Stylish spy flick lacks substance
Print Edition
IT’S not until the climax of “The Man From U.N.C.L.E.,” a colorful, Cold War-era spy thriller, that its main failing becomes clear: the plot doesn’t matter.
The characters don’t care. The script doesn’t care. And, the audience shouldn’t care either.
That doesn’t make this odd adaptation of the 1960s NBC series bad. But it is a false promise that distracts from some of the other pleasures of the spectacle.
“The Man From U.N.C.L.E.” mercifully does not require any knowledge of its television origin. In fact, the forgettable acronym is uttered once and explained only in text in the closing credits.
This ode to handsome men, women, clothes and cars is less about a Russian (Armie Hammer) and an American (Henry Cavill) teaming up to infiltrate a shadowy organization with nuclear ambitions, than a sort of pastiche of the 1960s spy genre derived from Vogue magazine spreads.
Director Guy Ritchie offers an intriguing and captivating introduction, though, weaving together humor, action, and stylish, angular shots in a disarmingly simple, but effective opening sequence.
American agent Napoleon Solo (Cavill) needs to get a girl, Gaby (Alicia Vikander), daughter of “Hitler’s favorite rocket scientist,” out of East Berlin, while Russian agent Illya Kuryakin (Hammer) tries to stop that from happening.
The scene builds tension expertly and works with the constraints of the 1960s cars to make the chase exciting. The suave Solo is unfazed by setbacks, and yet he’s still in awe of Illya’s brute power.
It’s the type of film that’s more interested in having side characters say pretty things like “I’m on a strict diet of champagne and caviar,” and making sure model-like hotel clerks submit within minutes of casual propositions, than it is in its main story.
What pleasure does exist is in the carefully crafted aesthetics and the exaggerated acting, especially Cavill’s devilish charm.
Vikander and Elizabeth Debicki (as the glamorous big bad) are deliciously cool.
Ritchie, meanwhile, experiments with in-depth tangents and bold, suggestive subtitles, as though he’s attempting something approximating Tarantino-lite.
“The Man From U.N.C.L.E.” could be smarter. It could be faster. It could have given Hugh Grant more to do.
But, in this case, beautiful, adequate and escapist is almost enough.
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