Film Review | Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

The world of espionage is a hotbed of neuroses and unhappiness, so it’s a bit surprising – if understandable – that we think of it as a glamorous profession.

The brief is dark: you observe people, you live in secrecy and you trust nobody. The occupational hazards are pretty obvious. Yet, James Bond has been an appealing culture-hero across generations, and remains so to this day.

And while his most recent counterpart – Matt Damon-popularised Jason Bourne – has a gritty sheen, he also boasts admirable physical prowess, and we cheer him on with macho glee while he summarily dispatches an international array of baddies.

Alas, British author and former MI5/6 officer John le Carre has experienced the real thing first hand, and based on his myriad popular books, and their subsequent film and TV adaptations, it becomes clear that he has not emerged from the fray unscathed, though judging by his output, the damage is more likely to be psychological than physical.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is one of his most popular works, not least thanks to an enduring 1979 mini-series from the BBC starring Alec Guiness as George Smiley, a British intelligence operative nudged out of retirement to investigate allegations of a ‘mole’ (or double-agent) within the ranks of the British intelligence at the height of the Cold War.

Gary Oldman now takes on the role in this new adaptation from Swedish director Tomas Alfredson, who burst into the international scene two years ago with the teenage vampire drama Let the Right One In (not to be confused with its quick-to-follow Hollywood remake).

His take on le Carre is claustrophobic, perceptive and clever and, hitting the right notes of paranoia and repression, more-British-than-British, in its own way (perhaps an outsider’s view is always a plus).

You’d be excused for thinking that this is an exclusively Brittania-sponsored affair, however, as the film is a Harry Potter reunion’s worth of UK thesps (ready? Here we go: John Hurt, Colin Firth, Mark Strong, Ciarán Hinds, Benedict Cumberbatch, Tom Hardy, Toby Jones).
Beyond that, however, any expectation of gentility and good old fashioned Sherlockian sleuthing will be quietly blown to smithereens.

The plot is as tangled as you’d expect from the genre, but the atmosphere is slow and punishing. This might sound like a criticism but it’s in fact praise of the highest order: in opting against cheap, pacy thrills, Alfredson has created an atmosphere that will suck you in, keep you sucked in and haunt you long after you’ve left the cinema.

The camera is not terribly concerned with the ins-and-outs of Cold War era British-Soviet political intrigue – though the admirably compressed script by Bridget O’Connor and Peter Straughan may very well be – and instead, what we witness is a world of men greyed-out and numbed by a profession that requires them to remain vigilant at all times and, when the need or desire arises, trade in high-risk betrayal (and it’s unambiguously a world of men – female lovers and office flirts remain faceless).

One could write reams about Oldman’s performance as the unassumingly resilient hero of the piece, but as with anything worthwhile, it’s best left to speak for itself. Suffice it to say that in a film that’s all about being a fly-on-the-wall, he blends in so well that even adjusting his specs becomes a significant dramatic motion.

Flawless.