Not until very late in this film does a key character explain that “The 355” was the code name of a female spy — identity unknown — who was part of the Culper Ring, during the American Revolution.
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| Having completed their mission (or so they assum), the improvised espionage team — from left, Graciela (Penélope Cruz), Mace (Jessica Chastain), Khadijah (Lupita Nyong'o) and Marie (Diane Kruger) — report their results to Marks (John Douglas Thompson). |
For starters, this story — by Kinberg, Theresa Beck and Bek Smith — concerns four (five?) “clandestine heroines who risk their lives in a fight for freedom against all odds.” (Ya gotta love studio publicity sheets.)
Kinberg’s globe-trotting romp is a well-crafted popcorn flick: an intriguing premise that’s short on logic, long on momentum, and highlighted by some inventively staged — and frequently ballsy — stunt work.
Events kick off in a palatial estate near Bogota, Colombia, where what appears to be a high-profile drug deal actually concerns a small external hard drive that contains a nasty program: one capable of wirelessly interfering with any computer — from navigational systems on a plane, to a phone in your pocket — anywhere in the world.
The deal goes awry, much to the dismay of The Unpleasant Man In Charge (Jason Flemyng). In the confusion, Luis (Edgar Ramírez) escapes with the drive.
Knowing it’s a hot commodity, Luis solicits bids from various international spy agencies, including the CIA; the case goes to impetuous agent Mason “Mace” Brown (Jessica Chastain) and her longtime partner/best friend, Nick Fowler (Sebastian Stan). The exchange, scheduled at a café in Paris, short-circuits when one of the valises is snatched by a bad-ass interloper (Diane Kruger).
Cue the first audacious scuffle/chase choreographed by stunt/fight coordinators James O’Donnell and James Embree, as Nick goes after Luis, and Mace follows the uninvited gate-crasher. The latter gets away, only to discover that she grabbed the valise with the CIA’s $3 million payoff.
On top of which, Luis’ valise — which should have contained the hard drive — has nothing but wadded-up paper: a double-cross. (The first of many, in this oblique story.)
Recognizing that additional help is necessary, Mace heads to London and liaises with former MI6 ally Khadijah (Lupita Nyong’o), a cutting-edge computer specialist who tried to put the espionage world behind her, but (of course!) succumbs to Mace’s plea. Luis, meanwhile, is visited by former lover — and skilled psychologist — Graciela (Penélope Cruz), who persuades him to return to Colombia.
Things go awry again — amid another clash between Mace and the mysterious woman — and the drive winds up in a mercenary’s hands; he flees to Marrakesh.
At this point, the woman is revealed to be Marie Schmidt: not a villain, but an agent of the BND, Germany’s foreign intelligence service. Although she isn’t inclined to play nice with others, Graciela wisely points out the wisdom of pooling resources; the not entirely unified quartet thus heads to Morocco.
(Hardly a spoiler, by the way, since all publicity photos show the four of them, impeccably gowned, like longtime sorority sisters attending a high-society ball.)
Events build to yet another pell-mell skirmish, after which the case appears to be closed. But no! (After all, the film is only half over.) Enter yet another mysterious woman, garbed entirely in black (Bingbing Fan), who throws a fresh spanner into the works.
Whereupon our fearsome foursome finds themselves en route to Shanghai.
A couple of observations, at this juncture:
1) It has become quite difficult, after so many betrayals, to determine precisely who’s calling the shots, and who the true villains are. One murder, in particularly, comes way out of left field. There’s such a thing as being too twisty.
2) It’s amazing how — despite being disavowed by their respective agencies, for going rogue — Mace and/or Marie nonetheless have no trouble arranging clandestine plane transport, cover aliases, cash, weapons and costume designer Stephanie Collie’s knockout dresses, into which all four actresses are provocatively poured.
(Ahem.)
Although Chastain is the nominal star of this shindig, Cruz is the most entertaining. Graciela is the group neophyte: a civilian with a husband and children back home in Colombia, who’s frequently terrified by these events. But she is a psychologist; it’s a hoot to watch Cruz gradually enhance her courage and craftiness.
The remarkably versatile Chastain, recently seen in The Eyes of Tammy Faye, adapts reasonably well to the action genre (although her diminutive 5-foot-4 stature raises eyebrows a bit, when she goes mano a mano with guys a foot taller and twice her weight). Mace is impetuous, stubborn and short-tempered: not necessarily the best qualities in a spy, as her handler (John Douglas Thompson, as Marks) points out, more than once.
Kruger’s Marie is damaged goods: hardened and embittered by an unhappy past, and viewed as a liability by her boss (celebrated German actor Sylvester Groth, given little to do, as Jonas). Kruger is more credibly ruthless and dangerous than Chastain; it’s easy to believe that Marie would be reckless enough to risk her life so doggedly.
Nyong’o makes Khadijah cool, collected and efficient: an island of calm amid Mace and Marie’s sea of chaos. Khadijah’s impressive tech and computer skills definitely stretch credibility, when she’s able to quickly pinpoint people, places and things, but it’s fun to imagine a hacker being this resourceful.
There’s a marvelous scene — at the aforementioned midpoint, when the mission appears concluded — when these women celebrate over alcohol and shared back-stories. The mutual affection and trust feels genuine, and all four actresses are impressively “natural.” If we’ve not bonded with them up to this moment, we certainly do thereafter.
Fan’s character, finally, is … well, that would be a spoiler.
Kinberg manages this party quite efficiently, given that it’s only his second feature (following 2019’s X-Men: Dark Phoenix). He and editors John Gilbert and Lee Smith maintain a crisp pace, which rarely gives us enough time to question coincidence and contrivance. They also get off the stage after a reasonable 122 minutes.
That said, things turn unexpectedly — and unacceptably — mean-spirited, during the climax. (Bad show, Mr. Kinberg.)
Electronica Dutch composer Junkie XL (née Tom Holkenborg) contributes little but deafening noise with his so-called score.
As disposable entertainment, The 355 is well packaged: certainly an enjoyable way to spend an evening. Too bad its theatrical release will be sabotaged by Omicron anxiety.
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