Answers are provided in a film within the film, an unspooling of memory-tape: It's 1965 again, and Rachel (now played by Jessica Chastain), Stephan
(Martin Csokas), and David (Sam Worthington) make their initial rendezvous in East Berlin—young, energetic, unclouded by remorse. The war criminal
Vogel has been located, and it is their mission to bring him back across the Iron Curtain and to justice.
This central sequence is the beating heart of the film: The callow agents, full of fear and ambition and longings they cannot quite name, crammed
together in a dilapidated apartment, taking turns at the piano and at ju-jitsu practice. The boil of hormones is palpable, and before long a kiss—and
more than a kiss—intended for one man is stolen by the other.
And then there is Vogel, now a gynecologist, whom Rachel visits repeatedly in the guise of a patient—a profoundly unsettling variation on the female
spy who offers her body for her country. Vogel's gentle introduction to each session, "This is my hand, and this is the speculum," may at last
have displaced the "Is it safe?" of Christian Szell—another Mengele stand-in—as the most discomfiting sentence ever uttered by
doctor to patient onscreen.
These excruciating scenes are followed by others only moderately less so, after Vogel is captured and the intimacy reversed, Rachel literally
spoon-feeding the bound man as he begs for a quick death. Throw in a set piece of nail-gnawing intensity, as the agents try to spirit Vogel past East
German guards and onto a train, and the result is a cinematic novella of le Carrean mood and intensity.
Compared to this taut narrative, the latter-day frame can hardly help but disappoint. We return again to 1997, where loose ends have become very loose
indeed, and it is up to Rachel—Stephan having been relegated to wheelchair—to re-tie them. Here, despite the efforts of the talented elder cast, the
film deflates, modestly but perceptibly.
The Debt
is a remake of the 2007 Israeli film of the same title (Ha-hov in Hebrew), with a script by Matthew Vaughn (X-Men: First Class), his
frequent collaborator Jane Goldman, and Peter Straughan (who also worked on the forthcoming adaptation of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy). Director Madden (Shakespeare in Love) ably evokes the Cold War atmospherics, though neither he nor his screenwriters can quite keep the film on track during some
of it sharper narrative swerves.
As the elder Rachel, Mirren is not terribly memorable, though this is perhaps because she has set her own bar so very high. More notable is Chastain,
who continues the summer of her coming out (The Tree of Life, The Help) with a performance that neatly marries strength and vulnerability. Worthington, whom Hollywood promoted to leading man long before
anyone determined whether or not he could act, offers limited evidence that perhaps he can. And Christensen, who distinguished himself in the small
role of "Mr. White" in the last two Bond films, is a mesmerizing monster as Vogel, by turns unctuous and obscene.