From the first shot, of Noel Coward in a dark suit and hat, tightly rolled umbrella, and immobile face striding down a Havana street besieged by grinning musicians and beggars, we know what we're in for: a story of chilly British imperturbability undermined by Latin misrule. The usual way this happens is through love or lust, but this movie has a subtler and darker theme--an amusing fantasy, in a dictatorship, turns into something seriously and horribly real.
Attracted by the money that secret-service work will bring, but clueless as to how to do it, Wormold (Alec Guinness), a vacuum-cleaner salesman, makes up reports inspired by comic strips. But not only does London take them seriously--so does the other side, which has cracked his code.
Our Man in Havana starts out as a comedy, but the humour turns to satire and then to a very black comedy indeed. Wormold's spy stories result in misunderstanding, then embarrassment, then murder, until he is put in a position where, though it's the last thing he wants, he has to become a hero, perhaps a dead one.
An irony that went unappreciated at the time was of Alec Guinness expressing his disgust of homosexuals in one scene and, in another, being comically mistaken for one (in a maneuver shown him by Noel Coward!).
Not many big laughs, but lots and lots of knowing and rueful smiles are what this movie inspires--it's a very dry martini in a world of brightly coloured alcopops.
Attracted by the money that secret-service work will bring, but clueless as to how to do it, Wormold (Alec Guinness), a vacuum-cleaner salesman, makes up reports inspired by comic strips. But not only does London take them seriously--so does the other side, which has cracked his code.
Our Man in Havana starts out as a comedy, but the humour turns to satire and then to a very black comedy indeed. Wormold's spy stories result in misunderstanding, then embarrassment, then murder, until he is put in a position where, though it's the last thing he wants, he has to become a hero, perhaps a dead one.
An irony that went unappreciated at the time was of Alec Guinness expressing his disgust of homosexuals in one scene and, in another, being comically mistaken for one (in a maneuver shown him by Noel Coward!).
Not many big laughs, but lots and lots of knowing and rueful smiles are what this movie inspires--it's a very dry martini in a world of brightly coloured alcopops.