Reel Reflections

 “The Informant”

The Case of the Crazy Whistleblower 

Dave Greiser

Most good filmmakers become adept at making one or two clearly identifiable types of film. Clint Eastwood is the master of the flawed hero genre. Quentin Tarantino creates films which brilliantly reference other films; his movies may be described as film-as-a-world-of-its-own.

Steven Soderbergh’s body of work is eclectic. Soderbergh’s career began with sex, lies, and videotape, a small indie film about a man who films women talking about their sexuality, and the resulting effect on the relationship of a married couple. It continued with Erin Brockovich and Traffic, two films that explored government complicity in white collar crime, and whistle-blowing. Next he veered into the world of the action-caper comedy with “Oceans” 11, 12, and 13.

Soderbergh’s latest experiment is “The Informant.” This film returns to the theme of white collar crime, but approaches it with the breezy, ironic tone of the “Oceans” films. “The Informant” is closely based on Kurt Eichenwald’s book The Informant: A True Story. It recounts the real-life story of Mark Whitacre, a biochemist and vice-president of Archer Daniels Midland (“supermarket to the world,” for you public radio listeners). ADM is one of those companies that put corn sugar into almost everything we consume, from breakfast cereal to Pepsi to prescription medicines. 

In the early 1990s, Whitacre brought down ADM when he exposed to the FBI a global price-fixing scheme involving the nutritional additive lysine-one of ADM’s leading products. Several top executives—including Whitacre himself—went to jail. Whitacre, ironically, served the longest sentence, while his supervisors were given shorter terms.

Whitacre is played here by Matt Damon, who packed on 30 pounds and donned a huge pair of glasses, a mustache, and a ridiculous toupee for the role. Damon plays Whitacre as a science geek-turned corporate executive, a brilliant, fumbling guy who does some really stupid things. 

At the beginning of the story we wonder at Whitacre’s motives for blowing the whistle on the company that has made him rich. He initially appears to be a bumbling good-heart, confessing to the FBI because it’s the right thing to do—and because his wife (Melanie Lynskey) insists he come forward. But as events unfold, his motives blur, his actions become more duplicitous, and even his psychological state teeters toward imbalance.

Eventually we learn that, at the same time that he has been wearing a wire to record the dealings of top level meetings, Whitacre has been squirreling away millions of dollars in kickbacks from deals he is [has] been making for the company. What was he thinking?
Throughout the film Whitacre voices his own inner monologue. While at first his observations seem simply inane and humorous, we eventually allow them to become the film’s omniscient, if unreliable narrator.

For me, the strongest part of “The Informant” is not the story itself. At the level of plot, this is just a tale of corporate greed being brought down. The plot is complicated, and the viewer feels appropriately lost in its first half as the story takes several unexpected turns. But finally it reaches a satisfying conclusion.

It’s at the level of human nature and motivations that I found this film involving and fun. Who was (is) Mark Whitacre? A scientist? An executive? Someone who genuinely wants to do the right thing? An opportunist? A pathological liar? A mentally disturbed genius who is marginally in touch with reality? Or some combination of all of the above? It’s a tribute to Damon’s acting that he is able to unveil much of this mixed palette of characteristics simply by how Whitacre walks from his office to the car (you’ll have to watch the movie to see what I mean).

What about Mark’s wife, Ginger? Is this the strong woman urging her man to do the right thing? At first she seems to be. But when the feds swoop down on her husband, she becomes protective of his reputation and the lavish lifestyle his success has afforded her. In the end she comes across in part as an opportunistic, privileged mafia wife—willfully ignorant of her husband’s world and ways. Melanie Lynskey plays Ginger with just the right mix of ditz and duplicity.
The FBI agents are interesting, too. Soderbergh has fun portraying them as well-meaning dim bulbs who never can manage to place the listening device or camera in the right place, and always seem a step behind the thoughts and actions of their targets.

“The Informant” has its flaws. Some will find the technique of the unreliable narrator confusing—I, on the other hand, found it a deft touch. By making a comedy about corporate crime, Soderbergh gets laughs but sacrifices moral punch in the process. 

At times the film seems unsure which tone to adopt—ironic or serious. Half a dozen smaller parts in the film are played by stand-up comedians, rather than actors. Viewers aged 50 and above should look for a couple of cameos by Tom and Dick Smothers. It’s fun to see these people, but a little distracting. Also distracting is the jazzy, late ’60’s game show sound track. (Hint to directors: if we keep noticing the soundtrack of the movie, it’s probably too intrusive!)
I watched “The Informant” on DVD because it had only a short run in the theater. Rent it or blu-ray it when you can.

—Dave Greiser, Baltimore, Maryland, is pastor of North Baltimore Mennonite Church.