OUR MAN IN HAVANA: Blu-ray (Columbia 1959) Twilight Time

Oh, what is the love between a father and daughter and the havoc it can inflict on their intertwined lives. We discover to what end in Carol Reed’s disarmingly jocular, Our Man in Havana (1959): the pater, lowly vacuum cleaner salesman, Jim Wormold (played with wry comedic distinction by that superb chameleon of the movies, Sir Alec Guinness) ignominious in his deception of the British secret service, simply to afford his beloved Milly (Jo Morrow) every luxury an attractive and burgeoning young lass could desire. There is a lot going on in Graham Greene’s light, and occasionally harrowing espionage comedy/thriller. First published in 1958, the novel rather prolifically foreshadows the escalation of the Cold War and Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962; light-heartedly poking fun at the naiveté of British MI6 ‘secret intelligence’ to blindly believe virtually every communique leaked to them by operatives for their benefit. Greene, who was MI6, and assigned to their subsection in counter-espionage in the Iberian Peninsula, became fascinated with the way this cloak and dagger game was played, particularly after intercepting false reports from German agents in Portugal knowingly deceiving their own government, simply to bolster their expense accounts. Recalling this incident, Greene completed his first draft of a proposed screenplay as early as 1946, thereafter massaging the particulars to his own satisfaction. Delays and the inevitable passage of time, with proportionate shifts in the political landscape, necessitated changing the original location from Estonia in 1938 to Cuba, circa the late 1950’s.  

Given Greene’s formidable reputation as an author, and the overwhelming success of Carol Reed’s movie adaptation of another of his novels, The Third Man (1949) it is rather astonishing Our Man in Havana has not enjoyed the same reputation over these many years. For certainly, the movie is, if not exactly of the same caliber, then undeniably hewn from a similar pedigree and afforded, among its many assets, a killer cast front-lined by Alec Guinness. Also in it, Burle Ives, whose monumental girth is complimented herein by his sizable cynicism as suspected Nazi sympathizer, Dr. Hasselbacher; Ernie Kovacs, a would-be Latin Lothario, exploiting his position of authority as Police Capt. Segura to woo Milly (and much to Wormold’s chagrin); Noel Coward’s perpetually unnerved and umbrella and homburg toting MI6 recruiter, Hawthorne,  Ralph Richardson’s stuffy and blindsided spy master, ‘C’ (a rather transparent riff on Ian Fleming’s ‘M’ from the Bond novels) and finally, the ever-lithe and lovely Maureen O’Hara (marginalized in a semi-thankless part as dutiful operative, Beatrice Severn). Add to this mix some utterly gorgeous B&W Cinemascope photography by Oswald Morris and the fact director, Carol Reed was allowed unprecedented access in Havana by the newly installed Castro regime just months before the U.S. embargo would make rather bad enemies of this little isle situated off the Florida Keys, and you really have a special happening. Apparently, Castro did not mind a western film crew making fun of the exiled Fulgencio Batista’s administration, although Castro would express dismay afterward; that the resultant movie did not go ‘far enough’ to expose and humiliate the foibles of his predecessor’s crooked politics.

Our Man in Havana is naturally a time-capsule; as virtually all movies, whether or not they are based on political themes, eventually become. Yet, in this case, the lack of decline and overthrow of the brothers Castro and their stronghold on Cuba has managed almost to keep Our Man in Havana as relevant today as when it premiered. Curiously, it is Graham Greene’s screenplay that disappoints, or rather, ends perfunctorily on the opacity of a Hollywood-ized ‘happy ending’, heartwarmingly silly in all its saccharine sweetness. Carol Reed’s direction herein is accomplished – period; finding the moody nuances and comic timing in some truly stimulating sequences. These build upon the misdirection that Guinness’ bungler knows precisely what he is doing. Early on, Hasselbacher gives his meandering cohort some expert advice about deception. “Manufacture and you do no harm,” he suggests. Ironically, it is Wormold’s fabrications of the truth that eventually lead to some terrible consequences for all concerned.

Segura is convinced Wormold is up to something, but side-swiped by his own pursuit of Milly to take the matter under more serious advisement. At one point, Segura pointedly tells Wormold, if not for Milly his deportation papers would have been signed long ago. Indeed, the Cuban government has made men disappear for less. The threat is therefore real, even if the outcome is fancifully handled. Juggling all these balls in this crazy world of make-believe espionage and willful imaginative fantasy, Wormold eventually confides both his shortcomings and the truth to Beatrice, the one person from whom he is assured a sympathetic ear. Predictably, she empathizes rather than chiding Wormold for his zeal and lies. Let us be clear: Bea is in love with the only ‘real’ fellow she has met in a very long while. Another time…another place…

Our story begins in the exotic and sexually charged capital under Fulgencio Batista’s reign: sun-filtered, palm tree-lined public squares dissected by tight and winding, shadowy cobblestone byways where almost anything is for sale at a price. Enter James Wormold; unprepossessingly, a vacuum cleaner salesman, approached under Segura’s watchful eye by Hawthorne, who casually attempts to recruit him for MI6. We learn Wormold’s wife – a one-time ‘good Catholic – has left him. Currently, he lives above his shop with his 16-year-old devoutly Catholic, though equally as materialistic and manipulative daughter, Milly. Her passion is horses; also, joining the local country club where she is certain to find herself a rich husband. Segura would like to fit that bill and pursues Milly – much to Wormold’s dismay and Milly’s frequently flirtatious rejections. The girl is playing hard to get; a dangerous game as Segura gives every indication he will only take ‘no’ for his answer for so long. How long? Hmmmm.  As Wormold barely makes enough to get by, he reconsiders Hawthorne’s offer. In London, Hawthorne’s superior, ‘C’ is most distressed ‘their man in Havana’ has not sent out a single communique regarding the current rebel unrest brewing in the countryside. Ordering Hawthorne to twist his operative’s arm for information, Wormold feebly attempts to procure operatives from several socially-bungled contacts he makes at the country club, including local businessman, Cifuentes (Gregoire Aslan) whom he confronts in the men’s room, suspiciously suspected of having ‘ulterior motives’.

Unable to legitimately establish his network of spies, Wormold confides his quandary to WWI veteran Dr. Hasselbacher who instructs him to simply ‘make up’ the news of the day and invent operatives to satisfy MI6’s need for secret intelligence. While Wormold uses a few real names from the country club’s roster, including Prof. Sanchez (Ferdy Mayne) to fatten his farce, and adds a bit of homegrown spice by suggesting local cabaret dancer and prostitute, Teresa (Maxine Audley) as the Mata Hari of his group, he draws inspiration for crafting several brilliant sketches of a hidden installation in the Cuban mountains from the inner workings of one of his vacuum cleaners.  ‘C’ is overwhelmed by this news. But Hawthorne immediately recognizes the sketch and sincerely worries for his own reputation within the organization. To either confirm or quash Wormold’s report, MI6 sends Beatrice Severn and a skilled radio operator, Lopez (as Jose Prieto) to be the organization’s eyes and ears.

Upon her arrival, Beatrice makes a rather awkward enemy of Capt. Segura at a local nightclub, sprinkling him with soda water. She also informs Wormold she will be taking over his contacts, starting with the pilot, Raúl – assigned for a top secret flying mission to gain photographic evidence of the hidden installation. Wormold evolves an elaborate plan to have the fictitious Raúl meet with an untimely end. Much to his surprise, a real person with the same name is killed in an apparent car accident. It does not yet dawn on Wormold perhaps his encrypted communiques to London have been intercepted by the other side, already begun their process of elimination, cribbing from Wormold’s country club contact list. Instead, Wormold uses the incident to suggest to Beatrice absolute secrecy must be maintained. Only he can have direct contact with his agents. Only now, Wormold begins to realize the parallels between his fiction and reality. Fearing the worst, he employs Beatrice, who still believes the contacts to be real, to help him try and save the real people who share names with his fictional agents. This leads to a very awkward confrontation with the formidable Teresa. In the meantime, Hawthorne makes it known to Wormold an assassination plot is afoot. He is to be poisoned by an unknown Soviet spy while attending Havana’s Trade Association luncheon. Beatrice encourages Wormold to abstain from the function. Nevertheless, he attends as its guest speaker, promising neither to drink or eat anything. Finagling his way out of dinner, Wormold reluctantly accepts a whiskey from fellow vacuum cleaner salesman, Carter; a congenial fellow whom he has already become acquainted with earlier. At the last possible moment, Wormold deliberately spills his drink, the drops lapped up by the headwaiter’s dachshund. Shortly thereafter the dog suffers the effects of poisoning and dies. As retaliation, Carter murders Hasselbacher at the club’s bar.

Returning home, Wormold discovers Segura once again pressing him for Milly’s hand in marriage. Wormold wants Segura’s list of known spies in Havana to send back to London. As barter, he suggests a game of chance; draughts, using miniature bottles of Scotch and Bourbon as game pieces that must be consumed immediately. Since Segura is the superior player he ends up drunk first and passing out from his excessive liquor consumption. Skillfully, Wormold disarms Segura, photographing his spy list with a microdot camera. Next, to avenge Hasselbacher, Wormold convinces Carter to accompanying him to a local brothel. There, he takes a pot shot at Carter, but horribly misses. Carter retaliates. Wormold shoots back in self-defense and manages to kill Carter.  Curiously, when Wormold’s microfilm is developed in London it is blank. Having had quite enough of the spy game, Wormold confesses everything to Beatrice. Dutifully, she reports him to MI6 and is quickly reassigned to another post in Jakarta. In Graham Greene’s novel, British intelligence begrudgingly offer Wormold a teaching post at headquarters, plus the order of the British Empire to maintain his silence. Segura has Wormold deported. Wormold and Beatrice become engaged and Milly is sent to a Swiss Finishing School, paid for by Wormold’s ill-gotten gains. The movie’s finale is far more open-ended; Wormold, exonerated by ‘C’ of any wrong doing but left to his own accord. He and Beatrice leave MI6 together, briefly amused by a street vendor selling wind-up toys; one shaped like a vacuum cleaner. Wormold turns it over to read the manufacturer’s label, ‘Made in Japan’ – gives the toy back to the seller and hurries off with Beatrice as Milly obtusely looks on; enamored to be standing in the heart of London.

Our Man in Havana is a magnificent amalgam of the traditional spy thriller and ribald English farce with a light peppering of romantic comedy for good measure. Not all of these ingredients prove seamless; but they do come together for particularly long stretches, allowing the audience their involvement and distractions along the way. Alec Guinness is one of my all-time favorite actors; with that mellifluous and calming tenor in his voice, those slightly sad and affecting glances he gives to sum up deep wellsprings of personal angst and genuine human regret. His Wormold is a dough-headed dilettante. Yet, Guinness does not play him as such, but rather, just a fellow out of his depth to whom the keys to the kingdom have been mistakenly offered. I have never seen Guinness give a bad performance. Actually, not even a mediocre one. He always seems to be on, and just right in his naturalistic manner; charming with an undercurrent of intellectual finesse that, in others, would likely translate as stiff-britches stuffiness, but under the full command of his formidable actor’s acumen, manifests as genuine abandonment of the artificial emotions that would ring tinny and untrue, if only to embrace the even more astutely observed theatricalities of life itself. We call this genius – pure and simple; and Guinness had it in spades; droll, amusing, and instinctually an actor’s actor.

The supporting cast is on par with Guinness; perhaps elevated by his presence to do their best. Despite their all too brief and occasionally transient appearances throughout this one man show, on sheer essence and star power alone we get a real feel for what makes each and every one of their alter egos tick; Ralph Richardson’s devious puppet master, knowing just enough to know he doesn’t know it all, still able to dig his way out of a seemingly impossible hole; Burl Ives’ embittered ex-pat, driven to drink in order to keep his roiling blood pressure in check; Ernie Kovac’s oily but mindful military man, harboring genuine affections with sad-eyed clarity the woman in question will never truly love him back, and finally, Maureen O’Hara’s doe-eyed enabler, joyously devoted to a man she can see is so woefully out of his depth, yet fervently committed to the greatest cause of all – his daughter’s happiness. Our Man in Havana is impeccably cast and this, along with Oswald Morris’ startlingly beautiful B&W cinematography elevates what might otherwise be considered a rather conventional spy story to a whole new level. Despite its constant counter lever teetering from ferocious comedy to deadly serious drama, the nub of the farce remains immeasurably good fun; spry, sophisticated and thoroughly satisfying.

Twilight Time’s release of Our Man in Havana on Blu-ray is reference quality. Sony, custodians of the old Columbia/Horizon Pictures and Tri-Star/Rastar libraries continues to illustrate, under Grover Crisp’s tutelage, why they have remained at the forefront of hi-def mastering for more than ten years. No other company has been as consistent in their efforts to bring vintage and deep catalog movies to life in such pristine presentations. There is really nothing I can add here, except to reinstate Our Man in Havana has a wonderful organic feel; revealing razor-sharp clarity and perfectly balanced contrast with a light smattering of superbly textured film grain. Even obvious dupes and opticals look superior. You are going to love – LOVE – this disc. It’s that simple. The DTS 2.0 mono audio illustrates the virtues of a properly curated track, frontal sounding, but clean, crisp dialogue and composers, Frank and Laurence Deniz’ underscore delivering some uncharacteristic and full-bodied richness. TT gives us another isolated score track, marred by the inclusion of SFX. My one regret is TT and Sony could not get together on an audio commentary or brief featurette. Our Man in Havana is deserving of both. Otherwise, this one is a no-brainer. As it is also a limited edition, you will definitely want to snap up a copy today before it goes out of print.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

5

EXTRAS

1