Why was this film made?
All art exists within an historical context, a bundle of occurrences and conditions which, like a woman in labor, gives birth to art as an expression of those conditions, a mirror by which to understand what's going on in our society and the world and, even, within ourselves. Thomas Alfredson's Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy is a direct answer to all the turmoil within England and Great Britain right now, and a direct response to those suggesting that mistakes have been made and wide-sweeping changes need to be implemented.
John le Carre's Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy was a best-selling novel, . . . in 1974; so why would it be resurrected today? What could a Cold War era spy novel possibly communicate to us about the world in which we are living? Why does a "mole" at the top of British Intelligence concern us? It's not a mole in British Intelligence, it's the mole within some of us, when times get hard the doubts start swelling up: maybe the free market system isn't the best way to go, with pension plans being altered and Occupy Wall Street and Occupy London trying to take over, with riots and marches going on everywhere, factories and stores closing and unheard of unemployment rates, . . . maybe, we choose the wrong model, and we should have become communists.
1911).
George Smiley (Gary Oldman) doesn't say a word until his third or fourth scene; rather unusual, a major star like him, just sitting there and taking up oxygen? But this fits in with contemporary trends of silence, for example, the critically acclaimed silent film The Artist and little Hannah in Take Shelter; these trends, not adding Gary Oldman to their ranks, assures us that silence is a legitimate method of communicating, just as Soderbergh taught us in Contagion that noise is a legitimate means of communication.
Towards the end, as Rickey as made the phone call and the heads of MI6 are meeting and the bait in the trap sit, Smiley does two things: first, while listening on the phone, he takes off his shoes, then he takes out a roll of mints from his pockets and sucks on that while he's about to make the biggest bust in MI6 history. Why? Smiley is being careful to lay a trap for the culprit, not as an act of revenge. Removing his shoes is a sign of removing obstacles to his will, that he's going to let the cards fall where they may (in addition to not making noise as he walks across the floor), but since Haydon had been having an affair with his wife, Ann, this is an important act of "removing" his personal life from the situation.
Removing the pack of mints from his pocket means that he is "pulling from within himself" what he needs to do, and that is keep himself clean (not let loose his personal anger and feelings, but remain "fresh" and "clean"); it's also important that, when the mole is revealed, he doesn't say something he's going to regret. It's a very simple device that reveals to us aspects of a spymaster who is not used to revealing things about himself.
The role of Ann, Smiley's wife, is limited yet imperative (there is the book and a previous film I am mentally comparing her role to and it's quite different); we never see her face because she's quite symbolic of MI6 itself, rather, England itself, and we can't see through Smiley's glasses how he sees whom he's married to. Ann having left him in the beginning of the film corresponds to MI6 leaving him (firing him) and Ann returning corresponds to Smiley returning to MI6 (in Control's position). Bill Haydon's affair with Ann corresponds to Bill Haydon . . . Well, I won't use the vulgar word I think the film supplies, but instead will say "having intercourse with" MI6. Ricky, and his affair with the wife of Boris, a Soviet agent, (isn't right but in artistic terms) balances out what Bill Haydon is doing to Smiley's wife and what Irina supplies for Ricky is the mirror image of what Ann does to George: Bill was trying to bring down George through Ann, but Ricky brings down Bill through Irina. (Connie is important, yet I would rather discuss her if there is going to be the two sequels).
In context of what was spoken above, Ann returning to Smiley can be taken that the future will be solid and stable, a united effort, a marriage of love and fidelity. But there is the murdered Irina, and her death foreshadows the death of the Communist Party (which le Carre did not know, writing in the 1970's), but there is also the mother, feeding her baby at the Hungarian cafe where Prideaux is shot, and the baby left without a mother. The last we see of them, a policeman has taken the baby and holds it, as Smiley would be holding the new, infant MI6 after "the great betrayal." If "the future is female," (and there are many ways to interpret that), it might be a future that is more nourishing, more loving, but I think that's one of the things we can't know because we are in the present, not in the future.
1979 version of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy with Alec Guinness clearly manifested what a crime Bill committed with serving the Soviets. In today's version, Bill tells Smiley, "It was an aesthetic choice as well as moral. The west has become so ugly," and this is the real lesson for us, today: what is it that has become ugly in capitalism that we want to abandon it for? We cannot mix the "aesthetic" and "moral" questions of our future, we must insure they remain different questions and, as we move forward into the future, we don't throw away all the sacrifices that have been made to preserve the freedom of being free market economies.
All art exists within an historical context, a bundle of occurrences and conditions which, like a woman in labor, gives birth to art as an expression of those conditions, a mirror by which to understand what's going on in our society and the world and, even, within ourselves. Thomas Alfredson's Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy is a direct answer to all the turmoil within England and Great Britain right now, and a direct response to those suggesting that mistakes have been made and wide-sweeping changes need to be implemented.
John le Carre's Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy was a best-selling novel, . . . in 1974; so why would it be resurrected today? What could a Cold War era spy novel possibly communicate to us about the world in which we are living? Why does a "mole" at the top of British Intelligence concern us? It's not a mole in British Intelligence, it's the mole within some of us, when times get hard the doubts start swelling up: maybe the free market system isn't the best way to go, with pension plans being altered and Occupy Wall Street and Occupy London trying to take over, with riots and marches going on everywhere, factories and stores closing and unheard of unemployment rates, . . . maybe, we choose the wrong model, and we should have become communists.
1911).
George Smiley (Gary Oldman) doesn't say a word until his third or fourth scene; rather unusual, a major star like him, just sitting there and taking up oxygen? But this fits in with contemporary trends of silence, for example, the critically acclaimed silent film The Artist and little Hannah in Take Shelter; these trends, not adding Gary Oldman to their ranks, assures us that silence is a legitimate method of communicating, just as Soderbergh taught us in Contagion that noise is a legitimate means of communication.
Towards the end, as Rickey as made the phone call and the heads of MI6 are meeting and the bait in the trap sit, Smiley does two things: first, while listening on the phone, he takes off his shoes, then he takes out a roll of mints from his pockets and sucks on that while he's about to make the biggest bust in MI6 history. Why? Smiley is being careful to lay a trap for the culprit, not as an act of revenge. Removing his shoes is a sign of removing obstacles to his will, that he's going to let the cards fall where they may (in addition to not making noise as he walks across the floor), but since Haydon had been having an affair with his wife, Ann, this is an important act of "removing" his personal life from the situation.
Removing the pack of mints from his pocket means that he is "pulling from within himself" what he needs to do, and that is keep himself clean (not let loose his personal anger and feelings, but remain "fresh" and "clean"); it's also important that, when the mole is revealed, he doesn't say something he's going to regret. It's a very simple device that reveals to us aspects of a spymaster who is not used to revealing things about himself.
The role of Ann, Smiley's wife, is limited yet imperative (there is the book and a previous film I am mentally comparing her role to and it's quite different); we never see her face because she's quite symbolic of MI6 itself, rather, England itself, and we can't see through Smiley's glasses how he sees whom he's married to. Ann having left him in the beginning of the film corresponds to MI6 leaving him (firing him) and Ann returning corresponds to Smiley returning to MI6 (in Control's position). Bill Haydon's affair with Ann corresponds to Bill Haydon . . . Well, I won't use the vulgar word I think the film supplies, but instead will say "having intercourse with" MI6. Ricky, and his affair with the wife of Boris, a Soviet agent, (isn't right but in artistic terms) balances out what Bill Haydon is doing to Smiley's wife and what Irina supplies for Ricky is the mirror image of what Ann does to George: Bill was trying to bring down George through Ann, but Ricky brings down Bill through Irina. (Connie is important, yet I would rather discuss her if there is going to be the two sequels).
In context of what was spoken above, Ann returning to Smiley can be taken that the future will be solid and stable, a united effort, a marriage of love and fidelity. But there is the murdered Irina, and her death foreshadows the death of the Communist Party (which le Carre did not know, writing in the 1970's), but there is also the mother, feeding her baby at the Hungarian cafe where Prideaux is shot, and the baby left without a mother. The last we see of them, a policeman has taken the baby and holds it, as Smiley would be holding the new, infant MI6 after "the great betrayal." If "the future is female," (and there are many ways to interpret that), it might be a future that is more nourishing, more loving, but I think that's one of the things we can't know because we are in the present, not in the future.
1979 version of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy with Alec Guinness clearly manifested what a crime Bill committed with serving the Soviets. In today's version, Bill tells Smiley, "It was an aesthetic choice as well as moral. The west has become so ugly," and this is the real lesson for us, today: what is it that has become ugly in capitalism that we want to abandon it for? We cannot mix the "aesthetic" and "moral" questions of our future, we must insure they remain different questions and, as we move forward into the future, we don't throw away all the sacrifices that have been made to preserve the freedom of being free market economies.
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