Sacha Baron Cohen and the Perils of Playing it Straight

Sacha Baron Cohen has made a career out of subterfuge. As Ali G, Borat, Bruno and others, Cohen has used his comedic talents to become Hollywood’s best undercover operator, duping Dick Cheney, Sarah Palin, Joe Arpaio, Ted Koppel and more to underscore American hubris, bigotry and overall clulessness with little more than a camera, makeup and an accent. You’d think he’d be a natural for The Spy, Netflix’s new miniseries.

But under the confines of a scripted period drama, Cohen proves less a chameleon and more an apt protagonist for a series that’s short on drama and shorter on plot twists and surprises. The result feels like a documentary that dramatizes portions not caught on camera or through interviews. It’s a serviceable show, and portrays a compelling real-life character. But Spy promises a John le Carré-style drama,  and viewers may feel double-crossed by the unfulfilled pledge.

Cohen plays Eli Cohen (no relation), a real Israeli spy who infiltrated the highest levels of the Syrian government in the 1960s. Baron Cohen is taking on the role not just of a secret agent, but a super one, and the results are undeniably muted, thanks in part to a script that telegraphs where it’s headed in the opening moments of the series.

As The Spy begins, Eli is a happily married Israeli Everyman, an Egyptian Jew forced to expatriate to Tel Aviv.  He bristles at his perceived secondary status as a Sephardic Jew, though his angst is buried within the scribbled love notes to his doting wife Nadia (Hadar Ratzon Rotem). Those conflicting faces underscore The Spy‘s fault line; creator Gideon Raff seems determined to muffle an explosive subject so as not to offend viewer sensitivities. Even the color palate of the series is so dampened as appear black-and-white in sections.

Approached by the Mossad, which is desperate to embed an agent in Syria, Eli turns out to be wiz at spycraft, as a training montage turns Eli into a Bond-ian operative with a memorable call number to boot: Agent 88. Eli learns his new trade from a gruff handler (Noah Emmerich, with one of the more awkward Israeli accents in a series rife with them). Eli begins his identity makeover in Buenos Aires, where he poses as a rich and debonair import-exporter who longs to return to a Syrian homeland he has never seen.

For those not familiar with the real Eli Cohen (he’s much more known in Israel than America), Raff lays out the hero’s arc in the first episode — and scene. The opening shot is a flash-forward to the series’ end, after the Mossad secret agent is captured by the Syrian government and forced to write a farewell letter to his wife. In case you missed the message of the story in trailers, the scene even includes a line of dialogue from a jail observer: “My poor boy, you do not remember your name?”

From there, the series shifts back in time, six years earlier, to portray how Eli turned into the spy he became, and the cost he had to pay in memories and self-identity.  The unforeseeable sacrifice of blind patriotism is fine story fodder, if only it were unforeseeable for viewers. But if you’ve seen any of the Bourne movies, you’ve seen The Spy, just with more nuance, action and acting chops.

What makes The Spy watchable are two intriguing elements: the “true story” gravitas of the series, and the choice of Baron Cohen as the leading man. Sacha Baron playing Eli is a bold decision, given most fans know the chameleon comedian from his situational satires Da Ali G Show, Borat, and Who Is America? Though he’s appeared in dramas before (he was in Hugo and Les Miserables), seeing Cohen play a real-life character with little makeup is an intriguing test of his acting skills — and of audiences’ ability to suspend disbelief.

But after six hours, it’s hard to argue for or against Cohen’s career choice. He hits the emotive marks the script demands, and he hardly weighs down a series that could have crumbled under its own seriousness. But rarely does he  provide more than faces of nervousness or boredom, and it’s hard to tell whether the limitations are in his ability or in the story he inherited. There are even a handful of sterling moments, like when Eli is asked to shoot civilians to prove his loyalty.  But there are too few to call The Spy riveting.

The series benefits from beautiful photography by Itai Ne’eman, and Emmerich adds some much-needed subtlety to the series, despite a clunky accent. Rotem also elevates her character beyond that of a hand-wringing housewife left behind. But the strengths are not enough to negate the series’ looming obviousness. And for a spontaneous actor like Sacha Baron Cohen, predictability is an indefatigable foe.

You can tell fall is just around the corner, because the war between Netflix and theater chains has heated up once more.

Last year, the streaming giant took on big studios and exhibitors with its Oscar-winning drama, Roma. This year, they’ve upped the ante with Martin Scorsese’s mob drama The Irishman. The $169 million film will make its world premiere Sept. 27 at the New York Film Festival, where it’s the opening night film.

A month later, it will air on Netflix after talks between the company and major theater chains, including AMC and Cineplex, broke down. For weeks, there had been speculation the Oscar-hungry Netflix would further soften its stance regarding theatrical windows, but it couldn’t reach a compromise with the largest theatrical chains. Instead, The Irishman will open Nov. 1 in select independent cinemas willing to carry the film, thus giving Netflix the right to run for a Best Picture Academy Award. It will debut on Netflix Nov. 27.

Netflix used the same tactic to qualify Alfonso Cuarón’s Roma for Oscar contention. While that film won Cuarón a Best Director statue, Roma did not capture Best Picture. It did, however, spark a high-profile reaction from some of Hollywood’s top directors, including Christopher Nolan and Steven Spielberg, who argued Netflix should be limited to Emmy competition. But an Academy Board of Governor’s vote earlier this year rejected the rule change, opening the door for the streaming service to continue its Oscar strategy.

Last year, Netflix acknowledged the value of the theatrical experience when announcing that Roma and other Oscar hopefuls would play exclusively in cinemas for two to three weeks before being made available to its subscribers. But that wasn’t enough to appease all Oscar voters — or theater chains, which insist on a 90-day window between the time a title opens and is released on home entertainment.

When Roma lost the best picture race, some cited the lack of box office grosses for the snub. After picking up The Irishman when Paramount passed, top Netflix executives and Scorsese himself immediately began a dialogue with theaters to see what could be done for the film, which stars Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Joe Pesci and Harvey Keitel.

Some thought Scorsese had the clout to broker a peace: He’s been nominated for a Best Director Oscar eight times, more than any other living director. He’s also a powerhouse at the box office; his hits include The Wolf of Wall Street, which grossed nearly $400 million globally, and the Oscar-winning The Departed ($291 million). But no deal could be reached.

Based on the 2004 book I Heard You Paint Houses by Charles Brandt, The Irishman tells the deathbed story of a mob hit man who claimed to have had a role in the disappearance of Jimmy Hoffa.

Earlier this summer, sources say Netflix offered up a 30-day theatrical window before talks crumbled. While Netflix’s minor expansion of its theatrical window this year suggests it’s willing to inch closer to traditional business models for certain films with awards prospects (Roma‘s exclusive theatrical window was 23 days), that window remains far shorter than exhibitors and studios want.

Netflix is hardly alone in questioning the validity of the traditional 90-day theatrical window, considering that most films earn the majority of their gross in the first 45 days. And with the rise of other streaming services such as Disney+, the debate will undoubtedly grow louder.

In the meantime, without the support of a chain like AMC, Netflix will be relegated to playing its titles in indie cinemas such as the Landmark and Laemmle. (Netflix either rents the locations, known as “four walling,” or pays generous terms.)

Scorsese shot the movie on both film and digital and is relying on Industrial Light & Magic to de-age his principal cast for flashback sequences. The Irishman will play first in cinemas in New York and Los Angeles before expanding into additional markets in the U.S. and the U.K. on Nov. 8. It will further expand on Nov. 15 and Nov. 22, according to Netflix.