THE IPCRESS FILE: Blu-ray re-issue (Lowndes/Rank, 1965) Kino Lorber

 With its obsequious spy masters wielding absolute power from behind a veil of diabolical secrecy, director, Sidney J. Furie’s The Ipcress File (1965) aspires – and mostly delivers – on its promise to be the ultimate counterintelligence non-Bond espionage thriller of the 1960’s. Bill Canaway and James Doran’s screenplay is remarkably faithful to Leonard Cyril Deighton’s profoundly disturbing novel. Deighton, a British military historian, cookery writer, graphic artist and novelist, perhaps never intended to find everlasting fame in any of the aforementioned professions; his anti-social alter ego, Harry Palmer, remaining a nameless enigma for almost half of the first of four novels, featuring this decidedly uncharismatic protagonist. In retrospect, The Ipcress File is something of a response piece to the James Bond franchise. Produced by Harry Saltzman - half the team responsible for Sean Connery’s magnificent debut as MI6’s 007; super spy extraordinaire - Saltzman was perhaps already conscious of the fact he was losing his creative toehold in the Bond franchise to co-founder, Albert R. ‘Cubby’ Broccoli, the decidedly more charismatic showman.  As portrayed by Michael Caine, Harry Palmer is the antithesis of James Bond - dour, unglamorous and not particularly adept at his job. He is, however, a man of conscience who allows loyalty to cloud his better judgment. In retrospect, Palmer is Saltzman’s doppelgänger, the man who would be king, if only he could figure out where he had mislaid his crown. Alas, for Saltzman, the road to success would be paved with very crooked stones, never quite interlocking as they should. By 1974, Saltzman was out of the movie business, ruined by it, in fact; his own failure to produce a bona fide hit, independent of his co-productions with Broccoli, eventually impacting his credibility with investors.

The Ipcress File is a thoroughly perplexing and fairly monumental work of daring understatement. Otto Heller’s no-nonsense cinematography, shot under naturalistic lighting conditions, is exquisitely complimented by John Barry’s rather bizarre underscore, part homage to the swingin’ sixties mod scene, yet with a queer undercurrent of foreboding unlike anything heard in a James Bond movie. Barry may not have written the James Bond theme, but he orchestrated the iconic Bond sound for decades to come. For The Ipcress File, Barry delves into decidedly less thematic underscoring. There is no ‘Harry Palmer’ theme, as example, and no reoccurring leitmotif to prompt the audience as to what will happen next. Instead, Barry relies almost exclusively on an ever-evolving series of chords, deftly repeated with increasing variations. Like the Canaway/Doran screenplay, we are never entirely certain where Barry’s musical journey is bound, yielding to a sense of the uncanny in the everyday brought forth by an unsettling lack of compliance with traditional underscoring techniques. It all works spectacularly well and to the film’s advantage. The Ipcress File is a tale of espionage at the highest levels of government, of rogue elements conspiring to brainwash their own, a covert operation not even our protagonist is certain exists until he accidentally stumbles across the holy grail and is forced – almost - to pay the supreme price for his meddling. The word ‘Ipcress’ is a foreshortening, expanded as the Induction of Psychoneuroses by Conditioned Reflex under Stress methodology for mind control. Michael Caine’s laconic loner is the un-Bond, a deviously unsympathetic cockney scamp who doggedly refuses to surrender his investigation, despite the fact it continues to lead him from one proverbial dead end to the next without much hope for culminating in a successful resolution.

There is no harrowing, drawn out chase sequence in The Ipcress File, no death-defying leaps from tall buildings or carnage inflicted with various modes of moving transportation and/or weaponry. This isn’t the Hollywood-ized version of the British spy, rather - and arguably – the real thing, critiquing this covert club as they actually are - bookish, unassuming, nameless and forgettable faces, capable of blending into any crowd. Today, Caine’s cockney scrapper is justly celebrated for his rakish ‘charm’, intentionally glib, working class, tough as nails, and, not above manipulating the variables to suit his own interpretation of the assignment at hand. Harry Palmer cannot be bought. This makes him the ideal agent - also, ironically, the man to fear by the power structure seeking to keep him in the dark, even as they deceitfully allow him latitude to get closer to the truth. You have to love a guy who is so morally conflicted he would toil in the trenches for Queen and country while miserably detesting the machinery behind his investigation and the exercise. Is Harry Palmer a glutton for punishment? Perhaps, although at some base level, the work must be gratifying for his ego. After all, looks can be very deceiving. In his Coke-bottle glasses and rumpled suits, Harry Palmer looks like an accountant slightly gone to seed. But he thinks like a traitor and hangs on like a pit bull, a tantalizing anomaly in conflict with our built-in expectations of the super spy.

The Ipcress File opens with the startling disappearance of Radcliffe (Aubrey Richards), a scientist kidnapped right under the nose of his security escort (Howell Evans) and later found murdered and stuffed in the baggage rack at the train station, replaced with a look-alike. Enter Harry Palmer, a tastily sullen British Army Sergeant with a criminal past, presently toiling for the Ministry of Defense. Summoned by leading operative, Colonel Ross (Guy Doleman), Palmer is told he is being transferred to another section overseen by Major Dalby (Nigel Green). Ross suspects a rogue element in the organization. In the past twelve months, sixteen of their leading scientists have inexplicably dropped off the face of the earth. Their vacancies leave Dalby’s position precariously hanging in the balance. The crux of the matter is simple: Dalby needs Radcliffe back. Palmer accepts his new assignment, as the replacement for the dead security point man, befriending fellow operative, Jock Carswell (Gordon Jackson) at his first departmental meeting. Dalby’s debriefing of Radcliffe’s disappearance is to the point. Dalby suspects Erich Ashley Grantby – codename ‘Bluejay’ (Frank Gatliff) of conspiracy: also, his chief of staff, codename ‘Housemartin’ (Oliver Macgreevy). Exploiting an old Scotland Yard connection, Palmer locates Grantby, who feeds him a bogus contact number. Palmer rings it, learns he is been set up, and tries in vain to prevent Grantby from escaping. Instead, Housemartin attacks Palmer and the two cohorts get away. Sometime later, Carswell and Palmer get wind Housemartin has been arrested. However, when they reach the police station, the pair learns two other men have already been there, impersonating them to gain access to Housemartin’s cell. It’s too late. Housemartin has been murdered to keep him silent; a dead end – literally.

Palmer suspects Radcliffe is being held against his will at a factory near where Housemartin was picked up. However, on Dalby’s orders, a cursory investigation of the abandoned facility yields few clues, apart from a frayed bit of audio tape marked ‘Ipcress’. Alas, when played back, the recording produces only a meaningless and very garbled noise. Working against the clock, Palmer reestablishes contact with Grantby and a trade for Radcliffe’s successful release. The exchange goes according to plan, except Palmer accidentally shoots a CIA agent hiding in the shadows. As luck would have it, the agent was tailing Grantby too, and Palmer begins to suspect he is – again – being set up to take the fall for another botched sting operation. Another CIA operative threatens to kill him if he discovers his partner’s death was no accident. Not long after Radcliffe’s safe return it becomes apparent something has happened to his mind.  Whatever intelligence Radcliffe was working on has been systematically erased from his memory. Carswell discovers a book on IPCRESS he believes explains what has happened to Radcliffe and the other scientists. Carswell borrows Palmer’s car to test his theory on Radcliffe. Regrettably, he is killed en route to his destination. Believing he was to have been the intended target, Palmer returns to his flat, only to discover the body of the other CIA agent sprawled across his bed. Too little/too late, Palmer also realizes someone has stolen the Ipcress file from his locked desk drawer. Painted into the proverbial corner, Palmer confides his theories to Dalby, suspecting Ross as the mole and citing a previous encounter where Ross asked Palmer to microfilm the Ipcress file in secrecy. At their clandestine rendezvous, Dalby urges Palmer to disappear – at least, for a while. He is much too hot to handle or debrief.

For old-time sake, Palmer makes a pit stop at Jean Courtney’s (Sue Lloyd) apartment. Another operative – presumably, in the Dalby camp - Jean had been getting hot and heavy with Palmer for some time. Regrettably, Palmer is much too close to the truth to actually see it. Jean is working for Dalby. Palmer discovers her treachery too late, is taken hostage on the midnight train to Paris and awakens hours later in a dank prison cell, presumably in Albania. After several days of sleep deprivation, denied adequate food and necessary warmth, Palmer is reintroduced to Grantby. Having read the Ipcress file, Palmer now realizes Grantby intends to wear down his mental resolve, a precursor to the applied mind-warping experiment about to take place. Strapped to a wheelchair and placed in a claustrophobic cube into which bizarre projections of light and sound are applied, along with Grantby’s voice plying hypnotherapy, Palmer uses extreme pain, pressing a rusty nail into the palm of his hand, to distract from falling under the Ipcress’ spell.

It’s no use. Grantby’s electronic sights and sounds eventually wear Palmer down. He is programmed with a ‘trigger phrase’ – “Listen to me” – that will allow any command to be force fed into his subconscious thereafter. Several days later, Palmer feigns illness in his prison cell. But the guards coming to investigate are instead knocked senseless as Palmer makes a daring escape through this labyrinth, scaling its high walls, only to discover he is not in Albania, but actually, downtown London. Telephoning Dalby to reveal his situation, Palmer is unaware Dalby and Grantby are working together. Dalby uses Grantby’s trigger phrase to get Palmer to summon Ross to the warehouse. But has the hypnotherapy really taken hold? For upon their arrival to the warehouse, both Dalby and Ross are held at gunpoint by Palmer as he attempts to sort out who really murdered Carswell. Ross confides in Palmer. He was only testing him when asked to microfilm the Ipcress file. Dalby invokes the trigger phrase, ordering Palmer to ‘kill the traitor now’. Instead, Palmer strikes his wavering fist against a piece of metal, the intense pain from his open wound reawakening him to the reality his thoughts are being manipulated by Dalby. Palmer shoots Dalby dead, reproaching Ross for endangering his life. Far from sympathetic, Ross rather callously explains to Palmer, it’s all just part of his job. Our story concludes with Palmer and Ross casually walking away together, leaving Dalby’s lifeless remains on the warehouse floor.

The Ipcress File is decidedly not your traditional spy thriller. Rather, it is a sustained character study and methodical deconstruction of the game of espionage, expertly paced and superbly realized by all of its principal players. The Canaway/Doran screenplay is a minor masterpiece, eschewing any and all clichés associated with the formulaic movie thriller, concocting and maintaining its own level of unique suspense. Michael Caine is, of course, the star, although, in his own understated way, he quietly pulls us into a performance that is both saucy and aloof. And despite his deliberately innate ‘unlikeable’ quality, Harry Palmer gradually grows on us - like fungus on a tree. Palmer is an acquired taste, best sampled without any preconceived notions about ‘who’ and ‘what’ is a British spy. Otto Heller’s cinematography captures Palmer’s askew world, exploiting extreme angles and over-the-shoulder dialogue exchanges, often with the most benign foreground props and/or half faces in extreme close-up obscuring at least part – if not most – of the shot. It all adds to the movie’s heightened level of disturbing curiosity; also, the downward spiral of Palmer’s tenuous toehold on this runaway investigation. 

Kino Lorber has finally come around to licensing The Ipcress File for a Blu-ray release in North America. Dirty, little secret here – the movie has been available in hi-def for more than 6-years, via ITV and in a ‘region free’ 1080p transfer so similar to this state’s side reissue that, if you already own the ITV disc, you may want to forgo this one to save a little coin to spend on something you don’t already own. Advertised as a ‘new 2K restoration’, Kino’s is actually the same 2K restoration from ITV, mastered with a higher bit rate for minimally improved contrast and better resolved grain. Honestly, while improvements are there, you really have to look for them. Color saturation is virtually the same, flesh tones appearing a touch richer on Kino’s release. Contrast deepens also, and, fine details abound. Impressive work has been done – but it was also the case on ITV’s offering. As with ITV’s release, we get two audio options: original ‘restored’ 2.0 DTS or a new 5.1 DTS which is limited by its source, and so, provides only a negligeable upgrade that, of course, lacks the original’s authenticity.  Where Kino’s release bests ITV is in the extras. ITV’s was a bare bones affair. Kino gives us 2 audio commentaries; the first, from a 1998 LaserDisc release with director, Sidney J. Furie and editor Peter Hunt. The other hails from ITV’s DVD release from 2006 and features authors, Troy Howarth and Daniel Kremer. Both are well worth a listen, but I think I preferred the Howarth/Kremer track. Also, from ITV’s 2006 DVD release, we get a regurgitated 20-minute interview with Michael Caine and an 11-minute interview with Production Designer Ken Adam. Tragically lost in the shuffle is the nearly hour-long documentary on Michael Caine’s career, plus a lampoon skit, ‘Michael Caine goes ‘Stella’’. In their stead we get Howard Rodman’s episode of Trailer From Hell, more trailers and a few radio spots. Bottom line: The Ipcress File is an exceptionally nuanced, darkly purposed spy thriller that continues to hold its own. If you don’t already own the ITV release, or are interested exclusively in the extras, then it is time for a repurchase. Recommended!

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

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

4

EXTRAS

3.5