A Glimpse of the Opening Scene

We kick off with some vintage black-and-white footage showcasing a military parade in Moscow's Red Square. It's evident that Hitchcock didn't film this segment himself—he simply couldn't afford to pay the staggering number of troops honoring whatever Soviet leader was in power at the time. Instead, he borrowed this footage, adding his twist by colorizing certain parts in a striking crimson to underscore the evil nature of the Communist spectacle.

Now, we find ourselves in Copenhagen. Why? Just because!

Here, we encounter a discontented family (a grumpy father, a mother with a questionable perm, and a presumably disgruntled adult daughter still living at home) stealthily escaping what resembles a fortified residence or possibly the Russian Embassy. Lengthy scenes ensue to build tension, as we ponder their intentions. Ultimately, their goal is to seek asylum in America, a mission they undertake in a rather baffling manner—touring a ceramics factory, breaking dishes, dashing at odd intervals, and frantically reaching out to a Washington contact, played by John Forsythe as "Mike Nordstrom," to arrange a diplomatic getaway. And he does.

Just as their plan seems secure, chaos erupts when the daughter, craving more screen time, collides with a slow-moving motorcycle while crossing a busy street. She dramatically tumbles, showcasing the pitfalls of casting less-than-stellar actors. Fortunately, the escape team manages to whisk her away just before armed pursuers arrive.

Once in Washington, the family settles into a grand mansion, a typical arrangement for KGB officials seeking refuge. The father immediately comes across as insufferable, yet his knowledge of Moscow keeps him in favor with the bureaucrats. This includes a car tour of the capital, during which the daughter becomes overly excited seeing The White House, indicating she has her own set of issues.

Meeting Andre Devereaux

We then meet Andre Devereaux (Frederick Stafford), a French diplomat. His wife, Nicole, played by an even less competent actress than the one who met her downfall in Copenhagen, is unreasonably anxious and sports an outdated flip hairstyle. She perpetually whines and makes feeble jokes about traditional dishes—definitely not someone I’d send a holiday card to.

American agent Mike convenes with Paris agent Andre. The pompous KGB father has divulged potential Russian-Cuban conspiracies that need investigation. Given that these nations harbor a strong dislike for Americans, Mike asks Andre if he can take the lead on this task. Their conversation leads to a revealing exchange:

Andre: "You and I have done things for each other that no other agents would do."

Mike: "And I'd like to keep it that way."

I sense an underlying tension there, don’t you?

Andre agrees to assist, not only because the plot requires it but also to escape his high-strung wife. His first objective is to obtain documents from a Cuban named Rico Para. However, Rico appears to have missed the lesson on sharing, making this a challenging endeavor. On the upside, Rico's assistant, Luis Uribe, is open to selling secrets for a few bucks. Both are located at the Hotel Theresa in Harlem. Off we go!

The Subtle Art of Espionage

Andre opts for a creative approach, enlisting the help of a florist named Phillipe Dubois (Roscoe Lee Brown), who moonlights as an espionage agent when tulips are out of season. Phillipe enters the hotel while Andre watches from across the street, managing to orchestrate a plan that grants him access to the upper floor where Rico (and Luis) await. This sequence unfolds from Andre's perspective, with no audible dialogue from the interior, reminiscent of the silent heist in "Rififi," a homage that may or may not be intentional.

Phillipe manages to reach the upper floor, convincing Luis to snatch Rico's briefcase while he distracts Rico, leading to an extended scene where both men gaze at the briefcase with an intensity that feels almost erotic. Their plan surprisingly works, and they scurry back to Luis's room, where Phillipe states, "I'm not going to fail in your bathroom."

Moments later, Rico realizes the deception. He and his fiery-haired assistant, Hernandez, approach Luis's room. In classic Hitchcock style, we zoom in on Rico's hand on the doorknob, twisting it with unnecessary deliberation before addressing Hernandez.

This is where I must pause my recounting of the plot, as we’re just nearing the one-hour mark of this two-plus-hour film. The story takes many twists that I don't want to spoil for potential viewers.

Highlights Without Spoilers

Here are some intriguing non-spoiler moments to anticipate as the film progresses:

• Someone leaps from a high window, miraculously surviving thanks to an awning, defying both gravity and common sense.
• A character quips, "Let the Americans do their dirty work," affirming our dubious talents.
• Two lovers find intimacy beneath a radium clock, oblivious to the ominous buzzing of a nearby Geiger counter.
• Critical electronics are artfully concealed within oversized sandwiches—definitely a culinary faux pas.
• A telephoto lens finds its way into the most absurd chicken carcass imaginable.
• A dramatic death scene unfolds, complete with flowing couture—if you must go, do it in style.
• John Forsythe faces an unexpected challenge involving a tray of ice cubes—this must surely be the moment his hair turned gray.

In summary, "Topaz" is a moderate Hitchcock film. While the plot has its merits and offers some fascinating filmmaking techniques, it suffers from the director recycling old tricks that have lost their charm over time. The most engaging sequences seem borrowed from other directors who executed them with greater finesse.

Cheers!