A Spy and a King: The Mole Agent
Maite Alberdi’s The Mole Agent contains a spy, a thief, a private eye, and a king. This odd mix of genre staples portends intrigue, conflict, and excitement. In the end most of these are eschewed, or at least they fade into the background; but the film becomes more touching and affectionate than such signs could ever foretell.
The spy is Sergio Chamy, an elderly man responding to a curious advertisement for a job requiring a man between the ages of eighty and ninety. Rare is such an opportunity, as we hear Sergio and the other applicants express. Typically their age makes them a liability, if not an outright exclusion. This rare job offers the hopeful octogenarians a chance to act with agency and dignity in a society that affords them little of either.
The private eye is the one hiring Sergio. He’s been hired by a woman to investigate claims that her mother, residing in a nursing home, is being robbed and abused by the staff. The detective can’t reasonably show up and ask “Have you stolen any money or jewelry from this elderly woman?” so he needs to find someone to infiltrate the facility—to be his mole agent.
Initially, the film leans into the genre conceit. Camera angles and views through blinds heighten the mood, and a playful score briefly breaks in on occasion. The documentary crew is also filming at the nursing home, pretending to be there to showcase the facility, but they are truly focused on Sergio. There are layers of pretending at play—is the crew simply filming or spying on the residents? Maybe both.
Sergio eagerly takes the assignment, learning to use the gadgetry that his new boss provides him with—a secret camera pen, glasses that double as a video recorder, and FaceTime. He enters the facility as a new resident and begins talking with the women there. Initially, the focus is on his mission, and he hunts down the woman in question, but she hardly wants to speak with him.
Instead, he fills his days simply existing as a resident, making friends, learning people’s stories, inadvertently seducing one of the other residents, and being elected king of the nursing home. There’s a lot to do, but he still has his job to think of, so he also records daily reports. Through these, Sergio doubles as our narrator, adding an atmosphere of casework as many noir films have done in the past. But the narration gradually shifts from reporting to interpretation, as he offers his thoughts on the investigator’s endeavors, the nursing home community, and a way to envision a better system of elderly care.
As his time at the nursing home goes on, Sergio gradually lets the layers of pretend slip away and becomes increasingly himself, caring for the women in the nursing home. He listens to their stories with real interest, bears the pains of their grief, of their abandonment, of their dwindling capacities. He does a better job than he’s ever asked to. He’s specifically concerned that these elderly men and women seem to be intentionally forgotten, and he concludes that investigation is no substitute for care—the daughter who is apparently so worried about her mother’s wellbeing doesn’t even take the time to visit.
The Mole Agent is not as exciting as its premise would appear, but it does hint at real societal shortcomings. Alberdi, by turning the camera on the lives in the nursing home, captures what is otherwise ignored. Celebrations, deaths, romances, and intrigue all occur in this forgotten place. There is real life being lived by people who deserve to be seen as valuable.
The film is sincere and often heartwarming, though not groundbreaking. It certainly can be categorized with other documentaries that lucked out by (or were built around) centering on the right subject. Sergio is undoubtedly the heart and energy of The Mole Agent. Its success is his vibrancy; its power is his compassion.
