Republished from the show notes of my other site, Fuds on Film.
CIA agent Laurence Fassett (John Hurt) is heartbroken after his wife is killed by the KGB, as far as he knows, and throws himself into his work, uncovering a ring of Soviet spies, called Omega. CIA director Maxwell Danforth (Burt Lancaster) okays a scheme by Hurt to turn one, or all of them, while keeping schtum about the fact the Danforth actually ordered Fassett’s wife’s termination.
Back to the scheme. As simply arresting the three fingered Omega agents would tip off the KGB, Fassett intends to use the longstanding, university era friendship between them and the non-treason suspected firebrand investigative journalist, Rutger Hauer’s John Tanner to drive wedges between them and unravel the wider network. While Tanner cannot initially believe his buds were in fact budskis, seeing footage of meetings between suspicious characters and Dennis Hopper’s Richard Tremayne, a plastic surgeon, Chris Sarandon’s Joseph Cardone, a trader, and TV producer, Craig T. Nelson’s Bernard Osterman soon changes his mind, his only price being an interview with Maxwell Danforth when the dust settles.
The location for this scheme is one of their upcoming periodic weekend reunions, this time round at Tanner’s gaff, which Fassett stuffs to the gunwhales with surveillance equipment like it’s the house out of Night Trap. And, a side note, the alternative treatment of this material where the reunion occurs at Bernard Osterman’s residence, called Weekend at Bernie’s, is a radically different but more successful take on the subject matter.
At any rate, between some probing questions and subtle interjections of eyebrow raising prerecorded material, combined with some prior hints dropped by the CIA that someone’s on to them, it’s hoped that one or more of the compromised agents will confide in Tanner and try and find a way out. At least in terms of raising questions, tempers, and fists, this part of the plan seems to be going swimmingly.
And, well, at this point I have more than a few questions about the setup but was happy enough to go along with it, and I think it’s a setup with a lot of potential, however it’s very much a script that seeks to keep you invested by not so much pulling rugs out from under you, but the entire foundation of the story. And I suppose for the sake of good form I should give you some spoiler warnings, even for a near thirty year old film, but as I very much don’t recommend this film I don’t suppose it matters all that much. But you have been warned.
See, it turns out that Fassett had indeed figured out that Danforth is responsible for his wife’s death, and has concocted what has to be cinema’s most needlessly elaborate, resource intensive, obviously prone to failure, could not work in a billion years across a billion multiverses scheme to get revenge, I think, by forcing Tanner to expose Danforth by holding Tanner’s wife and kids hostage, which seems to have been something that Fassett could have simply done at any point by just giving Tanner an interview, which, turns out, he also does, so what the hell the point of any of the last ninety minutes of film is a complete mystery to me, and from having a poke around, also to audiences at the time, and also to the screenwriters, and the actors, and the director. At least I’m in good company.
Speaking of, this was controversial director / drunk Sam Peckinpah’s last film, and is by all accounts a fairy ignominious exit, albeit more of a continued ignominy rather than any sudden drop off. A shame, as a large part of my reason for wanting to watch this pair was to have a butcher’s at some of Sam Peckinpah’s work, as he’s another of these directors whose work I feel I ought to be more familiar with, but these lows do not have me yearning for any highs out there. It’s also overall a pretty solid cast, but one completely underserved by material that doesn’t give anyone any real characterisation to play with, although Hurt and to a degree Hauer pull things along with goodwill earned from other, better films.
There’s other avenues for criticism, like some overall flat direction and some surely dated at the time attitudes to gratuitous female (naturally) nudity, but the very massive problem of a plot that cannot stop making you ask, “But, Why?” every two-minutes past the half hour mark really doesn’t need any further examination. I suppose I should say, partly because of this baffling plotting I actually didn’t hate watching The Osterman Weekend, in a train-wreck sort of way, although I do not for one second recommend anyone seek it out.