Spies constitute an important element of state socialist reality and its cinema; therefore, we dedicate this special issue of Studies in Eastern European Cinema to this character. Two observations can be made from the articles published on this occasion. First, the spy, or the secret agent, can ‘infiltrate’ all cinematic genres. The intelligence-gathering person functions chameleon-like in different narratives: comedies, romcom, action thrillers, sci-fi, to name just a few. However, the genre of the spy film is still easily recognisable through familiar stereotypes and tropes. In relation to the development of genre cinema in Eastern Europe, the discussions featured in this collection are intriguing and revealing, as they exhibit a wealth of avenues into analysing moving images, censorship, norms and conventions, media technologies and identity politics. Second, the character of the spy is unquestionably linked to the nation state, even if it is examined through transnational, international, or intra-national constellations. This of course echoes cinema itself. The work of a spy is involved in crossing various borders, but the first border that needs to be crossed is that between knowing and not knowing. Other borders can easily be found inside the nation, where information-gathering from ordinary citizens, organised crime syndicates or political oppositions is the ultimate objective. This cross-border activity has implications in relation to trust and allegiance, with betrayal and treason never far away. This is an important reason why we enjoy stories about these characters so much. In a way, they rehearse paradoxes and conflicts within our own identity formation. The spy can be both villain and hero, often switching from one to the other within the same narrative, which opens up space for our own transformation, from allegiance to betrayal, from loyalty to treason. In this way the spy film, as the authors of the eight articles included in this issue demonstrate, tells us who we are, who we want to be and who we once were.
Elżbieta Ostrowska examines Agnieszka Holland’s film Fever (1980), which centres on the 1905–1907 revolution when Poland was under Russian oppression. Fever has been said to be ‘prophetic’ in foreseeing the rise of the Solidarity movement. However, Ostrowska is cautious in this regard, arguing that it is more likely the case that cultural products are more sensitive to emerging political phenomena than works of sociologists and historians. Nonetheless, Fever proves an exemplary case for examining the doubleness of agents and spies, as everyone in the film can be perceived as a potential secret agent. Secretly engaging with an ‘enemy’, whoever she or he is, identifies the paradox in national unity, as allegiance can be fleeting due to money, indifference or opportunism. As Ostrowska potently illustrates, ‘playing the double game’ can end even the strongest desire for a national utopia. Holland’s film engages with a national discourse that has difficulties being pieced together from disparate allegiances.
In Piotr Zwierzchowski’s article, we get an exclusive insight into the writings of the Script Assessment and Film Approval Commission and their evaluation of popular genre films. Spy films from the 1960s are in focus here, but, in particular, the discussion regarding Password: Korn (Strużyński and Kawka, 1968) is highlighted. The establishment of genre cinema was by no means a foregone conclusion, as ideological compromise could not be made by the Commission. This genre exploits could not be based on ‘primitivism and bad taste’ or a lack of social commitment in the spirit of socialism, as Zwierzchowski notes. As the evaluation and film reviews reveal, the spy film had to skilfully balance the need to entertain audiences with an intriguing plot while safeguarding social and political content. Zwierzchowski’s paper offers insight into the fears and conflicts of the committee members, which in turn shows how meaning and interpretation of cinema struggled with the popular genre of the spy film.
In ‘Non-Aligned Spies’, Adrian Pelc focuses on three films from the early 1960s in Yugoslav cinema. Pelc argues that these three films have been overlooked in favour of auteur cinema, which dominated critical attention of the era, and the far more recognised genre of the partisan film. According to the paper, X-25 Reports (Čáp 1960), Point 905 (Relja 1960) and ABC of Fear (Hadžić 1961) deliver on all the ‘nouns and verbs’ belonging to the spy film genre, despite their historical reception telling us otherwise. Pelc argues that the way these spy films treat the Cold War borderlines is specific to Yugoslav cinema and could not happen in other Eastern European countries.
Balázs Varga’s piece on female secret agents in films and TV series across Eastern Europe, such as Entanglement (Bromski 2011), X-The eXploited (Mészáros 2018) and The Sleepers (Zachariáš 2019), linking current politics and the spy thriller genre is in focus. Using Holmes’ and Krastev’s identification of the rise of illiberalism in Europe as a springboard, Varga finds in these stories of former socialist secret agents a struggle between individual agency and the dark corridors of political powers, in which the audience can take solace as (our real-world) liberal democracy slips through our fingers. These ‘screenings’ of dark conspiracy highlight an increasing disbelief in actual change through politics and the female agent as the main battle site for the struggle between agency and communal concerns.
The Sleepers is also the focus of Irena Řehořová’s paper, which examines how the TV series, as a transnational production, attracts global audiences through genre conventions as well as through local particularity. The TV series suggests that the Velvet Revolution was not as spontaneous as has been previously projected or perhaps remembered. Řehořová concludes this by drawing attention to the power mechanisms behind the curtain. The Sleepers stands out from other popular fictionalisations of the transition from communism to liberal democracy and that the genre of the spy film helps reveal this perspective. The show reminds us that we need to wake up and be attentive to manipulation from convert forces.
In Veronika Hermann’s article, the target is surveillance technologies as represented in two TV series produced by Netflix and HBO. Hermann argues that the depiction of surveillance and a network of secret agents, in particular 1983 and Hackerville, revives the Cold War framework as a form of self-colonisation, where remembrance is constructed for international audiences rather than local eyes. In other words, the depiction of totalitarian socialism in these shows is with a western flavour, and intended as a warning signal for contemporary viewers against populist leaders, rather than a representation of how things actually were. Where agents of the past acted according to their own agency, agents on the global streaming platform are turned into subjects of panoptic states where all are under surveillance. Hermann shows that the Cold War map of Europe is still in operation through colonial depictions of failed 1989 transitions.
In the last two articles, educational films are in focus. László Strausz analyses educational films from the 1950s, arguing that they question the way the doctrine of socialist realism was implemented. Strausz finds evidence of a reflexive style of filmmaking that alludes to genre conversions of the spy film, but also finds evidence that the representation of the secret agent changes according to the conventions of socialist realism. Christian Ferencz-Flatz looks at educational films from Romania about the work of the Securitate during the 1970s and 1980s. Reflecting on a turn towards a nationalist self-representation, he argues that these secret agent films ‘tickle’ national pride and as such were meant to cement allegiance and trust in the secret police as guardians of the nation. Interestingly, the Ceaușescu regime saw cybernetics as something that needed protection, thus revealing a self-image of Romania as a champion of science and technology.
On top of the feature articles, this special issue contains four book reviews unrelated to the central theme of spies and agents. Christian Ferenc-Flatz reviews Romanian cinema: thinking outside the screen by Doru Pop. Nick Hodgin introduces Cinema of Collaboration: DEFA Coproductions and International Exchange in Cold War Europe by Mariana Ivanova. Fabio Bego discusses Albanian Cinema Through the Fall of Communism: Silver Screens and Red Flags by Bruce Williams. Constantin Parvulescu reviews Beyond the New Romanian Cinema: Romanian Culture, History, and the Films of Radu Jude by Andrei Gorzo and Veronica Lazăr.
Lastly, a note on the making of this special issue. It was Eva Näripea who instigated this intriguing issue on spies and agents in Eastern European cinema. So, while our names are on this editorial, we also salute Eva for her foresight and contributions to this issue. Thank you, Eva!