Black Bag is the kind of deliriously fun, sexy, and smooth film people say doesn't get made anymore. At 90 minutes, it is exactly as long as it needs to be. There isn't a single false note or extraneous scene. It doesn't make a lick of sense if you think about it, but this horny take on Agatha Christie tropes is so much fun, I found myself not caring one bit.

Michael Fassbender and Cate Blanchett play a laconic power couple who even their friends can't read. They're people who play their cards so close to the chest that any attempt to see them leads to fucking. One day, Fassbender receives word that there's a mole in their undefined spy agency. Something called Severus is at stake, and who knows what that is, but it's clearly bad. To flush out the rat, Fassbender calls for a dinner with friends and colleagues, all who happen to be suspects, and stirs the pot just enough to make waves.

That what, how, why, and who barely matter. If I drew a line between the culprit and the reason it would be everything but straight. But that isn't the point. As with classic spy thrillers like Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, Black Bag thrives on the minutiae that we can't make heads or tails of. The dialog is a load of nonsense about satellite handovers, black bags, and clenching sphincters during lie detector tests(!). It's all so outlandish that you could question whether or not it's meant to be a satire.

But combine these elements with a seductively smooth soundtrack by David Holmes, Steven Soderbergh's classy directing (and cinematography and editing), and the effortless charm of Fassbender and Blanchett, and it doesn't matter. This is fun. It's like watching an experienced band play to their strengths. None of it is new, but the craftsmanship is incomparable. You want more by the end of it.

It helps that Soderbergh and writer David Koepp add an element of marital intrigue to the proceedings. When a character asks Fassbender how does a marriage work in an industry built on lying, his answer is as unclear as it is revealing. It comes as he's spying on his wife via a hijacked satellite, and he justifies his actions as protection. "I do it for her, she does it for me, and that's how this works."

Blanchett and Fassbender are at their peak star power. They effortlessly toy with our expectations and there's a joyous uncertainty in guessing who is playing who. A part of me wishes there would be a dozen films like this, where the duo could just outsmart people left and right, but a part of the charm is how singular this story is. Once it's over, it's over, and if we want more we'll just have to watch it again.

Luckily, Soderbergh has crafted a film so lean and succulent that it begs for repeat viewings. This is the kind of thriller you can pick up and watch at any time and you won't even notice the time. Just like they used to make them.