HOPSCOTCH nimbly jumps over the square that most espionage comedies occupy. Going back to the patriotic 1940’s, there have been dozens of spy larks making light of shadowy deeds. Thanks to 007, teasing ‘intelligence’ spiked in the giddy mid-60’s. Then laffs grew scarcer in the jaded 70’s: that damned war and ol’ Tricky Dick. The more recent recruits nostalgically kid the 60’s crew, send-ups of send-ups. From the topical snarks of Bob Hope on, many spy spoofs have been fun, and most tapped the silly key. A few weren’t just amusing but smart, and this entry from 1980 is one of the best in that select set, keeping cleverness company with enough plausibility so plot and playing don’t descend into simple knockabout farce. Only the finale cheats into the ‘Hey, wait a minute” zone, but not enough to spoil the vibe.

On an operation in Munich, veteran CIA field agent ‘Miles Kendig’ (Walter Matthau) makes the smart call to not nab his Soviet counterpart, a move that would betray a mutually respectful relationship, and serve to make further infiltration/access to ‘the other side’ more difficult. As a result he’s foolishly demoted by his arrogant department chief. Fed up with the whole rotten game, Miles shreds his files and skips to Austria to meet his former lover ‘Isobel von Schönenberg’ (Glenda Jackson), herself a retired spy. He then decides to go one further and upend the Agency’s history of dirty tricks by publishing his memoirs, tormenting not just the Americans, but other countries espionage activities. Miles repeatedly outwits his pursuers, but it’s only a matter of time until they get him.

Matthau pairs up again with Jackson after their 1978 comedy score House Calls. She’s fine, though the part doesn’t offer her much to do: the role of Miles dominates the story and Matthau is in ace form, a wry sort of relaxed alertness. Ned Beatty blusters as required in the part of the S.O.B. supervisor ‘G.P. Myerson’. Sam Waterston is all right as ‘Joe Cutter’, who learned the ropes from Miles, likes him and is best equipped to find him. Herbert Lom adds an elegant pinch of low-key ‘foreign intrigue’ as the bemused Russian agent ‘Mikhail Yaskov’.

The screenplay from Bryan Forbes and Brian Garfield adapted Garfield’s dark-edged novel to fit Matthau’s droll comic persona. It’s a shrewd blend: mature romance with a dash of earned cynicism, it was contemporary in ’80 (primed by the results of the Church Committee hearings that exposed some of the CIA’s shenanigans) and its sense of adventure holds up, while managing to yank establishment chains without smearing those who were in sincere service. A little insider name-dropping has characters named after thriller writers Follett, Ludlum and  Westlake.

Smoothly paced by director Ronald Neame, the engaging chase was shot in England (London), France (Marseilles), Bermuda, the US (D.C. and Georgia), West Germany (Munich) and Austria (Salzburg). The locations are not merely scenic, but are augmented by fastidious art direction and keenly selected props. The score (arranged by Ian Fraser) is mostly classical music, predominately Mozart. And the only violence is some non-lethal property destruction.

“An American without ice in his drink is unthinkable, if not unconstitutional!”

Reviews were positive and in placing 43rd domestically with a gross of $17,400,000, the production tab of $9,500,000 was put to bed. Later came $933,000 in disc sales. With David Matthau (the star’s son and…er…not very good), Severn Darden, Lucy Saroyan (Matthau’s stepdaughter, the child of author William Saroyan), George Baker and Allan Cuthberson. 104 minutes.