Simon Kinberg’s The 355 uses the MacGuffin of a software program with nearly unlimited capacity to hack everything from civilian planes to communications satellites to depict an arms race between ostensibly allied intelligence agencies. With no obvious, looming enemy, the byzantine wetwork apparatuses set up by countries in the 20th century are left to fight each other for the pride of taking down whatever new threat comes along. But where other movies have used such a premise as a jumping-off point for commentary on the military-industrial complex perpetuating itself, Kinberg’s film treats it as the backdrop for a trite celebration of empowerment and teamwork among professional women.
When news of the top-secret weapon reaches the C.I.A., they dispatch agent Mason “Mace” Browne (Jessica Chastain) to retrieve the hard drive. From the moment she’s introduced, Mace emanates the kind of two-dimensional steeliness that Chastain has made her stock in trade over the last few years. The “strong female character” has been derided as a type of male fantasy since before Chastain broke out in the early 2010s, and Mace doesn’t break that mold, as she’s a wearying repository of the trope’s most played-out characteristics.
Chastain is all matter-of-fact affect as Mace takes a close, hard squint at her enemies, gruffly barking terse words that are meant to make her sound like she can hang in a world traditionally dominated by men. In rare moments of vulnerability, though, Mace’s loneliness is treated as unique to her own career aspirations, rather than as a common occupational hazard. As such, she’s meant to elicit the kind of sympathy that will cause viewers to overlook her status as a largely unaccountable deep-state operative wreaking havoc across the world.
As is the wont of the spy thriller, already shaky lines between heroes and villains dissolve entirely as various characters double- and triple-cross one another, and soon Mace decides to ally with other current and former spies who are also seeking the software program, each of them women from a different national agency. These include an MI6 computer specialist (Lupita Nyong’o), an initially hostile German agent (Diane Kruger), and a therapist (Penélope Cruz) for the Colombian DNI. Together, they uncover a baffling array of state and private bad actors who are all ultimately putting the world at risk solely for personal financial gain.
The cynicism of spy cinema is a core element of the genre, but The 355 regularly grinds to a halt to celebrate the growing closeness of the ad hock group of transnational operatives in ways that are tonally irreconcilable with its increasingly dark narrative arc. The film spends an inordinate amount of time on endless betrayals and abruptly formed partnerships, often forgetting the connective tissue that might have deepened the story. There’s a pulpy bluntness to the dialogue that might have been welcome if the characters weren’t always so plainly speaking their motivations, but the film’s most risible moments arise from its engagement with global politics. At one point, Nyong’o’s Khadijah confronts a would-be Muslim terrorist by quoting a passage from the Quran that condemns murder, prompting the man to react with shock, as if he never considered in his life that Allah might frown on killing.
The action, ostensibly the real draw of a globetrotting blockbuster, is reduced to short bursts of incomprehensibly assembled shots of gunfire and close-quarters combat. Even an early scene of Mace inside a C.I.A. dojo is cut in such a way that a calm judo throw is turned into a barrage of flailing limbs. This and other such scenes point to the desire of the filmmakers to craft a cool and energetic spy caper, but their jumbled and unimpressive action scenes are a far cry from the thrills of the Mission: Impossible series that they dream of emulating.
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