O Espião que Saiu do Frio

I had a relative who in the fringes of their job came into contact with people from the intelligence services.

They always said real spies were less James Bond and more Alec Leamas.

Middle aged, bitter, alone, likely to be divorced, drink too much, politically slightly left of centre.

John Le Carre's The Spy Who Came In from the Cold is noted for maybe showing the true face of spycraft.

On the fringes it has characters like George Smiley. As it goes on, the only person in control is Control. His talk to Leamas about the dirty things the spy services have to do. It is not small talk. It is the literal truth.

Alec Leamas (Richard Burton) messes up an operation in Berlin and is recalled to Britain.

He has been given a new assignment. Leamas has to pretend to have been thrown out by the security services.

It is a ruse for Leamas to come into the attention of British communists and East German intelligence. Be seen as a potential defector.

Leamas is meant to bring down an East German high ranking intelligence officer named Mundt. Leamas finds himself deep of a complex and messy espionage game.

American director Martin Ritt seems to be at ease with such complex material. He makes sure to include a pivotal scene where an important plot point is explained. So many times, espionage films want to leave it dense.

Ritt was left wing and a victim of the McCarthyite witch hunts. Maybe that explained why he was able to identify with an outsider like Leamas and the complex manoeuvrings of the intelligence agencies.

As for Burton, he was already halfway there as the self loathing alcoholic Leamas. The rest was courtesy of a good script and his acting ability.

Having just read LeCarré's first novel, 'Call for the Dead', I am now appreciating his third novel 'The Spy Who Came in From the Cold' even more. This film adaptation directed by Martin Ritt is a fine preamble to the masterful BBC series 'Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy' and 'Smiley's People'. One of the joys of LeCarré's novels is that many characters return again and again. Mundt, the "villain" in 'Spy...' first appears in 'Call..' and as usual LeCarré wraps up a few loose ends from the previous story.

This black and white film recreates the sullen atmosphere of cold war espionage in a way that color seems to diminish for some unexplainable reason. Those were black and white kinda times in my memory. Depressing, frightening and dour.

George Smiley makes a small appearance, albeit very important as a character in the plot line, and is nicely played by Rupert Davies, capturing the diffident and wry Smiley as effectively as Guinness did later on and Denholm Elliot even further on in the TV film 'A Murder of Quality'. Cyril Cusack's Control could easily be the younger version of Alexander Knox's masterful rendition in the Smiley TV shows. The continuity suggested in all of these films is very satisfying. It's a shame so many of the other versions of LeCarré's novels are so mediocre... ie 'The Little Drummer Girl' with a totally miscast Diane Keaton, and 'The Russia House', too Hollywood by half.

Richard Burton turns in just about the greatest performance of his life here. He is the embodiment of the disillusioned, bitter and down-trodden ego-maniac that seems to be the basic cocktail for a spy's personality, according to LeCarré.

I've seen this film many times but just recently spotted LeCarré himself (at least it certainly looks like him) as an extra in a short scene. As Leamas is making his roundabout way to Smiley's house at 9 Bywater Street, he is exiting the first of 2 taxis. As he does so a tall, lean man in black is walking towards him. Ritt seems to be focusing the camera on this "extra" actor who actually makes furtive glances at Leamas. It is later revealed that Leamas has been followed by the Communists. Could LeCarré be playing that non-speaking, uncredited part of the Eastern "watcher" trailing Leamas to Smiley's house? Wouldn't surprise me in the least. It's a part LeCarré would have enjoyed playing, I think.

And, like Hitchcock, LeCarré has appeared in film adaptations of his books before.

Claire Bloom is excellent as the naive English communist who hasn't got a clue as to what she's supporting. The end of this film is always shocking to me. The ruthlessness of the spy-masters, the lies, the back-stabbing.... There is nothing over-blown in this film. It's all very subtle and intriguing and with the passage of time just gets more and more fascinating.

Highly recommended to fans of this genre, especially LeCarré fanatics. If you haven't read his books you are missing out on perhaps the finest living writer of the English language. Some "experts" think his writing style is out of date because the plots are so involved and the prose so full of humor and political incorrectness; I read something to that effect in the most recent edition of the 'Halliwell' guide. Perhaps the editor of that book has A.D.D. or something, or perhaps he's just seen to many glitzy, empty flicks designed to entertain the gawping masses, I don't know. To me, LeCarré will never go out of style and it is to be hoped the film adaptations of his books will continue to be made. A few remakes wouldn't be out of order either.

The last reviewer wrote: Burton is cast as Alex Leamas, a nerve-dead, aged secret operative operating out of West Berlin. After a routine assignment goes awry, Leamas is sent home and out of the service. He struggles to try to live a normal, average life as a librarian's assistant, but he can't make it work for him (something that is not helped by his chronic alcoholism). This fact is made forcefully clear when he winds up beating a local grocer and is sentenced to jail time. Slowly but surely, he allows himself to be pulled back into the Cold War he operated in, not suspecting or maybe not even caring that his superiors are setting him up for a fall.

I think this is wrong. I believe the Burton character, Leamas, working with his UK spy agency, pretends to be kicked out of the spy service and acts as if he is going to seed so he can be "turned" by the enemy and complete his secret mission.

Regardless, it's a great film with a great performance by Burton as the world-weary spy who has seen it all, and Claire Bloom as the idealistic UK communist party member who has no idea how ugly it is out there.

The Spy Who Came In From the Cold stars Richard Burton as a world-weary, defeated, cynical and alcoholic ex-agent. It is the performance of his life. It is astonishing to think he was only 40 when he starred in it, as he looks so much older, perhaps from the five-pack-of-cigarettes and three bottles of hard liquor a day that was his habit then.

The movie is from the John Le Carre novel and is a hard-nosed look at the world of international espionage and double agents, as different from the Bond movies as night from day.

Stripped of glamour and endless sunshine, Martin Ritt, the director, uses black and white, rain and wind to enhance the story. One could say the cinematography is a character in itself.

There is no distinction here between the good guys and the bad guys. Spies are of themselves irredeemably evil men in the game for their own nefarious purposes, divorced from all that is decent and humane.

Burton's eyes constantly reflect this as he manages to infiltrate the East Communist Bloc and plays the game instigated by his "Control" in London.

Claire Bloom portrays his innocent young girlfriend, naive and pliable. Oskar Werner and Peter Van Eyck play the East Germans fighting for control of Burton's memoirs and each other.

It is hard to be believe that Burton lost his Oscar to Lee Marvin (in Cat Ballou!!) when he so richly deserved it for his once in a lifetime performance in "The Spy--" Cyril Cusack has a wonderful supporting role as "Control" and just about steals his two scenes from Burton. He never disappoints.

I loved this film in the theatre when it was released and subsequent viewings never fail to enthrall me.

8 out of 10.

Back during the Cold War, people actually bought into the bleak misery that was brinkmanship & actors actually took chances, & their agents let them.

Richard Burton is Alec Laemmas, John Le Carre's reluctant spy, whose disillusionment is turned against him to save one last informant: hard to believe that Mr. Burton was then still in the throes of his public romance with Liz Taylor. Grim's the word here: from the opening Checkpoint Charlie Berlin scene to the Dutch shores to the East German countryside--the Cold War's done nobody any favors. Moreover, this harsh treatment of spies & their back-stabbing, double-dealing ways was made just after Ian Fleming's suave James Bond had become a pop movie icon (Bond's "M," Bernard Lee, as a grocer here ["T'get a proper credit, y'need a banker's reference."], gets the crap pummeled outta him by Burton).

Anyway, "Spy" is movie stripped of glamor: everyone gets usurped by people with power. Burton's Laemmas is sent to salvage the good guys' chief informant, a senior GDR official; Claire Bloom's Commie idealist Nancy is called to East Germany under the ruse of cultural exchange, to aid in the hoax. Oscar Werner is mesmerizing ("Were you present for ziss...Sanksgiving?") as the no. 2 man in the Abteilung, on the trail of no. 1, Peter van Eyck, until Laemmas shows up to thwart his plans.

If old cold warriors were only half as conniving as they appear here, whither did they go after the fall of the Soviet Union? Something to which nobody with nanogram of sense has paid much attention.