In a Bond film, this infiltration would have been a significant early action set-piece. But Michael Carreras' talent for spectacle and Hammer's budget are modest. There are no difficulties for Benton's crew in the search, and the Chinese soldiers they encounter are so inept and lackadaisical, even in a slow-moving motorized canoe, they easily escape their pursuers.

But there's more in store. The rescued pilot (Burt Kwouk) stands accused of having helped in the capture of a CIA informant who was a passenger on the downed flight. Benton decides to go into China again and find the truth to save the honor of his Chinese family. In this adventure, he comes up against lovely Lola (Lisa Gastoni), the informant who carries in her head vital information about a super-weapon, and the Russian origin smiling viper Ivano Kang (Eric Pohlmann, channeling Sydney Greenstreet from The Maltese Falcon).

These elements generate the most potent Bond-like atmosphere. Lola's sultry posing in Benton's hotel bedroom is an almost archetype Bond girl appearance. Kang's oily menace is echoed in many of Bond's supervillains and he has a notable Henchman in India-born Milton Reid (who later memorably tangled with Bond himself in The Spy Who Loved Me). Composer Edwin Astley's brassy score is a precursor to Monty Norman and John Barry's work on the Bond movies. This is not to say those films aped VtC; Fleming's novels already dictated their style. But Hammer's film did set a precedent for that spy adventure template on the screen. It even ends with a "possible next mission" coda (but not with a kiss). 

There are some now-cringy bits, like Caucasian actors done up as Chinese speaking pidgin English, but VtC is still more egalitarian than other "exotic East" movies (including Hammer's Terror of the Tongs, which had been constructed around the same time and using the same production material to share costs). At least the film does not uniformly paint Asians as slit-eyed evildoers. Benton is a grateful part of the Chinese family that sheltered him in difficult times and sees them on equal terms. The thrills are modest but the film has a likable smoothness. If VtC had more spectacle, more vim, more chutzpah, it could have made a bigger impact on audiences, perhaps even offset the dominance of Bond as cinema's premier globe trotting spy.

The Spy Who Came In from the Cold [dir. Martin Ritt]

My first exposure to  John Le Carré's The Spy Who Came In from the Cold was in a BBC audio drama adaptation of the book that runs approximately an hour longer than the film. I have to say, with that additional hour, the drama packed in a greater element of credibility and depth than this nonetheless admirable film.

Le Carré's story deals with Alex Leamas (Richard Burton), an apparently down on his luck former secret service operative, discharged after a disastrous operation in which one of his agents in enemy territory (East Germany) was killed when defecting to the west. While Leamas is reduced to working a barely-paying library job (and accepting the friendly advances of his fellow employee Nancy - Claire Bloom - an ardent believer in communism), he is picked up by a shadowy agency looking to persuade him to part with important covert information for a fee. This is in fact a ruse: Working on the advice of his superiors Control and George Smiley, Leamas is a 'mole' leaking out false information devised to topple Hans-Dieter Mundt (Peter van Eyck), a dangerous agent from the enemy side. It is imperative for the success of the plan that the enemy must believe they are extracting this information from an embittered defector, and so Leamas must live the part of a hard-drinking self-loathing reluctant traitor.

As I recall, in the audio drama, the reveal of Leamas being a 'double agent' comes out gradually in the form of repeated flashbacks to when Smiley is advising him on the strategy to be followed. The film puts it up quite early, and there is no ambiguity about Leamas' position. But till he is actually contacted by the enemy, he must for all intents and purposes be nothing other than a perpetually intoxicated bitter failure. Into this sad lonely existence, the affections of his library colleague come as a warm breeze to the man perpetually "out in the cold" and even as he otherwise faithfully plays his part, he cannot resist getting into a relationship. And it is then that the enemy gets in touch.

The next phase of the drama is when Leamas is passed on from one handler to another, each probing him for information and stringing him along with a bottle, and promises of payment and asylum. He is eventually met by Fiedler (Oskar Werner), a top party member of Jewish origin with a grudge against the former Nazi Mundt. In a careful series of revelations, bolstered by frequent temper tantrums and demands for his payment, Leamas plays Fiedler, always making it look like he is parting with the information against his conscience. In a conventional spy thriller, this deception would have a triumphant climax with Leamas redeemed as a hero. But both Le Carré in his book and director Martin Ritt in his film adaptation looked to present a more murky reality of espionage and without being explicit, one can say that Leamas in turn finds that he may himself be a pawn in a larger game. The ending is a poignant tragedy that makes the story far more memorable.

Although Richard Burton's theatricality still occasionally surfaces in the lead role (apparently he and director Martin Ritt clashed bitterly over the latter's continuous instruction to "keep it down, Rich"), his real life struggles with tax exile and alcohol (and stormy marriage to Elizabeth Taylor) play into his identification with the part. Plus, he is able to convey a certain charisma even in a disheveled state, making Nancy's attraction to a drunk loser more plausible. Martin Ritt helms with knowing understatement - the settings are dreary and the speeches are in low, measured tones (Cyril Cusack's interpretation of Control tutoring Leamas is a masterclass). The most showy scene is a visit to a nightclub with a cabaret performance, and even that is executed with admirable subtlety. Tambi Larsen's evocative set design and Oswald Morris' gritty B&W cinematography effectively capture the murky proceedings. Also worth mentioning is the moody Sol Kaplan score.

Even if it suffers a bit in terms of condensing its source, this film of is by itself an excellent noir-inflected bleak spy drama.

Raazi [dir. Meghna Gulzar]

If such a thing were possible, I would like to place a bucket in front of every Indian director set to make a movie on sports / espionage / war and say, "Here, throw up every bit of patriotic fervor you have inside of you into this bucket and THEN go make your movie."

Meghna 'Talvar' Gulzar's film about a young girl from Kashmir (Alia Bhatt) arranged to be married into a Pakistani military family with the agenda of functioning as a spy for her home nation in the period leading up to the 1971 war is not as jingoistic as some of the worst offenders in the genre (there is no hyper-macho posturing and I don't recall any scene where either of the national flags are flying), but that's about the only good thing I can say about it. The idea had potential but it needed to be done well. Look at the level of tension a Quentin Tarantino can raise through simple dialog scenes in Inglourious Basterds purely by suggesting or implying possibilities. A wartime spy drama unable to generate any real sense of urgency is a tragedy.

In a time where all kinds of movies ill-advisedly attempt non-linear narratives with timeline jumps, Raazi is one film that could have actually benefited by such a treatment. They could have started the film with the marriage, and the girl going alone into foreign territory, vulnerable and beset by fears. Then as she gradually starts her mission they could have given brief glimpses of the training she received and is now putting into practice in the face of real danger. But no, after an eye-rolling "your daughter will do your patriotism proud, daddy" speech (to a Rajit Kapur bandying Rahim Chacha level stuffed shirt nobility, and that old Bollywood standby, CANCER) Alia gets an entire Rocky-style training montage with rah-rah song backdrop. At the end of the montage she asks her hardass trainer (Jaideep Ahlawat, an actor that deserves better) if he thinks she can do the mission, and he replies that he is confident in her. That moment pretty much deflates any possible tension for the massive chunk of movie-time that is yet to come.

The other aspect is the emotional conflict of the girl "betraying" her new relations. To the script's credit they are always shown as a progressive loving family, whose only difference of interest is in the nation they owe allegiance to. However, there is never a true sense of bond-building. These are the people Alia's character must come to rely on as emotional anchor in a strange place. It is the sense of familial belonging with these Pakistanis that must generate the turbulence in her mind about her actions. But almost always she seems to be playing the spy role, and her actions, even when she wins hearts by training schoolkids to perform a patriotic song, are viewed purely from that perspective. More disastrous is the casting of Vickey Kaushal as her Paki husband. The marital relationship between the nubile girl and a chivalrous military gentleman should have been a lynch-pin of romantic passion and emotional turbulence powering this whole enterprise. Alas Kaushal's military man is a modern day Bharat Bhushan, a pitiable wallflower. The chemistry between them is colder than an ice-lolly in an Antarctic winter. When the moment of open conflict comes, you feel little empathy for either one.

Alia Bhatt's performance falls victim to bad writing and direction, consisting in large measure of breathing heavily against latched doors. Nonetheless she gets a fine climactic outburst in which the young girl inside of her spy wants desperately to go home. Of course they have to spoil that moment too with a soggy epilogue no one asked for. Give this Raazi a Razzie.

The Ipcress File [dir. Sidney Furie]

Based on a novel by Len Deighton (which I haven't read), The Ipcress File features protagonist Harry Palmer (Michael Caine - young and dashing, a far cry from the desultory valet of the Dark Knight series) is a secret service agent, but grittier and working class compared to James Bond (the comparison is valid since the film was produced by regular Bond series co-producer Harry Saltzman). While Bond's adventures have him traipsing around exotic foreign landscapes, Palmer (at least in this story) is mostly restricted to London and the nearby countryside. Bond can afford to gulp down Beluga caviar and Bollinger champagne without worrying about the expense account, but poor Harry earns only 1300 quid a year and hopes a promised raise will allow him to buy a coveted infra-red grill to satisfy his gourmet-on-a-budget whims.

The script involves the usual convolutions of intrigue, red herrings and double agents any self-respecting Cold War era spy caper would feature and they are done well. I must admit here that I am quite biased towards the old-school Brit "stiff upper lip" tone. Visually the film is quite stylish (DoP Otto Heller of Peeping Tom fame), sometimes to an extreme, with for example shots from the POV of a ceiling lamp or a outdoor fight sequence captured from inside an empty phone both. But director Sidney Furie ensures that it's all good pacy fun and never ceases to be interesting. Caine is in top form here and has strong support from a stellar British cast (including the ultra-manly Nigel Green). The film has more intrigue than action or spectacle so don't expect outrageous stunts but that's intentional - Palmer's world is designed to be an antithesis to the ultra-glamorous Bond-verse, and makes a forceful impact. The success of the film led to stardom and bigger roles for Caine (Italian Job, Get Carter), and though I suspect it will be a case of diminishing returns, I am tempted to try out the further installments of the franchise, including Guy Hamilton's Funeral in Berlin and Ken (seriously?) Russell's Billion Dollar Brain.

Recommended for gritty spy thriller fans.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy was a pretty good film once it got underway. Oh yes, it takes its own sweet while to get there; the leisurely non-dramatic build-up may put some off and I won't blame them. There are several unannounced timeline shifts that require you to keep attentive track of what's going on. Also the film is, at least from my theatrical experience, shot in low contrast extremely dim lighting, possibly as a visual analogy to the murky goings-on of the plot. Gary Oldman heads the cast, which is mainly other Old Men (hur-hur); oh and there's Sherlock too, Benedict Cumberbatch, this time with blond hair. Most of them give fine performances (and Gary has a cracker scene mid-way where he talks about an encounter with the film's main nemesis), but John Hurt once again phones in - it's almost hard to believe now that he once brilliantly essayed The Elephant Man and Winston in the Michael Radford adaptation of 1984. The whodunit revelation at the end isn't particularly dramatic or meaningful, but this was a good diversion from the normal sort of film that shows up on screens here. The question now is, should I actually read any of that John Le Carre stuff?

Update: So I did see the 1979 TV mini-series with Alec Guiness playing George Smiley. There are definitely a great many of the usual advantages offered by the longer running time (Seven 45-min episodes). The story feels more coherent in its fleshed out avatar (no need for clumsy visual devices, like chess pieces with pictures of the suspects pasted over them), and many of the characters like Peter Guillam, Ricki Tarr and Jim Prideaux have some dimension here, unlike the cardboard dogsbodies of the film. Alexander Knox's solid performance as Control further exposes John Hurt's turn for the disgrace it is. There are more visual cues for each location shift (Tarr's stint in Lisbon comes off immensely better in terms of generating a different atmosphere) and it also helps that that there are none of the unannounced timeline jumps that made the 2011 feature a little hard to keep up with. But, blame my attention span, I still can't say I have the answers to all the stuff that happens in the plot. I won't discuss them here for fear of spoiling it for other unfamiliar with this watchable series - and very watchable it is, I'd intended to do one episode a day but ended up watching the last 3 without a break.

Which is not to say that everything in the series is better than in the film. For a crucial scene where Smiley encounters his Russian nemesis Karla, the film had Smiley simply recounting the incident to Guillam while the TV series gives us a flashback of the event....and it is the former approach that works better for me. It is one of those iconic moments which loses a little in actual presentation. As for Smiley, it's a toss-up between Alec Guiness' and Gary Oldman's performances. Both of them do a very fine job, with their personal auras bringing a wee different perspective to how you see the character. Alec is all old-world gentility and order, which makes it easier to accept how he is underestimated by his rivals. On the other hand, Gary brings a greater innate steel to the character that makes it more natural to see why the young hounds under his command would jump to do his bidding. Whatever your preference, each approach is enjoyable on its own merits.