The Russia House
Smart, gorgeous movie about trust, deception, and love, with one element missing.
The Russia House (1990). Grade: B
First off, we’re going to talk about how streaming services often screw up the way movies are shown. They sometimes show them with the top/bottom or the sides lopped off.
Yawn!
Yes, I can see you yawning. I have access to your computer/phone, and can see everything; don’t worry, I’ll only use this immense power for good!
Also, while you might say “I don’t care about the photography in movies, I like the story,” that’s not true. You DO care about the photography; you just might not know it. I’ll give you an example.
Here’s a nice 2023 story about baseball in Bhutan. It’s a good story, pretty short, friendly stuff. And here’s this very cool picture provided for the story by the Bhutan Baseball & Softball Association:
That picture’s terrific! I’d be proud if I took it. Now, here’s one from the story’s better-paid photographer, Matthew DeSantis:
Yeah, that picture’s friggin’ COOLER. And don’t tell me you can’t notice such things, because you CAN. We can all notice when something looks better. Otherwise every painting in the Louvre would be dogs playing poker and such.
So, when a movie’s very well-shot — and The Russia House is — you’re cheating yourself if you watch it on a streaming service that mucks up the picture. Which is how the free (with ads) ones are currently showing it.
OK, with that out of the way, how’s the movie?
I enjoy it a lot, it’s one I’ve seen several times. There’s just one element that falls flat. Which is a major one! But the rest of it’s so good, that doesn’t hurt the thing too much.
I can’t — quite — believe in the love story. But we’ll come back to that later.
First off (OK, second off), what’s the movie about?
A 60-year-old Scottish fellow (Sean Connery) owns a minor UK book-publishing company — which he inherited, and doesn’t seem to have much interest in actually running. He’s more into the expense account it gives him; he lives in Portugal (presumably for the weather), and frequently travels to the Soviet Union (presumably not for the weather). He loves the Russian people he meets; they’re open-hearted, frequently hungover, and generally resigned to life being a series of disappointments made worthwhile by smart, friendly company — in other words, they’re a lot like him.
On one visit, at a Russian writers’ colony, Connery’s speeches about how ideals matter more than national loyalty impress a brooding Klaus Maria Brandauer (a very good actor — those familiar with his roles will know that “brooding Klaus Maria Brandauer” has a redundant adjective). On Connery’s next visit to Moscow, Brandauer sends him a manuscript full of Soviet nuclear weapons secrets; it turns out he’s a literal rocket scientist. He has an ex-girlfriend, Michelle Pfeiffer, deliver the secret manuscript. Brandauer wants Connery to publish it, and hasten the end of the Cold War.
Only problem (besides this all being hugely dangerous); Connery isn’t in Moscow. He missed the trip. So Pfeiffer gives the manuscript to a British bookseller who knows Connery. The bookseller, curious, reads the manuscript, realizes this is WAY out of his league, and gives it to British authorities. They are REALLY confused. Who’s this mysterious woman? Why does she have access to Soviet military secrets? Why, on Earth, is she giving them to “boozy Barley Blair”? (That’s Connery’s character’s nickname.)
And Connery’s confused, too. He didn’t know Brandauer was a rocket scientist; he’d never met Pfeiffer. Although, once he sees her picture, he’s intrigued. And he’s willing to go along with British authorities and talk to Brandauer again; the guy’s risking his life, and Connery wants to help save him, get him out of the country.
I’m explaining the plot in detail even though it’s established in the first 20-30 minutes or so. Because most people I’ve watched this movie with find it confusing, at first. It’s from a John le Carré novel, and adapted by playwright/screenwriter Tom Stoppard (Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead). Stoppard loves complex wordplay and shifting perspectives; sometimes we’re seeing things from Connery’s point of view, sometimes from the British who’re watching him. It helps to know this going in, since the film’s more fun if you can appreciate how the opening’s laid out, rather than being frustrated about why it seems confusing.
I haven’t read the le Carré novel, but most of his books are inspired by something real, and in this case I think it’s “Team B.” In the mid-1970s, several hard-liners in the Ford administration were arguing that the CIA was grossly underestimating Soviet military strength and intentions. That the Soviets were ALWAYS building their nuclear arsenal, to the point where if America didn’t build ours bigger, they’d be able to take us out with a first strike. (Of course such a first strike would poison the atmosphere and kill almost everyone on Earth, but that’s not something Cold War planners tended to consider.)
Team B was heavily pushed by Donald Rumsfeld and Paul Wolfowitz, and most experts now think their findings were utter bunk. Bunk meant to bolster the American defense industry, not to protect American lives. If you remember, Rumsfeld and Wolfowitz would do the same thing pushing stories about Saddam Hussein’s “weapons of mass destruction” in 2002.
This book came out in 1989, so le Carré wasn’t predicting Gulf War II, but he was always writing about how intelligence agencies are motivated by other things besides simply “finding secrets.” In The Russia House, the British hope that the manuscript sent to Connery IS true; that would mean they scooped the CIA. While the CIA are largely hoping the manuscript’s false! Because, if it’s true, that would mean a lot of contracts for defense contractors wouldn’t be needed anymore.
The movie’s excellent at laying out the spy stuff. At showing us what the Brits are thinking, what the CIA is thinking, how they work together and distrust each other at the same time. How they use “agents”; how they manipulate people into serving their purposes. At one point, Connery’s being given a lie-detector test, and when he’s asked “are you being coerced,” he says “yes!” The questioner has to reframe it as “are you being coerced by the Russians.” To which he truthfully answers “no.” Yet when asked “are you motivated by your love” for Pfeiffer, he says “no”… and the needles begin to wobble.
But the love story doesn’t quite work. For one thing, it’s too fast. Connery’s smitten with her after a few meetings and some phone calls. You can buy that well enough; who wouldn’t be smitten by Michelle Pfeiffer? But why would she fall for him? She’s had a stressful life, wouldn’t she want stability? This guy’s got some charm, but stability isn’t his strong suit. Again, I haven’t read the book — so I don’t know if the love story is more developed there.
Then there’s the age gap. Connery was 60 when this came out; Pfeiffer 32 — although she’s meant to be a little older, and made up to seem so. Connery is playing, very well, a guy who’s feeling every bit of his 60 years. Pfeiffer looks like if you got her out of Russia, she’d be ready to slink all over a piano again, like in Fabulous Baker Boys (or slink all over Michael Keaton, like she would in Batman Returns). It’s just a little wrong to put these two together romantically. Not felony wrong, just a casting misdeameanor.
It’s not a major flaw. You absolutely CAN believe in the second chance that saving Pfeiffer represents to Connery; you can believe it’s his way of proving he’s not just a moderately happy failure. And you can believe how she trusts him; he comes across as a man with a lot of decency at heart. So the characters work, despite the lack of obvious chemistry.
There also might be a flaw in that gorgeous photography I mentioned above. And it’s spectactular, by Ian Baker, who shot all of director Fred Schepisi’s films. He’d made Big Bend National Park look amazing in Barbarosa; he’d do the same with New York in Six Degrees of Separation and Japan in Mr. Baseball. (Granted, these places ARE amazing, yet Baker gives them a special glimmer.) It might be a little overwhelming to the love story, here. This was the first US movie to have this much access to shooting in the Soviet Union, and Baker/Schepisi are in love with the architecture, the landscape — it looks terrific, and it’s wonderful to see. Those grand vistas overpower the fragile love story a bit. But I do think it's mostly the age/personality difference between the two leads.
All the individual performances are terrific. James Fox is the British intelligence expert overseeing Connery’s case; the two of them fit very well together. Roy Scheider is his usual energetic, amusing self as the good CIA guy; J.T. Walsh his usual stern, humorless self as the bad one. (Per Wiki, Walsh had been a traveling salesman and a bartender before he started acting, so I’ll bet he DID have a sense of humor… he was sure convincing in these Nasty Jerk parts, though.) David Threlfall is the British agent pretending to be Connery’s business assistant, and one who’s better at the business than Connery is. And Brandauer is suitably wearly-souled. He always is! Per the production notes, John Mahoney was pissed that most of his lines got cut; I don’t blame him, I wanted more of the role, too.
Crazed filmmaker Ken Russell has a fun impish part as a sarcastic Brit: at one point, he responds to Connery’s asking “aren't we all friends now” with “Because this year it suits them to roll over on their backs and play nice doggie? Because this year they're on the floor anyway? You ninny! All the more reason to spy the living daylights out of them. Kick them in the balls every time they get to their knees.”
The West DID kick ‘em in the balls, especially by pushing the idea that Russia should sell/give away every state-owned asset to the highest (or most corrupt/connected) bidder. That was disastrous for Russia, and led to Putin taking power. Which hasn't worked out very well for anybody. Not anybody nice, at any rate.
The score, by Jerry Goldsmith, is one of his best, and that’s saying something — he was one of the greats. It soars, it sizzles rhythmically. Branford Marsalis is given opening-credit billing for his soprano sax work, and deserves it.
What you’ve got here is a great-looking, terrifically-acted, highly intelligent movie that assumes you have enough brains to follow what’s going on. The love story is eh, and that’s OK. What le Carré always means to show is how ordinary people are often misused by intelligence agencies; in this one, the ordinary people have an agenda of their own. It’s very rewarding to see how it works out. The last shot’s a blunder, but the ending overall isn’t, and has a nice little twist-around of the opening scenes. It’s a movie I come back to every five or ten years, and I haven’t been disappointed yet.