It was the superb Michael Clayton that made me aware of the talents of writer-director Tony Gilroy.  My estimation for him went up even more when I found out he was a key writer on the Bourne films.  Smart, kinetic, and engaging, his work is sleek and intelligent with an ability to connect with large audiences in a way that David Mamet’s sadly fails to.  Which is a shame, as Mamet and Gilroy share some stylistic tendencies and, perhaps, sensibilities.  Anyway, all of this is a way of saying that I was very interested in checking out Gilroy’s latest, Duplicity.

Like Michael Clayton, the new film is an exploration of human values set against a backdrop of corporate intrigue.  Like Michael Clayton, it stars a male hunk in the form of Clive Owen, here performing alongside Julia Roberts.  Like Michael Clayton, the narrative is non-linear, telling its story over the course of several years through numerous flashbacks.  Unlike Michael Clayton, reviews have been decidedly patchy, which made me even more curious to see for myself what was going on.

Clive and Julia are both in the espionage game, with the emphasis on the word ‘game’.  They’re smooth operators who have a thing for each other, and hit on the idea of retiring young on the money they can make by hiring their services out to the corporate sector.  So far, simple enough.  But there are layers — and layers upon layers — within that concept as it unfolds, making Duplicity like origami say, or filo pastry: something you know is tough to create, and that most people are too sensible to attempt for themselves.  And, as with folded paper and baklava, a little goes a long way.

It’s undeniably clever stuff, but what’s at stake is too interior for the audience to be massively concerned.  When Julia Roberts is being Erin Brockovich, we get involved with her quest for justice, her path to empowerment, and so forth.  Here, she may or may not love Clive Owen and may or may not be pulling the wool over his eyes, and the same goes for him with regard to her.  Meh.

There’s certainly rich material here, but it’s pretty esoteric and self-involved compared to the payoff in Michael Clayton, which was a clear vindication for the George Clooney character and a condemnation of Tilda Swinton’s.  There’s no equivalent catharsis in Duplicity, which is a shame when — rightly or wrongly — the audience are expecting some kind of romantic shenanigans, albeit filtered through a corporate style Mr & Mrs Smith scenario.

Ultimately, it’s that failure to engage with audience expectations that is Duplicity’s downfall.  And I say that with resentment, since it validates Brit screen guru Phil Parker’s claim that understanding genre is important to creating successful cinema.  Here, a contract is established with the audience that is undermined by a filmmaker intent on creating a film that subverts such a relationship.  Which is kind of fine at an intellectual level, but ultimately fails to satisfy, and the confused and unhappy response of the majority of the audience leaving the cinema made it clear that Duplicity had failed to connect with them.

Most of the 18-25 year olds I come across fail to understand that it’s not the mobile phone that they’re having problems with, but the person at the other end of it, and that chucking it across the room is not going to similarly propel their antagonist away.   And, in the main, films are designed to be viewed by 18-25 year olds.  Especially films with big name actors that have to sell a lot of tickets to make any money.  And I just don’t see that many 18-25 year olds being interested in a story with the tricksiness of Duplicity, the very title of which indicates that you’re in for some kind of shell game, where your understanding is the pea that’s being shifted around under the shells.