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Just to be clear, beating up the grocer was part of the setup- he wanted to go to jail, so that it would be public knowledge that he, someone whom the Soviets knew had been an agent, was down and out and potentially ripe for getting picked up as a turncoat. Although I'm not clear on the degree to which Claire Bloom's character's role was something specifically planned out in advance or just a fortuitous happenstance that Control and Smiley took advantage of- my guess would be the former, since I imagine there can't have been all that many desperately lonely part time Communist women in positions where Lemas could plausibly get hired to work alongside them around.

matrixschmatrix wrote:Just to be clear, beating up the grocer was part of the setup- he wanted to go to jail, so that it would be public knowledge that he, someone whom the Soviets knew had been an agent, was down and out and potentially ripe for getting picked up as a turncoat.

True, but the poor grocer wasn't in on it. Where's the requisite (Hollywood) scene of Control or someone visiting his hospital room with a wad of doe? The set-up really doesn't eliminate the scene's perversity - if it was clearly a set-up-up the scene would almost be farcical.

You may be looking at the film from hindsight but that shouldn't diminish the narrative's unfoldment, should it?

Oh, I see what you're saying. Yeah, that's an early indication- along with Control's speech- that these guys are in the game for the game's sake, not to do right by anybody on either side. It would be a security leak to give the guy any indication that what happened wasn't exactly what it appeared to be, so no such indication is given. I think as far as Lemas's motivation goes, though, it's as simple as that he saw an opening and he took it- the less planned out, the more realistic it looks.

Ironically, the plot they lay requires that the Eastern intelligence people believe that they are willing to risk security for personal reasons- that they would genuinely buy out Clair Bloom's character's lease as a favor to Lemas in a highly traceable way. The West's victory trades on not only behaving brutally but on having some kind of a reputation for doing otherwise.

But it's hardly a victory for The West or East when casualties continue to mount on both sides, regardless of reputation or potency of either state, which is the moral point (what little there is) of the film. For me plot, as a general rule, is secondary to the relationships established in any film. And frankly, once Burton is on the other side and Fiedler comes on the scene the web of deceptions grow tiresome and the film looses much of its initial tension and doesn't return until Nan (Claire Bloom) joins Leamus (Burton) at the tribunal.

In fact, the scenes between Fiedler and Leamus, which I imagine are supposed to elicit a kind of compassion for Fiedler, fall flat and after he's taken into custody we never see him again. They're the oddest passages in the film because they don't move the narrative forward very much and they're not well developed so "the sacrifice of the Jew" is grafted on as part of the film's moral comment at the end. Seems a shabby construction but perhaps this is all beyond the confines of what is basically a genre film.

Well, I can't say I agree with you there- I found Fiedler a very sympathetic character (despite his stated willingness to see innocents killed in the line of his work) and found his discussions with Leamus as involving as anything else in the movie. I also disagree that the moral point is that neither side wins- the West achieves its goals at the expense of people who are all expendable to the cause of Western intelligence, which means that information keeps flowing with no loss. The point is that that victory is an evil and nasty thing, and that a victory for Western intelligence is not a victory worth having by any other metric. I think Leamus's speech about how little spies care about morality in the course of their duty is a vital element of the film- a reminder that these people aren't really doing all this out of a sense of brutal end justifying vital ideological means, they're doing it because it's what they do.

I suppose that this isn't really a movie that's as rewarding if you're uninterested in the plot, because part of the point is that the characterizations and relationships are all driven by the necessities of the plot within the movie. Nearly everyone except Claire Bloom and Oskar Werner are acting in bad faith throughout, because that's what espionage is, and to me understanding the logic behind the conspiracies is vital to understanding why people behave as they do and feel as they do.

But understanding the logic behind the conspiracies is only a small part of the pleasure derived from watching a film such as Spy. They must always be placed against the relationships established in spite of the atmosphere; otherwise, where's the dramatic tension outside of the operations?

The point is that that victory is an evil and nasty thing, and that a victory for Western intelligence is not a victory worth having by any other metric.

Isn't this a given in espionage films (the brutality/nastiness/etc.)? I would think that what distinguishes one film of this type from another is the extent to which operations are sabotaged (or nearly sabotaged) by some human characteristic and not necessarily the value of operations against the cost to humanity (or the beneficiaries of said intelligence).

Back to the film, proper:

The first Control scene is curious and telling for several reasons. Why is it, for instance, that Control's lines are delivered in the form of an alternated live track and voice-over (not sure if it's addressed in the special features audio track)? It's a fairly conspicuous effect. Is it to simulate a kind of enforced intimacy or candidness on the part of Control? The slow pan into his office where Control is preparing tea with a rather homely (for a secret intelligence office) service set; his low keyed welcome of Leamus and the small talk seem intended to ingratiate the audience with this smooth deceptor. Alone, Control is framed against windows with transparent curtains which reveal nearby windows, also sparely adorned. Outside of their initial handshake, when Control is in the frame with Leamus his figure remains in the foreground, towering over the operative. Leamus, on the other hand, is framed to look like a deer in headlights. At one point the light from the windows places Leamus' shadow directly against the closed door. It's a marvelous effect and a well crafted scene, in general, foregrounding beautifully the upper hand Control will maintain over Leamus. It's as if the scene answers the question Leamus poses the to the personnel agent/ driver about his own fate in the scene which directly preceeds it.

The film doesn't seem to maintain this casual rigor - or perhaps the framing isn't as effectively employed, I can't decide which...

Incidentally, matrixschmatrix, the second meeting with Control reveals that Leamus' altercation with the grocer was not planned as a part of the set- up though Control subsequently uses it to complete the picture of Leamus as a disgruntled agent to lure The Soviets. It brings me back to the impression of the unknowable Leamus and the distance he maintains from the audience despite his imtimacy with Nan.

I wasn't intending on participating this round, but Netflix came through with a blu-ray no less and I escaped short wait purgatory. This film was far less aggressive than I'd anticipated, and while watching, I felt the pacing dragged a bit at times. But with hindsight, I can see how well the slow pacing and bleakness aided the movie. I'm sure if I re-watched it it would click much sooner.

The film's atmosphere is expertly set early on, no doubt. I particularly enjoyed the cramped quarters. From the place where our protagonist applies for a job, to the library job, to the room upstairs when he's defected, to the courtroom, the rooms seem cramped and shot really shallow. The way the film's shot, early on, also seems to give the viewer the presence of an onlooker. We see the biker approaching behind a guarded gate before the camera picks up. It's as if we are in the rooms, behind the scenes, eavesdropping a bit.

I particularly liked the effect of going down the sort-of spy rabbit hole. Alec is recruited and the one who picks him up is dismissed. Then that person is dismissed. Then that person is dismissed. Again and again. And this helps point, to me, at what the film does so well. Rather than turn into a regular espionage thriller, where the plan is hatched, we are subject to the mundane, routine work that seems to genuinely depress Alec. It's why his anger when confronted by Nan on their car ride back to West Germany is so well done. Whether or not Alec was in on the plot from the beginning isn't really the point to me. It's that the danger and lack of respect he seems resentful of is real. It's why the ending works, for me. He really did care about Nan, and her death was clearly part of the plan too. She was even more of a pawn than he realized

Rather than turn into a regular espionage thriller, where the plan is hatched, we are subject to the mundane, routine work that seems to genuinely depress Alec.

Yes, that touch is good. Also, the agent relay comes on the tail end of one of the most uninspired burlesque acts I've ever seen on film.

But I think Leamus is beyond merely depressed. In the first Control scene the weight of sorrow effects his entire musculature. His crestfallen demeanor rivals any first act Hamlet. He knows a mortal mission is upon him and by the time we get to the grocer beat down you know this guy is a goner.

ando wrote:Incidentally, matrixschmatrix, the second meeting with Control reveals that Leamus' altercation with the grocer was not planned as a part of the set- up though Control subsequently uses it to complete the picture of Leamus as a disgruntled agent to lure The Soviets. It brings me back to the impression of the unknowable Leamus and the distance he maintains from the audience despite his imtimacy with Nan.

Doesn't he say something like that it was masterfully done? I took that as meaning that they told Leamus general instructions and Leamus figured out how best to make it happen, not that Control specifically told him to beat up a grocer.

Whether or not Alec was in on the plot from the beginning isn't really the point to me. It's that the danger and lack of respect he seems resentful of is real. It's why the ending works, for me. He really did care about Nan, and her death was clearly part of the plan too. She was even more of a pawn than he realized

I think it's pretty clear that Control didn't let Leamus in on the majority of the plan- Leamus genuinely thought he was helping Fieldler take out a Nazi, up until the plot is sprung. To me, that's important to his characterization.

I do think it's ambiguous whether Control explicitly gave the order take out Nan, though.

matrixschmatrix wrote:Doesn't he say something like that it was masterfully done? I took that as meaning that they told Leamus general instructions and Leamus figured out how best to make it happen, not that Control specifically told him to beat up the grocer.

No. In fact, Control upbraids him on it, mumbling something about distorting the portarait he (Control) wanted to paint of a down and out agent as opposed to a lunatic drunk.

But, of course you're right about Control not divulging the entire scope of the operation, particularly the scrifice of Nan.

I wanted you to build up a portrait of a man whom in action and embitterment is driven to drink; but not yet to actual treachery. Don't err... change the point of my brush stroke, Alec. Just continue to be embittered. Continue to drink. Drink; but never be too drunk to think.

It's one thing to be embittered. It's quite another to repeatedly bully someone to the point of violence. My point is that Leamus is dealing with emotional issues that go beyond what Control requires. And what Burton illustrates through his non-verbal behavior is half of his great performance.

Yeah, I agree that Burton's portrayal is of a man who is genuinely an embittered alcoholic while he pretends to be embittered alcoholic. I still don't see in what way his beating of the grocer doesn't make perfect sense in the context of the mission he's given, nor any sign that he is chastised for being out of line.

Perfect sense to pulverize an unarmed man to the point of unconsciousness? In a bar a character might get away with being embittered, but a grocery store? So you disagree with Control that Leamus went over the line (and he clearly went over the line)? My contention, again, is that his exteme emotional state fueled his attack, not simply Control's instructions. And Burton's brilliant illustration of Leamus emotional state goes way beyond what we get from the usual lead performance in espionage thrillers.

I disagree that Control believes that he went over the line. As I quoted, Control (I think it might actually be Smiley in that scene) tells him that his attack on the grocer was masterful, and then warns him to make sure he doesn't go too deeply into character to be an effective agent in the future. I don't think the Circus gives a good god damn about the grocer, and they god the results they wanted, so in what way would Leamus be crossing a line, from their perspective?

Again, I'm not disagreeing that Burton's performance gives the attack a dimension beyond 'someone acting on orders'- Burton's character is, perversely, a spy acting in good faith, being more or less emotionally honest all the time. That absolutely is a fascinating characterization.

matrixschmatrix wrote:... so in what way would Leamus be crossing a line, from their perspective?

For the last time - Control (not Smiley) gives Leamus a mild admonishment about the extremes to which Leamus created the picture of a disgruntled agent, expressing that he wanted to avoid deeds of "actual trachery", but merely to suggest that Leamus'disillusionment would make him appear available for Eastern agents to recruit him. From the first scene with the grocer it's clear that Leamus has already established a relationship with the grocer and has been an unreliable credit customer. The only reason the grocer extended the credit was because Leamus told him that he had a new job. It was on the subsequent visit, the day Leamus promised to pay and wouldn't, that he physically attacked the grocer and was subsequently imprisoned. But Leamus hardly need to resort to incarceration to lure Eastern agents, which was what Control was conveying in the first scene. Watch it again. If you don't agree, fine. But then what was the point of the painter analogy Control illustrates for Leamus (I know they don't give two hoots for the grocer)?

The treachery line was about how Leamus was to sell himself- as someone who was disillusioned but not yet actually a double agent, merely ripe for the picking. Yes, Leamus had a pre-existing relationship with the grocer. That is what made attacking the grocer a smart, in-character way to depict the portrait of a man who was losing touch, get himself put in prison, and get that in the paper. It is when he is coming out of prison that he is picked up by the other side. I don't at all agree that Leamus did not need to resort to incarceration, and he is in fact congratulated on the job he did in getting himself imprisoned. I don't really know why this is a point of disagreement, he is specifically told his actions were 'masterful'. Everything beyond that is advice for continuing the charade, not criticism on the job done so far.

You in fact misquoted the movie in your previous reference- he says "Don't change the portrait by a brushstroke, Alec.", not "Don't err... change the point of my brush stroke, Alec." In other words, Control thinks Alec is acquitting himself perfectly, but is worried that he might in the future lose himself totally in his character.

No, the treachery line was about Leamus not performing actual acts of treachery as it would alter the portrait Control wanted to paint of a disillusioned intelligence agent who drank but who kept his wits.

The difference between Don't change the portrait by a brushstroke and Don't err... change the point of my stroke is miniscule. And it doesn't change the fact that Control is giving Leamus a corrective for his recent performance.

Why can't you see Leamus as an agent who, in a moment of passion, simply lost control? He's an absolute emotional wreck at the start of the film. (One of the film's ironies is that Nan, who comes to his emotional rescue, hastens his end!) If I bought your argument about Leamus planning the entire debacle, including the vicious attack he would seem downright cruel. But he doesn't demonstrate this elsewhere in the movie. He's sardonic, even mean, but deliberately cruel? I don't see Nan falling for a character like that - and so quickly. Really, we'll never know the extent to which Leamus wanted to exhibit the disillusioned agent and it's probably best left as ambiguous because Leamus is, in fact, greatly disillusioned.

matrixschmatrix wrote:I do think it's ambiguous whether Control explicitly gave the order take out Nan, though.

At the risk of turning this thread into "Let's All Argue with Matrix Week", I thought it was pretty certain that Control gave the order- the driver/shooter provided Leamus with instructions to climb up first and then help Nan up, and then waited for Leamus to get to the top of the wall before firing. Why would the East be interested in silencing Nan but willing to let Leamus go? This scene represents a very clear decision for Leamus- jump over the wall and continue working for Control (turning a blind eye to the fact that they are quite willing to sacrifice relatively good people like Nan, Fiedler, and Remich to save a Nazi murderer) or stay behind and get shot as an unknown martyr. If it were the Soviets who had killed Nan, this decision wouldn't be as poignant, though I suppose Leamus would still have cause to be angry at Control for dragging her into the plot in the first place. I also wonder if one could read further into the fact that rather than remain on the wall between the East and the West, Leamus chose to climb back down to the East to die.

(Incidentally, I do agree with you on Leamus' assault on the grocer, Matrix)

I assume Nan's death was explicitly the design of Mundt, who as we know is cold-blooded when it comes to his preservation (among other things) and who obviously planned all the details of the escape, and was implicitly approved of by Control. I get the impression that Control is not in the business of ordering the execution of its own citizens (evens those it uses as pawns), but they have no compunction about letting someone else do that for them if it does turn out to be convenient for them in the long run. Control hires out its brutality.

Yeah, Sausage is correct about what I saw as the ambiguity- there's no question that the order is coming from someone involved in the West's conspiracy, but it's unclear whether killing Nan was Mundt's addition or specifically cleared with Control. I agree too that it's probably something Control did not explicitly order but which nobody on their side was particularly surprised by- certainly Smiley didn't seem particularly shocked from the other side of the wall, and one imagines he could have pieced together what was going on.

While this will shed no light on the narrative, per se, this le Carré interview (recorded around '65) provides some period context.

In later interviews le Carré spoke of his admiration for the way the passing of Leamus from agent to agent is handled in the film. I wonder what he felt about the use of location serving as a background for the discussions with the various agents; particularly with Peters (on the beach) and Fiedler (in the hills). As I alluded to earlier these sequences almost seem to belong to a different film. The use of camera lenses and shooting styles are quite different from what we get in the first part of the film. I'm not sure how they serve the narrative. In fact, unlike the scenes in and around the city which Leamus is able to navigate effectively (though we never see anyone tail him), the open spaces of the East locations seem mostly to isolate and stymie his movement. The locations are not used as much as they're hung as a sort of backdrop for the talking head scenes. The physical passages are vague, curious, up until we get to the tribunal scene, in which location is absolutely integral to the narrative.

To my mind the best cinematic use of these outdoor/East agent sequences is the scene between Leamus and Fiedler in (what appears to be) the alps: In the first still Leamus (on the right) "confides" to Fielder (left) that he's a technician and "just a technician".



In the second still, a few seconds later, Fiedler asks Leamus if he may be a Communist technician.



Fiedler, on the left, extends his "comraderie" to Leamus, on the right. He pulls on his hat as if in deference to Leamus and crosses over (the cinematic frame and, in the narrative, personal and national antipathy) to offer friendship. It's, of course, an ironic move as it's Leamus who is posing as the traitor. In any event, this use of the terrain in the development of the narrative, however stagey, is effective. Unfortunately, it's the only instance I can illustrate of the later outdoor scenes that really works.

Later, an indoor still; Leamus is dressing after "getting in bed" with The Communist(s).



Picture says it all. In color, this would not be nearly as effective but the contrast of black, white and gray (what's black, what's white or gray) is used to marvelous effect.

Nice contrast to an earlier Control scene shot:



There are comparable moments where the storytelling is as effective visually but it isn't consistent or entirely cogent (at least to my eyes). The visual play involving the Pusscat Lounge sequence, for example, is completely lost on me. Pehaps Ritt and Company were turning the trope of secret agents and buxom babes on its head - though espionage entertainment like the James Bond vehicles were just hitting their stride by the mid-sixties.

ando wrote:It's, of course, an ironic move as it's Leamus who is posing as the traitor.

There's a layering of ironies here. Leamus is posing as a traitor, ie. not there to help Fiedler the way he claims; yet his mission actually is to help Fiedler, just not for the reasons Fiedler thinks. That's the first layer of irony. The second layer is the one neither of them (nor us) knows at that point, which is that Leamus is not there to help Fiedler at all, but to incriminate him; and in what is a further irony, to incriminate him by giving him not what Leamus assumes is fake information, but true information after all (the bank accounts actually were being used by Mundt). After all of this is revealed, Leamus feels sympathy for Fiedler and a continued disgust for Mundt, even tho' the latter is on his side and the former very much not. So he is Fiedler's friend after all, despising the part he inadvertently played in Fiedler's downfall. This sympathy truly puts him into the mind-set of the embittered agent ready to turn traitor over the abuses of his own side, the thing he thought he was only pretending to be this whole time. So the final layer of irony is that Fiedler was right about Leamus all along in those scenes in the alps; he just didn't know that what he was saying was prophetic rather immediate.

Yes. Those are the psychological implications that we're left with by the end of the film. But how are these implications illustrated visually? Is the visual play equal to the aural narrative in conveying any of the deeper levels of irony? Does the dialogue, in other words, provide more information than the visual clues or vice-versa in creating the slippery nature of secret agent operations? I think, for instance, that I could listen to the soundtrack alone and enjoy the film without missing much of the irony embedded within the narrative. But the visual play is not nearly as strong. And as celebrated as the cinematography is so much of it is relegated to talking head (back and forth/over the shoulder shots) scenes where the film often lags.

Compared with Carol Reed's The Third Man, for instance, where - as I recall - the camerawork conveys relationships that are much more fluid, changing and unsettling; yet at the same time far less ambiguous, Spy feels visually heavyhanded, even cumbersome.

Sometimes Spy feels like a ghost film. I had to do a double take when at the end where Leamus and Nan lay dead astride The Wall a fuzzy white apparation appears between them. At first I thought of some super-imposed figure of The Virgin Mary but once the camera did a focus pull it turned out to be a white snot rag. The film is often so still it leads the mind which is weighing all the levels of irony to all kinds of phantasmagoria!