Okay, let's dust off the VCR head cleaner for this one. Remember those spy thrillers from the Cold War era? Often grim, rain-slicked affairs filled with trench coats, microfiche, and existential dread? Then there was Hopscotch (1980), waltzing onto the scene like a mischievous uncle crashing a wake, reminding us that espionage could also be... well, fun. It asks a simple, delightful question: What if a seasoned CIA operative, pushed too far by bureaucratic buffoons, decided his ultimate act of defiance wasn't defection or violence, but meticulously embarrassing his former employers by publishing their secrets, chapter by chapter, while leading them on a merry chase across continents?
A Different Kind of Spy Game
That's the genius premise cooked up by novelist Brian Garfield (who, ironically, also gave us the much grimmer Death Wish) and brought to life with effortless charm by director Ronald Neame (whose diverse credits include The Poseidon Adventure (1972) and the stylish caper Gambit (1966)). Our disgruntled spook is Miles Kendig, played with unparalleled, rumpled brilliance by Walter Matthau. This isn't James Bond or George Smiley. Kendig is weary, witty, loves Mozart, and frankly, seems more interested in a good bottle of wine and intelligent conversation than saving the world. When his new boss, the perpetually apoplectic Myerson (Ned Beatty, perfectly cast as a symbol of arrogant incompetence), dissolves Kendig's department, Kendig doesn't just retire – he shreds his file, walks out, and begins penning his memoirs, mailing chapters to intelligence agencies worldwide.
What follows isn't a high-octane action spectacle, but a delightfully clever cat-and-mouse game. Kendig, always several steps ahead, skips from Salzburg to Bermuda, London to the American South, using his old skills not for clandestine operations, but for sheer, elegant evasion and public mockery. He's aided, often bemusedly, by Isobel von Schönenberg (Glenda Jackson), a former lover and fellow intelligence player living comfortably in Austria. Their reunion isn't just plot machinery; it’s the heart of the film.
Matthau and Jackson: A Masterclass in Chemistry
Let's talk about Matthau and Jackson. Their chemistry is simply electric, built on mutual respect, shared history, and an intellectual spark that crackles in every scene. It’s a joy to watch two Oscar-winners operate at the peak of their comedic and dramatic powers, trading barbs and collaborating with an ease that feels utterly authentic. Matthau insisted Jackson be cast, reportedly turning down hefty offers until the producers agreed. It was an inspired demand. Jackson, fresh off roles demonstrating her fierce dramatic intensity like A Touch of Class (1973), matches Matthau beat for beat, her cool intelligence a perfect foil for his playful rebellion. She isn't just a love interest; she's his intellectual equal, a co-conspirator who clearly enjoys the chaos Kendig creates as much as he does. You believe entirely in their shared past and their rekindled affection.
Their dynamic elevates Hopscotch beyond a simple caper. It becomes a story about companionship, about finding someone who truly understands your wavelength, even amidst the absurdity of international espionage. Watching them navigate Kendig’s elaborate scheme, often while discussing opera or literature, is pure cinematic pleasure. Supporting roles are equally strong, particularly Sam Waterston as Joe Cutter, Kendig's former protégé tasked with bringing him in. Waterston portrays Cutter’s growing frustration and reluctant admiration for his old mentor beautifully, providing a necessary anchor of professional duty amidst Kendig's gleeful anarchy.
Behind the Curtain: Charm and Craft
The production itself mirrors the film's spirit – intelligent, slightly rebellious, and effortlessly stylish. It’s a film that feels distinctly anti-Bond. There are no exploding pens or laser watches here. Kendig relies on wits, experience, payphones, and the occasional rented biplane (which Matthau, an experienced amateur pilot, apparently flew himself in some shots). The locations – Salzburg, Paris, London, Washington D.C., Savannah – aren't just backdrops; they're integral parts of Kendig's playground, beautifully shot by cinematographer Arthur Ibbetson. The budget was a relatively modest $12 million (around $44 million today), but Neame uses it effectively, prioritizing character and script over costly set pieces.
Brian Garfield co-adapted his own novel with Bryan Forbes, and their script is tight, witty, and refreshingly adult. It trusts the audience to keep up with Kendig's machinations and appreciate the subtle digs at bureaucratic incompetence and the often-pointless nature of the spy game. The constant weaving in of Mozart isn't just a character quirk; it underscores the film's elegant structure and Kendig's own sense of playful artistry in his elaborate scheme. There's a sophistication here that feels miles away from the broader comedies of the era. I distinctly remember renting this on VHS, expecting maybe a slapstick affair based on Matthau's presence, and being surprised by its sharp wit and satisfyingly intricate plot. It felt like a discovery then, and it holds up remarkably well now.
Enduring Appeal
Why does Hopscotch still charm after all these decades? It’s the near-perfect casting, the sparkling dialogue, the satisfyingly clever plot, and its gentle but pointed critique of institutional arrogance. It’s a film that celebrates intelligence – both the spy kind and the sheer brainpower of its protagonist and his partner-in-crime. Sure, the technology is dated – the reliance on payphones and typed manuscripts feels almost quaint – but the core themes of individual defiance against lumbering systems, and the sheer joy of outsmarting the opposition, remain timeless. It never feels mean-spirited; Kendig’s revenge is precise, embarrassing, but never truly malicious. He’s having too much fun for that. Doesn't that resonate – the desire to respond to absurdity not with anger, but with clever, well-executed mischief?
***
Rating: 8/10
Hopscotch earns its 8 for being a masterclass in witty, character-driven espionage comedy. The central performances by Matthau and Jackson are simply superb, their chemistry elevating the already clever script. While not an action blockbuster, its intelligent plotting, sharp dialogue, beautiful location work, and gentle skewering of bureaucracy make it incredibly satisfying. It's a film that respects its audience's intelligence and delivers pure, sophisticated enjoyment.
What lingers most after the credits roll? For me, it’s the image of Walter Matthau, that lovable curmudgeon, gleefully outfoxing the entire intelligence apparatus of the Western world, all set to the strains of Mozart. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most effective weapon isn't a gadget, but a well-placed punchline and a brilliantly executed plan. A true gem from the early 80s video store shelves.