Drama/Romance/Thriller
2 hours and 3 minutes
Rated: R
Written by: Tom Stoppard
Directed by: Fred Schepisi
Produced by: Paul Maslansky & Fred Schepisi
Cast:
Sean Connery
Michelle Pfeiffer
Roy Scheider
James Fox
John Mahoney
Klaus Maria Brandauer
A Spy Story ... A Love Story ... A Story to Cross all Boundaries.
If the above tagline for Fred Schepisi's 1990 adaptation of novelist John le Carré's bestseller The Russia House were to serve as any indication regarding the quality of the film, it would mainly be suggesting that it is a jumbled and confused mess. Formulaically speaking, The Russia House has everything working in its favor. A bestselling novel as its source, a dynamite cast including a then-recent Academy Award winner in its leading male role, a more than capable filmmaker helming the director's chair not to mention its incredible talent filling out the rest of the crew (which I'll get to in a moment), and of course the entire resources of the USSR at its disposal - something that previously was completely unheard of in western cinema. So why didn't The Russia House live up to these promises?
For starters, there's le Carré's novel. While a bestseller and a completely engaging novel full of thrilling espionage dialogue, le Carré's material is problematic when it comes to the medium of cinema. Not all great novels are destined to make great movies. This is only natural since one is an artistic medium of words and another a medium of images. And le Carré's novel is exactly that: wordy. This wordiness is translated over to the film, and while sometimes dialogue driven films can and do work, The Russia House is not a film that succeeds in this capacity. A complicated, dialogue driven, espionage novel is thrilling to say the least. A complex, dialogue-driven, spy film is about as dull as a winter in Moscow.
These problems extend much further when considering the film's screenplay, adapted by playwright Tom Stoppard. Stoppard seemed to be adapting le Carré's novel for that medium he knew so well, the stage, rather than for the screen. The film moves from stuffy apartment interiors, to stuffy office interiors, to stuffy car interiors, to stuffy business interiors, etc. etc. to the point that the only breath of fresh air comes from the external shots meant to fully exploit the film's utilization of Russian locations. And even these exterior moments feel stuffy and cramped too. Why is that? It's largely due to the endless barrage of dull, bureaucratically driven, espionage dialogue that ceaselessly perpetuates from one scene to the next. These dialogue sequences dominate the film so much that it's nearly impossible to find moments of humanity within, and even the sequences where human emotions are expressed by its characters - mainly at the end of the film between Connery's and Pfeiffer's characters - one is already so bored with what they have seen it's hard to care.
Director Schepisi does the best he can with what he has, and granted, he did manage to pull some great performances out of his leads - although, even these are forgettable in the vast canon of their respective filmographies - the film still feels as if he over romanticized the whole thing from the start. Perhaps he had fallen so in love with le Carré's novel that he was blinded by it and had told himself over and over again that it would work on film despite the technical knowledge as a competent filmmaker that it couldn't. Cinematographer Ian Baker managed to capture some gorgeous shots of the Russian exteriors, but after a while, the overall gray and dull qualities of the interiors bleed into the overcast exteriors and do nothing to help liven up the film in any sort of sense. Similarly, editors Beth Jochem Besterveld and Peter Honess are completely guilty of allowing lengthy sequences of monuments and buildings to linger throughout the film for far too long. As an audience, we can see the splendor of the USSR in sequences with the characters in them. These included "filler" shots are unnecessary and unwarranted, and make this already too long motion-picture feel longer than it is. The one shining star of its technical qualities is its score. Legendary composer Jerry Goldsmith is responsible for orchestrating the music behind The Russia House and despite the unique Russian locations and the inclusion of Miss Pfeiffer, the music proves to be the most beautiful thing to take away from this movie.
The film's leads are fantastic as to be expected, and even Pfeiffer donning a Russian accent is completely convincing. But they can only do so much to drive this dull and uninteresting "thriller" forward, and unfortunately the resources for them to make this a majorly redeemable motion-picture aren't present within its script, nor are they given to them by its director. The supporting cast is virtually wasted, including Roy Scheider who was such an underrated talent. His talents here mount to nothing more than shuffling papers in stuffy offices and swearing enough so that the film can earn its R rating. Legendary British filmmaker Ken Russell has an interesting cameo, but one can see why Russell earned the bulk of his money by staying behind the camera.
If there is one thing to say in defense of The Russia House it is perhaps this: it was a motion-picture that dared to do something bold and different. The late-1980s became another dull era of Hollywood, with studios churning out John Hughes films and their various imitations at a rapid rate. The Russia House tried to stop that. It tried to engage its audience on a much more intellectual level, by turning the motion-picture into an artistic medium that could resemble the novel as best and as closely as it could. It wove its story in various circles, taking us backward several times before moving us forward again. It counted on us as viewers to pay close and careful attention to every piece of dialogue uttered by its characters in order to understand the mechanics of its complex story. And it promised something that maybe would not fill our hearts by its story's conclusion, but instead our heads. It was bold in that one regard.
Unfortunately, that boldness did not pay off. Films are not novels. Audiences don't want all plot points delivered through stuffy dialogue, especially if the plots are as complex as the plot of The Russia House. And a story about a then-already dead arms race proved to be as intellectually stimulating as ... well, the already-dead real life arms race it was set against. Despite all its boldness and qualities it should have had working in its favor, including a terrific cast and crew, unique locations, and a beautiful score, The Russia House manages to be what is probably the most insipid espionage film ever made.
4.5/10
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