Black Bag Review: An Exquisite Spy Thriller From The Prolific Soderbergh

It has been less than a decade since filmmaker Steven Soderbergh returned from his brief flirtation with retirement, and in that span he has become more prolific than ever. His latest, the slick and efficient spy thriller "Black Bag," is his 10th feature since 2017's "Logan Lucky." Hell, it's his second this year, after his lo-fi ghost drama "Presence" was released in January (which Looper also reviewed).

While none of his post-hiatus fare has achieved the mainstream relevance and cultural cachet of the "Ocean's" films, the pictures themselves are no less memorable and at times, feel even more impressive than his former heights. There is just something nourishing about watching a master at work, nimbly switching genres, tones, and styles like a racer speeding between lanes. Seeing a gifted storyteller experiment can be a spectacle all its own, regardless of if he fails.

But "Black Bag" is definitely closer to the unmitigated success side of the Soderbergh-Overton window. Re-teaming with legendary screenwriter David Koepp after their prior collaborations, the straight-to-Max paranoia thriller "Kimi" and the aforementioned "Presence," Soderbergh sinks his teeth into a well-worn genre. The result is considerably more grounded than the James Bond franchise, but not so gritty and realistic as to be mistaken for the "Bourne" series.

It's a sharp, sexy, and intoxicating drama that has more in common with Patrick Marber's play "Closer" than with most spook stories. And did we mention it's only 93 minutes?

The last time Steven Soderbergh made a spy thriller, it was the criminally underrated "Haywire," an action-first affair that saw star Gina Carano fight her way out of an international frame job. Visually, the color palette, compositions, and pace hew closely to that prior outing, with similar lighting schemes and attention to detail — only the hand-to-hand combat is replaced by the sort of witty repartee and dry back-and-forths one might expect from a British whodunit.

This makes sense given David Koepp's killer premise. George Woodhouse (Michael Fassbender), a highly respected member of an unnamed British intelligence agency, receives word from a colleague that there is a mole in their ranks. On that list of suspects, he finds Dr. Zoe Vaughn (Naomie Harris), the bureau's therapist; Col. James Stokes (Regé-Jean Page), a protege he recently promoted; Freddie Smalls (Tom Burke), an agent passed over for Stokes' position; Clarissa DuBose (Marisa Abela), a rookie; and Kathryn St. Jean (Cate Blanchett), George's wife. Lest the viewer wonder long how difficult it will be for George to investigate the love of his life, we're told he was once responsible for ending his own father's career in their line of work for infidelity and impropriety. His reason? He doesn't like liars.

What unfolds is a rather complex game of cat and several mice as George uses an innocuous dinner party to stoke enough conflict between all suspects to then expand into a larger investigation. But as it becomes more and more likely Kathryn could be the mole, it's clear George will stop at nothing to extricate her from danger, regardless of guilt or duplicity. Why? Because he loves his wife. 

Koepp's script is tight and ruthless, weaving a tangled web of deceit and subterfuge, but never making it difficult for the audience to keep up with their shadow games. On the genre side of things, the film's trailers may have exaggerated the true amount of honest to goodness action to be found in the proceedings, but the banter and the careful dissemination of information is more than enough for the drama to keep bodies poised on the edge of their seats.

As engaging as the hunt for the mole and the implications of its stolen MacGuffin may be, there's still a rich and believable series of romantic entanglements among its excellent cast to feed the modern soap opera urges of moviegoers. You'll seldom find a more game cast of performers to dress up and play secret agent. And it's Soderbergh's unique perspective as a filmmaker keeping those two dueling sides of the narrative effectively tethered.

Although he more salaciously referenced a startling lack of sex as his sticking point for not wanting to make superhero movies, Steven Soderbergh had another reason the popular sub-genre wasn't for him. In an interview with The Daily Beast, he asked of these caped crusaders, "Who's paying these people? Who do they work for? How does this job come to be?" When it comes to understanding the characters within the fictional worlds he must bring to life, Soderbergh needs to understand how his protagonists pay the rent. 

Even here, within the spy genre, a significant reason for George to suspect Kathryn is the large sum of money the mole has absconded with. She and George live what appears to be an upper crust lifestyle, but Kathryn's own background won't allow her to not worry about money. It's one of the key elements that always grounds Soderbergh's work. He is, above all else, principally concerned with the intersection between capitalism and everyday morality; the ways in which our need to financially sustain ourselves can trap us into less than ideal predicaments; and the meaning gleamed from watching people wriggle out of those conflicts. 

Coupled with being, alongside David Fincher and Park Chan-Wook, one of the few filmmakers unafraid to allow smartphones prominent space in his frames, Soderbergh doesn't always need to use period pieces and traveling to the past to elucidate how he sees the human condition. "Black Bag" doesn't rely on science fiction-level spy tech when it can highlight the vast extent of the modern surveillance state, bringing us closer to the characters who watch us from afar, while themselves being constantly watched. 

No matter what genre he chooses to tackle next, we can always count on Soderbergh to aim for a reality that doesn't have to be banal or vérité to ring true for the viewer. Even his popcorn flicks peer into the human condition.

"Black Bag" hits theaters on March 14.