The Informant!

It's not the acts of espionage in "The Informant!" that are funny, but the bland, unromantic places in which they occur. When you see "Springfield, IL" pop up urgently in bold, demanding letters across the screen, your first instinct is to laugh. In that sense, director Steven Soderbergh has succeeded. His goal is to deromanticize the corporate thriller genre with a comic spirit, revealing how bureaucratic and "uncool" (for lack of a better term) the business of spying can be. He aims to show you that corporate corruption and espionage are very real and occuring all around you, not only in the exotic locales of James Bond films, but in shabby offices across your city.

Matt Damon, in a career-high performance, stars as Mark Whitacre, the real-life whistleblower behind ADM's lysine price-fixing scandal of the 90s. In the film, Whitacre is a bit of a child: wide-eyed, extremely sensitive, self-absorbed. However, Damon and Soderbergh do not simply mock him. They give him virtually the same treatment Oliver Stone gave George W. Bush in his biopic, "W." That is, they only gently poke fun, showing genuine affection for him beneath their humorous jabs. In their hands, Whitacre is never unlikable. This is due in large part to the endearing innocence Damon brings to the character. Late in the film, when FBI agent Brian Shepard (Scott Bakula) asks Whitacre why he keeps lying, you truly believe Damon when he simply, sadly says in his mind, "I don't know."It's an intimate, poignant moment. This is not a throwaway comedy like some critics are calling it. There is truth and raw emotion behind the humor.

Many other scenes of this film are still swimming around in my head. I'm still in awe of the acting as well. Not only from Damon, but Bakula, Joel McHale, Tom Papa, and Tony Hale to name a few. The casting is simply perfect. Everyone fits their role so naturally and convincingly. I couldn't imagine any other actors playing these parts.

This film is not Oscar bait. It's not a searing legal thriller in the vein of "Michael Clayton" or "The Insider." It's not a slick depiction of sharks in suits. That's why I love it, though.