Best Reels: Canadian Cuts | "The Silent Partner" is a Canadian Christmas Classic
The oft snow-covered Canada has no shortage of tales set during the most wonderful time of the year—Claude Jutra’s Mon oncle Antoine (1971) and Bob Clark’s Black Christmas (1974) among them—but if just one appears on your radar this season, let it be Daryl Duke’s little-seen crime thriller The Silent Partner (1978). Recently unearthed by Kino Lorber for special edition Blu-Ray treatment, and by the Criterion Channel for streaming, The Silent Partner is a remarkably overlooked achievement, especially considering its star power and its embrace of an internationally popular genre. The film did well financially when it was released in Canada, but went relatively unacknowledged elsewhere. Roger Ebert called it “worthy of Hitchcock” in his review upon the film’s release in the States, but admitted to not having known where it came from at the time.
Like other films of its ilk, it seems this affliction was an unavoidable result of the film’s origin. Gayle MacDonald, writing for The Globe and Mail, called The Silent Partner “one of the few truly good films to come out of the tax-shelter heyday of the 1970s,” referring to the prosperous period when inciting tax incentives were made available for filmmakers working within the Canadian border. The period meant a boom in commercial genre filmmaking, a chance for up-and-coming Canadian filmmakers to cut their teeth in the industry, and a unique loophole into big paydays for American studios that were willing to work up north. The Silent Partner represents opportunism on all these fronts—lightning in a bottle, if you will—but that also meant it was a film that was poorly promoted, everyone involved with it having made their money prior to the film’s release thanks to the aforementioned tax incentives. As Roger Ebert put it, the film was made and then “tossed to the wolves.” It was neglected. The simple fact that it had been completed seemed to tide everyone over. Today, of course, we’re too stubborn to ever let sleeping dogs lie.
The Silent Partner finds its story in Miles Cullen (Elliott Gould), a sheepish, lovelorn, and mildly fish-obsessed banker working in Toronto’s Eaton Centre who manages to anticipate a robbery at his branch and exploit the situation by stashing away $48,300 for himself, then claiming that the Santa suit-wearing robber (Christopher Plummer) made off with his whole till. Plummer’s psychopathic Harry Reikle catches on to the slight when the crime hits the news, and he begins a relentless pursuit of Miles in order to retrieve his full score. But beneath Miles’ meek exterior is an unexpected wealth of cunning and a knack for improvisation under pressure. What ensues between the two is a cat-and-mouse-style war of wits, intimidation and extortion. In another sense—and as Harry notes—it is also a “partnership,” as both men must maneuver to keep what is essentially the same caper under a tightly wrapped bow of deception. Susannah York and Celine Lomez play Julie and Elaine, respectively, the orbiting love interests in Miles’ life that become caught up in the Fargo-like series of escalating incidences.
Helmed by anyone else, this film could have quickly become the B movie that its posters—which featured a gun-brandishing Father Christmas—seem to promise. Fortunately, Canadian director Daryl Duke (known previously for his TV work and the 1973 film Payday) is able to elevate this schlocky Santa fare into a gripping, humanistic, and well-developed thriller. The script, adapted from a Danish novel, is by future L.A. Confidential director, Curtis Hanson, a man who understands how to keep plot threads tightly woven and character actions clearly motivated. Each element at play slots so neatly into place with this film, even if the element is hokey and even if it is introduced for trivial reasons (see: a young John Candy’s role as a side character who marries a promiscuous coworker at the bank). At the same time, so little of what takes place you could ever call predictable, and jarring shifts in tone work to a satisfying agree more often than not, especially if you’ve grown tired of the usual cookie-cutter heist films. If this film has an Achilles heel, it is the female characters, which aren’t really developed beyond their relationships with the men and, in true B movie fashion, are written so their chests are exposed as soon as possible. There is an underlying level of sleaze in this film, and that can be chalked up to the time when this film was made, but also an exploitation factor they maybe felt was necessary for giving Canadian cinema an “edge.”
A large part of that edge is owed to the film’s consistent horniness. This works to the film’s detriment when being espoused by Miles’ leering male co-workers, who can’t seem to let any woman walk by without making disgusting remarks, but finds a better footing as we chart Miles’ increasing libido against the increasing peril in the plot. The link between sex and danger has been drawn many times before, and it is evident in both Miles and his foil, Harry, although Harry takes it much further. Harry is a brutal sadist—as evidenced in an early scene when he viciously attacks a sex worker in a sauna—and his erratic behaviour contrasts effectively with Miles’ more methodical, well-natured approaches. Of course, the two men aren’t so different in the end – they both go to great lengths of deception, and they both do it all for want of gelt. Film critic Jason Gilmore went so far as to say this suggests a meta-commentary on Canada-US relations, Miles’ polite “Canadian-ness” only covering up the fact that he is just as capable of the crimes perpetrated as his evil other.
But let’s talk about Christmas, because while this is not a Christmas film through-and-through, it is set in motion by the jolly fat man himself, and it is spurned forth from the frenzied consumerism that defines the season. Like other darker, more sardonic Christmas tales, The Silent Partner uncovers the spirit of taking that festers within the spirit of giving. Harry begins the film disguised as a mall Santa who asks that people “give, give, give to those less fortunate,” but later turns out to be a complete monster capable of great malice on the path to self gain. Miles is honourable enough, but his aim still involves defrauding a bank, and the choices he makes get murkier as the film goes along. And yet, it is Miles who we knowingly put our support behind, if for no other reason than to see someone come out of the holidays in tact. Miles has a chessboard in his apartment that we are shown constantly, and in one scene, he tails Harry on the subway while hiding himself behind a book on chess strategies. This is all purposeful: he is a player in a game. He is caught up in the scramble of this capitalist season and he’s trying to not let it swallow him whole, just like we are. The conceit here is that maybe all of our rushing around and our spending, like Miles’ desperation, comes with other strings attached.
The Silent Partner is available to stream now on the Criterion Channel, and can be purchased on Blu-Ray and DVD via Kino Lorber.