THE RUSSIA HOUSE
A film review by Frank Maloney
Copyright 1990 Frank Maloney
THE RUSSIA HOUSE (I may slip and call this the Russian House somewhere in the course of this notice--I once lived in a Russian-language-only institute call Russian House and the habit is ingrained, I fear) stars Sean Connery and Michelle Pfeiffer with Klaus Maria Brandauer and Roy Scheider inter alia; it is based on a novel by John LeCarre of the same name.
This is touted as LeCarre's first post-Cold War suspense novel-cum-movie, and so it may be; but alas Cold War (pre-, post-, or amid) thriller have never been my preferred reading genre and I have not had the pleasure of any of LeCarre's efforts. However, I have seen movies based on his works, THE SPY WHO CAME IN FROM THE COLD staying especially in the memory. And my memory is that as stories they were pretty well muddled affairs and my impression has been that they did not translate the novels into film well.
I think it is possible LeCarre and his readers have been better served in THE RUSSIA HOUSE. The screenplay was written by Tom Stoppard, a very respectable writer in his own right. Certainly, I was left with none of the "well, somebody did something to somebody, that much is clear at any rate" (as Alice said after hearing the "Jabberwocky") feeling I've felt in the past in the face of this cloak-and-dagger tomfoolery.
Here, instead, I have a pretty straightforward kind of story, with a beginning, a middle, and an end. This is not to say it doesn't have its surprises, twists, turns, and suspense. It's just that here the theme is crystal clear throughout: loyalty. People's loyalties are tested, defined, and put the test. The final loyalty, the one the film endorses ultimately, is typical of our post-CW sensibility, and I for one am glad to see it.
As to the performances, Connery, Pfeiffer, and company do good solid, yeomanlike work. I don't think anybody really sails here, but no one does a pratfall either. In some ways, Connery's performance could be the most suspect insofar as he turns one of his standard curmudgeons-with-a-heart-of-gold interpretations; but the man has such presence, such command of the screen, that it is hard not to just bathe in it gratefully even though I did not find him nearly as disreputable in the beginning as he should have been, nor his transformation nearly so graduated as it could have been.
Pfeiffer in so ways takes more chances with her role as Katya, the go-between, the Russian woman who loves both Brandauer the great scientist and Connery the sodden British publisher. For one thing, she does a pretty creditable Russian accent and speaks a little Russian here and there in a not embarrassing way as near as this former student of Russian can detect.
Among the supporting players, Brandauer and Scheider are the most familiar to me. For those of us who have seen COLONEL REDL, all other Brandauer performances seem footnotes; but I can't think of film that hasn't been better for his presence (especially the worse ones, like OUT OF AFRICA). I was just wondering to myself the other day what Roy Scheider was doing these days. Here he plays the CIA bigshot and does a good job of being alternately (or simultaneously) a jerk and a gentleman. James Fox plays his British counterpart (at Russia House) and does a fine turn. His real purpose appears to be slimy in just such a civil way as puts the upstart Yanks in their place.
One of the real draws of THE RUSSIA HOUSE is the wonderful location photography, especially that in Moscow and Leningrad. This must be the first Western thriller that was shot in the Soviet Union instead of using Helsinki as a stand-in (see GORKY PARK, for example). Fascinating, revealing and gorgeous, used to great effect throughout. Fred Schepisi, the director, and the production people, especially the director of photography, Ian Baker, ought to be in line for some appropriate recognition in this area.
I have no problem in recommending THE RUSSIAN HOUSE to anyone who doesn't mind quite a lot of rough language. There's no nudity, no open sex, no graphic violence, but oh the language.
-- Frank Richard Aloysius Jude Maloney
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