I’m not sure you’ll ever meet a movie character more inappropriately named than George Smiley. Does Gary Oldman smile in this movie even once? I don’t think he does.
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is the kind of movie you talk about for days afterwards. Not because it was a superlative film, but instead to try and figure out what you just saw. Bring a friend to this one. It’s like AA: you can’t go through it alone.
It’s the Cold War. 1973 and “Control” (John Hurt), head of British Intelligence, in the wake of a disastrous mission in Budapest, has discovered a mole at the highest level of his office. He puts George Smiley on the case. And then director Tomas Alfredson bitch-slaps every spy movie ever made. Recognizing that spying is about intelligence, Alfredson loses everything but. There aren’t cool cars, sultry vixens, hi-tech gizmos, pithy catch-phrases, gun battles, fist fights or ridiculously handsome agents charming their way into the Queen’s pants. Yup, no guys with uzis skiing down bobsled chutes, sledding cello cases down the Alps, or battling triton wielding midgets. Enough. Sorry.
“What is there instead?” You ask. This is real espionage – phone records, libraries, obscure contacts and thinking. Lots of thinking. Not sure I’ve seen a film in which the players quietly contemplate with such regularity. You won’t believe me when I tell you it’s not dull. There are time sequence issues. There are hidden clues. There are cleverly worded conversations. There are brutal murders in which the opponent is unarmed. And there is Gary Oldman sitting in quiet contemplation. You’d think he was working in his memoirs, not attempting to discover which of his colleagues is a traitorous rat bastard.
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is tense in the way spy movies ought to be tense. In research rooms. On public streets. When a character is alone. Spies, apparently, only hang out with spies … so there’s low grade tension in the most mundane of actions. Will George be attacked swimming? Eating lunch? At the Christmas party?
Our cast of would-be rodents is a fun one. The whodunit list includes Toby Jones, the slimy footman from Ever After, Colin Firth, the alpha male of civil romance, John Hurt, last seen hamming it up in the worthless fourth of the Indiana Jones trilogy, Mark Strong, the heavy who does not Kick Ass, Ciarán Hinds, who is still repaying The Debt, David Dencik of two Dragon Tattoos and no publicity, and Tom Hardy, who remains far from the madding crowd. One of these men is a mole … and if you can figure out how, please tell me; I’m still in discussion mode.
D: Tomas Alfredson
W: Bridget O’Connor, Peter Straughan
Genre: Pensive
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: Cold War holdovers
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: Children
