Here’s an opening sequence that should go down in pop culture history. Paul Giamatti and Tom Wilkinson duke it out on a rain drenched airstrip, watched but not stopped by horrified security detail. They thrash about in a nightmarish dance as only two out-of-shape greedy sons-of-business executives can, in jaw dropping slow motion. Between the clownish spectacle and the shouted insults we lip read, it’s a whale of a start.
But “Duplicity”moves fast from sideshow to polished, sophisticated and wry. It’s a grown up and career-enhancing return for Julia Roberts who wipes away memories of the doe-eyed ditz with maturity and understanding. She shares a witty, caustic but clandestine relationship with rival corporate spy Clive Owen. He’s a crafty Brit of mysterious vintage. They have a complicated history as adversaries and lovers. Their union is utterly lacking in trust but packed with chemistry which very nearly excuses the film’s plot holes and excessive length.
“Duplicity” is a cynical romp that reflects the pre-crash era we once knew just a few months ago. The real star of the show is corporate malfeasance. Like the avarice of A.I.G., Duplicity’s evil corporate world is of Shakespearean proportions.
Giamatti is in a deadly game of brinksmanship with Wilkinson’s character. They are heads of rival deodorant manufacturers in the business of stealing one another’s secrets, driven not to create and develop but to ensure the other guy fails. When one comes up with a new product the other wants it not because it may be good but merely because it exists and belongs to the other guy. No one knows what it is.
The complicated plot interweaves their duplicitous romance with high stakes espionage. Gilry doles out information in tiny increments, making us believe a certain set of realities and then upending them for another - and so on for over two hours. Delightful surprises from supporting characters add to the mix but close attention is required. The only constant is the love story and it’s not immune from fearsome pummeling.
Gilroy’s followup to “Michael Clayton” is just as slick and smart, but there are no big revelatory moments for our guilt ridden operatives. The corporate world of Clayton is frightening, but “Duplicity”s is kind of dumb. Both films are intelligent, engaging and refreshingly cerebral, and free of the commonplace violence of most adversary films now.
“Duplicity”s final chapter and scene is worth the price of admission, the parking and the dinner. And it’s a nice wee warning to greedy guts all over the world.
35mm romantic
Your Talkback on this Story