Skullduggery in the twilight of the Ottoman Empire, centered around a seedy little secret agent more Kafka than Graham Greene, occupying a remote Aegean island, faithfully filing reports to the Sultan and hearing nothing in return for twenty years, and now caught up in a plot that he (and we) can only dimly apprehend. The character is viable enough, but the story never builds any steam (dull-skuggery might be a better term), and the image is given an amber glaze that's dulling in its own way. Ben Kingsley, Charles Dance, Helen Mirren; written and directed by James (son of Basil) Dearden. (1988) — Duncan Shepherd
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