Black Bag

 

Director Steven Soderbergh

Soderbergh behind the camera

Soderbergh on the set with Michael Fassbender

Soderbergh with screenwriter David Koepp

screenwriter David Koepp

musical composer David Holmes

BLACK BAG             B+                                                                                                             USA  (93 mi)  2025  d: Steven Soderbergh

Whatever you may say about the films of Steven Soderbergh, one thing you can count on is that they will be stylishly entertaining, in this case like being immersed in the middle of a John Le Carré spy novel.  The maker of SEX, LIES, AND VIDEOTAPE (1989), one of the most influential catalysts of the 1990’s independent film movement, leading to Out of Sight (1998), The Limey (1999), and Traffic (2000), which remain among Soderbergh’s best films, all made at the height of his creative peak, yet this feels more along the lines of Haywire (2011), moving invisibly through a world of espionage, double agents, government cover ups, and secret identities, where the one certainty is never trusting anyone.  Soderbergh indicated he wanted this film to feel like the espionage version of Mike Nichols’ Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966), but it doesn’t have that kind of verbal pyrotechnics, as it’s much too sublimated for that, avoiding the high-octane action sequences typical of spy thrillers, instead there’s a unique focus on the interior psychology of the characters, where it actually feels more like an Agatha Christie novel, a spy thriller that’s also an interpersonal relationship movie, with a terrific ensemble cast that continuously plays mind games with each other, where Soderbergh’s bag of tricks is in stark contrast to Tomas Alfredson’s much more somber and subdued Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011).  Given the state of the world at the moment, where lying and disinformation have become the new normal, with nations sabotaging and undermining their own people to prevent the truth from ever coming out, we are living by new rules of engagement, where we suddenly find ourselves mired in a labyrinthian sci-fi dystopia, where we may never see the light of day, as the odds are continually stacked against us, with Soderbergh having a little fun at our expense, poking holes in our perceived covers, twisting the knife in what was once conceived as an open democracy.  Nowadays all bets are off, with this film demonstrating just how convoluted and confusing it has become, with the power brokers dangling the strings, making us believe whatever the hell they want us to believe, closing off all avenues of the real truth, while wrapping it all up in a mirage of freedom and democracy.  Having written three of the director’s last four movies, including his minimalist ghost story PRESENCE (2024), released just two months ago, the ridiculously talented and successful screenwriter David Koepp has written more than thirty feature films, including a wide variety of genres, with U.S. box office receipts grossing over $2.6 billion, making him the fourth most successful American screenwriter of all time (Top Grossing Screenwriter at the Domestic Box Office), though evaluating who is “best” is another story (The 100 Best Screenwriters of All Time), consulting with actual spies to write this movie, which is simply immersed in the culture of keeping secrets, which extends into personal relationships, including marriage, where confidential things that are off-limits for discussion are kept in a “black bag.”  That’s the amusing premise for the film, with Soderbergh having fun subverting genre expectations, becoming a puzzle piece that turns into fun and games, where if you can lie about everything, then how do you tell the truth about anything?  Perhaps unintentionally, that’s the real dilemma of living in America at the moment, where it’s like living under the Russian KGB, as everything is filtered through a wall of authoritative threats and manipulated disinformation.  Lies and cover-ups, along with a blatantly racist disregard for even the barest trace of historical diversity, are the cultural cornerstones that have literally replaced truth and honesty in American politics, the exact opposite of the Watergate era of the 1970’s, which opened a new door of ethics reform along with journalistic integrity and transparency.          

Using chapter headings counting down the days, one by one, this moody, atmospheric film is driven by a remarkable soundtrack written by Irish musician David Holmes, who has written the music for dozens of films going back to Soderbergh’s Out of Sight working with the director on and off for decades, Black Bag 2025 Soundtrack | Black Bag - David Holmes ... YouTube (1:09).  The super-modern, stylish look of the film is captured by none other than the director as cinematographer, working under a lifelong pseudonym Peter Andrews, while also editing the film under the pseudonym Mary Ann Bernard, where the sterile rooms and office spaces of Britain’s National Cyber Security Centre (NCSC) are void of color or personality, much of it mimicking the sepia tones of David Fincher’s Se7en (1995), swamped by an uneasiness that persists throughout, like an underlying gloom that permeates through every character.  In a superbly constructed opening sequence filled with suspense, the camera follows British intelligence office George Woodhouse (Michael Fassbender) in a Scorsese-like, single-take opening shot through the underground walkways of an upscale, carefully guarded London nightclub, leading to a private VIP vaping room, with darkness saturating every frame, as his superior, Mr. Meacham (Gustaf Skarsgård), contends “There’s a stranger in our house,” ordering him to investigate a leak in the intelligence service, specifically the theft of a top secret cyberweapon code-named Severus, a biological weapon capable of killing thousands, where one of the five suspects who have access to it is his wife, Kathryn (Cate Blanchett), given one week to find the culprit before it activates.  Adding to the intrigue, Meacham is poisoned and killed by morning, made to look like a heart attack, with a covert murder operation suddenly infiltrating the picture, where clearly there is trouble in the ranks.  Something of a twisty cat and mouse tale, perhaps the oddest juxtaposition is an early scene of the Woodhouse’s hosting a dinner party inviting all the suspects to their swanky townhouse, including a smug intelligence analyst Freddie Smalls (Tom Burke) and his sharp and savvy girlfriend Clarrisa Dubose (Marisa Abela), a junior agent and cyber technology expert, also the ever-observant, in-house psychiatrist Dr. Zoe Vaughn (Naomie Harris) and her dapperly dressed, recently promoted, second-in-command boyfriend Col. James Stokes (Regé-Jean Page).  This social gathering with fellow spies allows George to secretly place a psychotropic drug in the curry, lowering their inhibitions, creating an opportunity to observe their reactions, as interactions among the group frequently spark subtle shifts in the mood, where a brief glance, a subtle change in tone, or a hesitant remark speaks volumes, enriching the overall fabric of the narrative.  This opportunity allows secrets to be revealed, most of a private nature, exposing cracks and infidelities in each relationship, where a culture trained to deceive simply makes cheating too easy, growing very testy with one another, often driven by their own personal ambitions, featuring stellar dialogue that is delivered at a crisp pace, almost like a screwball comedy, Black Bag Movie Clip - Nothing I Couldn't Handle (2025) YouTube (1:04), recalling the infamous dinner parties hosted by married couple Nick and Nora Charles, a romantically involved detective duo known for their witty banter in W.S. Van Dyke’s THE THIN MAN (1934), where the dinner invite was a glamorous way to flush out the decisive clues to solve a case.  Outing Freddie as a serial cheater, George meticulously details his predictable sexual promiscuity, a provocation that prompts Clarissa to furiously retaliate by stabbing him on his hand with a steak knife.  Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.  While it’s a brilliantly conceived scene, allowing deeply repressed emotions to suddenly erupt to the surface, it also sets the stage for what follows, exposing what has to be the ultimate in workplace romances with the potential for dire consequences, as we’re dealing with clandestine operations that rarely see the light of day, so the film literally toys with the possibilities, poking fun of the somber nature of the business, but also cleverly finding humor at every turn with witty insinuations and quick retorts.       

The sanctity of marriage is broken when George finds a theater ticket stub in his wife’s trash, contradicting her version of events, so he breaks into her office and learns she’s secretly traveling to Zurich without telling him, testing the loyalty to his wife or his country.  His response, completely reflective of their power dynamic, is one of the more ingeniously conceived, diabolically clever scenes of the film, requiring the expertise of Clarissa to redirect a spy satellite while deceiving the agency’s satellite video screens, watched like a hawk by the man in charge, a silver-haired Pierce Brosnan (a playful take on his late 90’s version of 007 himself!) as Arthur Steiglitz, going offscreen for a mere minute or so to allow George to spy on his wife in Zurich meeting someone of interest, a hilarious example of the extent marital partners are willing to go to find out what they want about the other, Black Bag Movie Clip - It's the Only Way - video Dailymotion YouTube (45 seconds), where the wrinkle is a split-second glitch exposing their shenanigans, a subliminal moment and potentially disastrous occurrence that could expose his dirty tricks.  This marital relationship is at the heart of the picture, as it thrives on secrets and lies, yet relies upon trust, a kind of marriage that is unique to cinema, held together by a mutual understanding of the lies they live in, where the wheels of power are forever changing, as both are deliberate, smooth, rarely cracking a smile, where a certain frostiness and cold precision is required in their profession.  George is a cold and clinical character, robotic, seemingly inhuman, like an A.I. invention, never revealing an inner life, yet super intelligent, as his views are rarely challenged, while Kathryn is more socially amenable, a master of disguise moving about with an icy calmness, with a wardrobe right out of Todd Haynes’ 2015 Top Ten List #6 Carol, where her natural disposition tends to put people at ease, allowing her to more easily gain people’s trust, including her husband, but the open question is whether there’s been a breach in their marriage, and whether she’s undermined official state secrets, becoming that mole in their midst.  This see-saw affair of shifting perspectives is the engine that generates the understated power of the picture, where everyone’s a suspect, yet the more George investigates, the more all the clues lead to his wife, delving into moral complications, yet what’s a spy thriller without the spies spying on each other?  When George and Kathryn compare notes and suspect they’re being set up, using each against the other, George shrewdly conducts polygraphs tests that mix the personal with the professional, anything to make each suspect feel precariously offguard, yet his interview with Clarissa, with Abela stealing every scene she’s in, is drop dead hilarious, as she’s devised bizarre methods to beat the test, which truly impresses the usually unflappable George, who is supposedly unparalleled in the art of psychological manipulation, taking this into unfamiliar territory while adding a bit of spice to the mix, Black Bag Exclusive Movie Clip - Polygraph Tests (2025) YouTube (59 seconds).  This sequence is cleverly edited, moving rapidly between agents, merging the personalities of everyone involved, like a musical crescendo, leading to yet another classic dinner sequence designed to catch the culprit, with Kathryn remarking, “It’s been a while since we’ve had a traitor to dinner, at least knowingly,” Black Bag | Official Clip | Cate Blanchett, Michael Fassbender YouTube (1:06), a wonderful return to form for Soderbergh, whose cinematic sophistication really shines.  Something of a throwback to those paranoid conspiracy flicks of the 1970’s, deliciously entertaining at every turn, this is masterful filmmaking, immersing viewers in a sordid universe that we are typically excluded from, yet here we’re given a front row seat in what is easily one of Soderbergh’s best films in years.

2016 Top Ten List #1 Moonlight

MOONLIGHT           A                    

USA  (110 mi)  2016  ‘Scope  d:  Barry Jenkins        Official site

There is always something left to love.  And if you ain’t learned that, you ain’t learned nothing.  Have you cried for that boy today?  I don’t mean for yourself and for the family ‘cause we lost the money.  I mean for him; what he’s been through and what it done to him.  Child, when do you think is the time to love somebody the most; when they done good and made things easy for everybody?  Well then, you ain’t through learning — because that ain’t the time at all.  It’s when he’s at his lowest and can’t believe in hisself ‘cause the world done whipped him so.  When you starts measuring somebody, measure him right child, measure him right.  Make sure you done taken into account what hills and valleys he come through before he got to wherever he is.

—Mama to Beneatha, Act III, Lorraine Hansberry A Raisin in the Sun, 1959

A film that gets into the depths of things most of us simply don’t understand, that lives up to the critical hype by being a smaller, more poetic film that expresses a lyrical grace, featuring some amazing performances.  It’s hard enough being black in America, a completely incomprehensible experience for most whites, but being black and gay is an altogether different island of extreme cultural isolation.  When you think of gay black artists, perhaps writers James Baldwin, Alice Walker, Langston Hughes, and Lorraine Hansberry come to mind, a short list with the latter two remaining ambiguously closeted throughout their entire lives.  Being black and gay was an incendiary subject in the 60’s during the formation of the Black Panther Party in America, where Panther Eldridge Cleaver belittled and derided the homosexuality of Baldwin in homophobic terms in his seminal book Soul On Ice (1968), while earlier Baldwin and black author Richard Wright had their own personal disputes and disagreements, where largely what they were discussing was the subject of black masculinity.  A similar cultural divide erupted with the success of Ntozake Shange’s mid 70’s theater piece For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide / When the Rainbow Is Enuf, as the play was publicly scorned and repudiated by black men in community forums, disgusted by the presence of lesbian characters.  In Chicago, noted journalist, independent radio commentator, and black activist Lu Palmer was the voice of the black community in the 70’s and 80’s, with his incendiary radio commentary known as “Lu’s Notebook,” helping to galvanize the political forces of Harold Washington, the city’s first black mayor in 1983.  But in the early 70’s he also originated “Lu’s Bookshelf,” organizing monthly community forums to discuss books critically relevant to black people, including the controversial Ntozake Shange, but the visibly present outrage expressed by the black community discussing her work was a repudiation of gays and lesbians in their midst.  The stark tone of derision was unmistakable.  Black masculinity has taken on a public persona through athletic success, as seen in Hoop Dreams (1994), where sports has been the gateway out of poor inner city neighborhoods, so for many Americans, watching football or basketball on television often reflects the extent of their knowledge on what constitutes being black in America, as athletes are asked their opinions on a myriad of issues.  These athletes spend their lives with microphones being stuck in their faces wherever they go.  But rarely, rarely, if ever, are any of them outwardly gay.  Let’s see a show of hands for anyone that can name a single black athlete currently playing professional baseball, football, or basketball in America today who is admittedly gay.  A few have announced in college or on their way out of the leagues, but America is simply not yet ready to accept gay black athletes, as it contradicts our perception of what it is to be a black man.  While there is a recurring gay black character named Omar on the television series The Wire (2002 – 2008), but even in independent American cinema, there is a surprising absence of gay black protagonists, which makes this something of a breakthrough film.  James Baldwin, from The Black Boy Looks at the White Boy, an essay directed at author Norman Mailer four years after he wrote The White Negro (Fall 1957) | Dissent Magazine, from Esquire magazine, May 1961:

I think that I know something about the American masculinity which most of the men in my generation do not know because they have not been menaced by it in a way that I have been.  It is still true, alas, that to be an American Negro male is also to be kind of a walking phallic symbol; which means that one pays, in personality, for the sexual insecurity of others.  

Arguably the best film on what it means to be black in America remains Michael Roemer’s Nothing But a Man (1964), a startlingly candid expression that is as relevant today as it was fifty years ago, though ironically it was directed by a white man.  Eight years after the release of his first feature, Medicine for Melancholy (2008), one of the best date movies ever, this is Barry Jenkins’ (who is not gay) adaptation of Tarell Alvin McCraney’s play In Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue, with McCraney a black, openly gay playwright, a 2013 MacArthur Grant winner, where the film blends the artistry of these two black men with similar backgrounds who grew up near one another in the Liberty City Projects in Miami, the same locale used for the film.  A black and gay response to humanist epics like Terrence Malick’s 2011 Top Ten Films of the Year #1 The Tree of Life and Richard Linklater’s 2014 Top Ten List #1 Boyhood, films that make growing up as white adolescent boys in America a universal experience, this is another intensely personal film shown in three parts, at ages 9, 16, and 26, each titled after the same character’s name, and played by three different actors, where the brilliance of the film is personified by the collective power of the overall performances.  Little (Alex Hibbert), a derogatory nickname other students call him, a bewildered, persistently picked-on kid that others bully and routinely gang up on, grown sullen and silent already, Chiron (Ashton Sanders), his name given at birth, seen slinking around the corners of the high school and housing projects, always seen looking over his shoulder, and Black (Trevante Rhodes), a drug pusher called by a nickname, now obsessively muscular and pumped up, physically defined by his masculine image.  Opening in the 80’s at the height of the crack epidemic, the film opens to the music of Boris Gardiner’s “Every Nigger is a Star,” Moonlight | Music of Moonlight | Official Featurette HD | A24 YouTube (2:32), where we’re curiously introduced to someone other than the main character, Juan (Mahershala Ali), a Cuban-born crack dealer who has a major impact on the outcome of the film, a father figure and protector, a guy running a criminal enterprise, yet shows tenderness and understanding in the way he handles a shy young kid he accidentally stumbles upon.  Bringing him home to his girlfriend Teresa (Janelle Monáe), as the shell-shocked kid refuses to talk, they treat him like a “Little Man,” feed him and let him spend the night before he opens up the next morning and identifies where he lives.  Respectfully returning him home the next day, his harried single-mom (Naomie Harris, the only one in all three sections) jerks him inside for a tongue-lashing, Moonlight | Back Home | Official Clip HD | A24 YouTube (1:12).  Juan’s home becomes a safe refuge for this young child, returning again and again to get away from his male attackers, where Juan patiently teaches him how to swim, yet at the same time what Juan sells on the street is ruining his mother’s life, all but abandoning him to the wolves.  In one of the more heartbreaking scenes of the film, he opens up and asks Juan what a “faggot” is?  It’s a rare film that provides an honest answer, but this gut-wrenching question sets the tone for just how real and complex this film is willing to get.  The film challenges the viewer’s perception of stereotypes and broadens the view of characters that are usually perceived as one-dimensional, like crack-addicted mothers or drug dealers, where we tend to lump them into a negative category, while in this film they express various degrees of love and tenderness, showing what they’re capable of, but instead have simply fallen through the cracks.

Luminously photographed by cinematographer James Laxton, who filmed his earlier film as well, accentuating color saturation in chosen scenes, adding a dreamlike, seductive quality to what is otherwise a difficult film, along with a pensive and melancholic musical score by Nicholas Britell that is illuminating and stunningly intimate, available on Spotify, Moonlight (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) - Nicholas Britell - Spotify, where “Little’s Theme” and “The Middle of the World” are used most extensively.  When first introduced to Juan on the corner, the camera does a dizzying 360-degree turn around him, where the swirling effect disorients the viewer from what we are about to experience, shaking us out of any sense of complacency, offering a shift in perspective, requiring that we enter the film with a spirit of openness.  As a teenager in high school, Chiron is openly ridiculed by other males in class, particularly Terrel (Patrick Decile), who hounds and intimidates him incessantly, constantly getting in his face and daring him to do something about it, remaining close friends with Kevin (Jharrel Jerome), a good-natured friend since childhood, though boys at this age tend to openly brag about their sexual exploits, and Kevin is as guilty as anyone else.   His graphic depictions work their way into Chiron’s dreams, where he passively observes Kevin having rough sex with a girl.  At the same time, his mother is a full-fledged crack addict, kicking him out of the house to solicit various men, while growing increasingly hostile about demanding whatever money Chiron receives from Teresa (Juan is now deceased), as this remains his home away from home.  Not having anywhere else to go, he wanders down by the beach one night and runs into Kevin, who has a huge joint to smoke.  After an awkward discussion, they eventually kiss while Kevin passionately fondles Chiron, for whom this is clearly the first time.  In school the next day there is no lingering afterglow, instead Kevin is pressured by Terrel to play a hazing ritual of punching someone of Terrel’s choice.  It turns out to be Chiron, who refuses to stay down, but continues to get back up for more blows. Terrel eventually pushes Kevin away where he and a couple others kick and stomp on Chiron to finish the job before a teacher intervenes, refusing to cooperate with a school social worker afterwards, despite her encouragement to file a police report and put an end to this harassment, as he feels it will accomplish nothing.  It’s interesting to compare this hazing ritual with the more innocent paddling ritual in Linklater’s Dazed and Confused (1993), happening at about the same time, but the cultural deviations between black and white, straight and gay, couldn’t be more markedly different.  The next day in class, Chiron walks into class, picks up a chair, and smashes it over Terrel’s head several times, where he’s lead out of the school premises in handcuffs and placed in a police van, glaring straight at a mystified Kevin who watches in disbelief. 

We are a bit surprised to see the transformation of a skinny high school kid to this buffed, athletic physique, but he spent time in juvenile detention in Atlanta where there’s little else to do, and the man is a workout fiend, waking up early in the morning just to get his repeated repetitions in before falling back into bed.  Now living somewhere outside Atlanta, he’s the spitting image of Juan, running drugs on the street, diamond studs in his ears, even driving the same car, where he’s transformed himself into an imposing figure, using the nickname “Black” that was affectionately given to him by Kevin as a teenager.  Out of the blue, he receives a call from Kevin, who he hasn’t seen or heard from since high school days, who learned to become a cook and now runs a diner in Miami, inviting him to come by, apologizing for what happened when they last saw each other (words Chiron takes to heart), offering to cook something for him, as he heard a song on the jukebox that reminded him of Chiron.  His mother’s in a nearby rehab center, where she may finally be getting her life back together.  The vitriol she displayed in earlier segments are scarred in Chiron’s memory, where a repeating motif comes back to haunt him, where she’s standing just outside a doorway in their home, exaggerated by a heightened neon-pink color scheme, shot in slow motion, accentuated by swirling orchestral violins, where she’s screaming something at Chiron, though the words are never heard.  The meaning, however, is unforgettable, as the rage is always present, recurring in his dreams in the form of a nightmare.  He visits her on the grounds of the rehab center, and is about to abruptly leave, but she grabs his arm and suddenly displays an intent vulnerability, taking him completely by surprise, as she’s suddenly a sympathetic and compassionate figure seen in a new light.  As we see him on the road, driving his car, we hear a familiar refrain, Caetano Veloso Cucurrucucu Paloma Hable Con Ella - YouTube (3:44), a hauntingly dramatic yet utterly sublime song used so effectively in Almodóvar’s TALK TO HER (2002), a reminder of doomed love and an overt reference to the world’s most acclaimed gay film director, yet here we see a long stretch of the highway, with images of black children at play wading into the surf.  The road leads Chiron to a diner in Miami where he finds Kevin (André Holland), where suddenly he’s that same tentative figure seen earlier, shy, inarticulate, yet tragically wounded, hiding beneath the layers of muscles where he’s still the same scared kid underneath.  Their moments together move slowly, patiently, unsure of themselves, with plenty of unfilled space between them, a complex portrait of longing and sorrow, where we can see them thinking, imagining, yet their eyes speak volumes.  Asked about the jukebox song, Kevin plays the 60’s Barbara Lewis classic, Barbara Lewis -- Hello Stranger - YouTube (2:40), which seems to have been written just for this moment.  Both actors elevate the material with understated, unspoken messages, with what’s hidden underneath, the years of regret and marginalization, where there’s simply an extraordinary recognition of what these two guys have been through in their lives, where now, perhaps finally, no further obstacles stand in their way.  It’s a powerful yet fragile moment, filled with lyricism and tender grace.  For all the myriad of walls we construct to protect ourselves from the brutal realities, the strength of the film comes from the quiet acceptance of our own buried truths, where the openness of the characters reflect a director who couldn’t be more empathetic.   

  

Moonlight conversation at the 2016 Telluride Film Festival with the director and five actors on the lawn moderated by film scholar Annette Insdorf, http://telluridefilmfestival.org/show/showroom (50:05).