Hair Of The Dog That Bored You
In the grand scheme of the world’s socio-political climate, France gets laid a lot. The US pushes many of the smaller countries around and makes a great deal of noise, but spends quite a bit of time jerking off to grappling magazines. Germany smiles a lot and looks friendly, but there’s something wrong with the way it looks at you and asks where your last name is from, and no one wants to be alone with Thailand. France, on the other hand, impresses women with a sexy accent, sophisticated continental tastes, and the way it flicks the tip of its tongue over your earlobe.
However, Agents Secrets is France the day after stumbling home to your hostel at 4 am. France spent the night, and now your room smells like curdled milk and it kind of hurts to shit. In the harsh light of the morning, what looked like a sexy stubble is actually a weeks worth of beard after a bender, and the sensuously shaggy hair is leaving grease stains on your pillow. The liberated European lifestyle is manifesting itself in poor hygiene and even worse manners, and you’re beginning to notice that the accent is not covering up a stunning lack of education.
And that’s what this film is: a hung-over France. Ostensibly a spy thriller, Agents Secrets is anything but thrilling. Clearly too nauseous to do anything, much of the film involves spies walking from one place to another or doing research. There’s a car crash about 90 minutes in, and an off-screen murder at one point, but by then the audience has nipped off to the bistro for a quick croque-monsieur and an expresso, terribly frustrated that the film managed to get the capital of Estonia wrong in the first five minutes. Star Vincent Cassel is usually in action films, and Monica Belluci is usually in good films, but I guess the morning this film was made, they were too tired for either.