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‘The Mole Agent’: a romp that takes a sober turn

Dan Webster

Above: A scene from the Chilean film "The Mole Agent."

Movie review: “The Mole Agent,” written and directed by Maite Alberdi, starring Sergio Chamy, Rómulo Aitken. In Spanish with English subtitles. Streaming through Amazon Prime, Google Play, iTunes and more.

Sometimes movies go as planned. Sometimes, though, they evolve during production into something far different from what was originally outlined.

That latter situation seems to fit Chilean filmmaker Maite Alberdi’s documentary-style film “The Mole Agent.” I say “seems” because Alberdi’s intent isn’t initially clear. I say “documentary-style” because Alberdi’s film ends up being a blend of reality-based documentary and fictional narrative.

Here’s the conundrum: Much of the film’s footage involves a factual exploration of the day-to-day existence of the residents who live in a Santiago, Chile, nursing home. It’s the narrative, or fictional, aspect of the film that blurs the distinction between what’s real and what’s make-believe.

Alberdi, who teaches documentary filmmaking to Chilean university students, says she began her film with a specific conceit in mind: that of making a kind of geriatric James Bond film, featuring an octogenarian man who is hired to investigate criminal neglect in a nursing home. As she explained to the British newspaper The Guardian, her intent was to experiment with form, function and the very definition of documentary film.

To that end, she sought out Rómulo Aitken, a real-life one-time federal police officer now working as a private investigator. Aitken, in turn, cast about for the right guy to infiltrate the nursing home and discover whether the mother of his client (whom we never meet) is being mistreated. While we see several candidates being interviewed, Alberdi – through Aitken – ultimately settles on 83-year-old Sergio Chamy.

The idea is to place Chamy in the home, which is populated overwhelmingly by women, so he can seek out the client’s mother and check on her care. He is told he should be prepared to spend at least three months on the job, and – at least initially – he agrees … because, as he explains, his wife had recently died and he was tired of seeing the same old places, all of which, presumably, remind him of what he has lost.

What sets Chamy apart, other than the fact that he’s working undercover, is that he still has a loving family – a daughter, grandchildren – to depend on. In one scene, his daughter is near tears as she explains how hard it will be to be without her father (remember: she just lost her mother, too.).

The same can’t be said for the women Chamy meets. And he meets quite a few (at one point, the home’s gender count is put at 40 women and just four men). Among them are a poet, an insistent but petty thief, a woman who is afraid that she’s losing her memory and a woman who has long imaginary phone conversations with her mother. And the main thing they all have in common is that they’ve been cast aside by society, abandoned by children and grandchildren who have their own lives, their own battles to wage, and who seldom visit.

As the new guy, Chamy attracts particular interest. His mission, so to speak, is unknown to the residents, so to explain the presence of cameras Alberdi told residents she was doing a study on nursing-home life itself. That’s how her camera catches the women discussing Chamy, saying how handsome he is, how gentlemanly. Inevitably, romance rises. One resident, Berta, even tells the nursing home director, “I would consider giving God my virginity through my future husband,” referring to Chamy. Her feelings, though, aren’t reciprocated.

Why? Well, maybe it’s because Chamy still misses his wife (that’s what he tells Berta, anyway, gently letting her down). More likely it’s because it just didn’t fit in with the film that Alberdi really wanted to make. Because over the final half, the whole spy conceit is put aside, and Chamy becomes less of a spy than everybody’s best friend.

Which might be what Alberdi had in mind all along. After all, how many people would willingly seek out a film that, ultimately, is a study of the loneliness of late life? Yet the prospect of watching a film about a guy who can’t even figure out how to use his iPhone yet is trying to get to the bottom of possible criminal activity? That sounds far more likely to attract a viewing audience.

The Sundance Institute describes “The Mole Agent” as “a stylish combination of an observational documentary and a spy movie, with sleek camerawork and wonderfully watchable characters.” If you ignore the obvious attempt at salesmanship – what does it really mean to be “wonderfully watchable”? – the description is mostly true.

As for the notion of Alberdi’s movie being a “spy movie,” well, think of what spies do: They fool you into thinking they are something they definitely are not. Ultimately, that’s exactly what “The Mole Agent” ends up being: something that passes itself off as a fun adventure but then transforms into something honestly moving and profoundly sad.