Tinker, Tailor worth the wait

I have wanted to see Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy since early summer when I saw its trailer while living in York. The film opened September 16 in England – three days after my return to the States. Imagine my disappointment when I searched for the U.S. release date, only to discover that the film would not reach American theaters until December 9! Even then, December 9 was a limited release date, and Portland theaters would not show the movie until the final weekend of 2011. Yep, December 30. After waiting half a year for this film, I entered the theater thinking it better be damn worth it.

It was. Director Tomas Alfredson’s bleak portrait of UK espionage during the 1970′s forces the viewer to slow down and appreciate silent shots and brief dialogue. Ex-spy George Smiley (brilliantly played by Gary Oldman) is asked to secretly work for ‘the Circus’ in order to find out which one of the four top British agents is leaking information to Russia: Tinker, Percy Alleline (Toby Jones); Tailor, Bill Haydon (Colin Firth); Solider, Roy Bland (Ciarán Hinds); or Poor Man, Toby Esterhase (David Dencik). (Yeah…the ‘Spy’ is in reference to Smiley himself, whose predecessor also suspected Smiley of potentially being the mole. ‘Poor Man’ doesn’t sound as catchy in the title, clearly.)

Tinker is a study in suspense. This is no Jason Bourne flick. Absent are chase scenes, flashy cars, fight sequences, and fly-on-the-wall cinematography. Instead the suspense slowly builds throughout as Smiley thinks his way through the case. Sure, he moves around secretly. He visits people who are supposed to be dead or wanted dead. But in each case, Smiley is methodical and deliberative. The film’s look echoes that disciplined (some might call it ‘dull’) pace. Overcast skies compliment the dreary browns and chilly grey hues of London. There is no bright lighting or bold colors; this story is not the place for them. The dialogue is startlingly sparse. In fact, Oldman does not have a single line for the first twenty minutes. Even then his lines are short. When he finally gives a monologue (nearly 2/3 through the film), it comes as a surprise – as though Smiley were not capable of uttering more than three sentences at a time. He is more than capable, however, and the monologue is one of the best I have seen on screen this past year.

Performances are nuanced and consistent – the work of seasoned, mature actors. Indeed, it was Tinker’s bevy of A-list British actors that first attracted me to the film. You have Oldman, Firth, Jones, Benedict Cumberbatch, Tom Hardy and Mark Strong all in the same film. It’s every British film lover’s dream come true.

There is a caveat to Tinker: this is not a film for everyone. It requires patience. If you’re looking for a fast-paced action thriller, you will be sorely disappointed. If you go see Tinker to try and figure out which character is the mole, you will most likely emerge from the theater frustrated. In my opinion, Tinker is not a film for you to figure out. We get the privilege to watch Smiley solve the puzzle. The ‘clues’ that Smiley notices are often too subtle or invisible to us viewers. At the end, I didn’t really care which agent was the mole; I just wanted to know who it was. Some might find that insurmountably frustrating. I find it to be a deliberate, intentional choice by Alfredson to create a specific kind of spy film. It’s an experience in watching – allowing oneself to fully immerse into the story and be carried along for the ride. Most of the time, you’re riding blind. I found that exhilarating, and I accepted the journey due to the exquisite way in which Alfredson develops the narrative. Bottom line: Tinker Tailor Solider Spy is an acquired taste. If you appreciate meticulous, stoical, thoughtful suspense, this is your Holy Grail.

Playing at Fox Tower 10 in Portland, OR.

 

a charming and offbeat debut: Ayoade’s Submarine

Having loved Richard Ayoade’s geeky exploits as Maurice Moss in The IT Crowd, I was intrigued to see his directorial debut, Submarine. In fact, Ayoade was the only reason I attended the film screening last Thursday night. I knew nothing of the plot—which has not happened since my friend Jacki dragged me to the Star Trek re-boot. Even then, at least I knew of Kirk and Spock and something-or-other in deep space. With Submarine, I knew two things about the film: 1) Richard Ayoade directed it, and 2) it was an indie flick, produced by 4Film.

 

Submarine turned out to be a charming, quirky tale of fifteen-year-old Oliver Tate (Craig Roberts). The story coalesces around the traditional adolescent afflictions of failed teen romance and embarrassing parents. Somewhat of an ‘inbetweener’ at school, Oliver pines after his crush, Jordana Bevan, who does not acknowledge he exists—until Oliver joins in bullying a fellow classmate in order to capture Jordana’s attention. At home, meanwhile, he observes and interacts with his painfully reserved parents much like one does with bizarre creatures at the zoo. Clearly he cannot relate to them, and his aim is to simply endure until he can move out, which is radically altered when a former flame of his mother returns to the neighbourhood and threatens to destroy his parents’ marriage. His mission thus changes to reignite his parents’ lost love for one another.

 

The film fluctuates between highly stylised sequences and cringe-worthy realism. One wonders if Ayoade has spent any time in art classes for the way in which the mise-en-scène frequently resembled framed paintings or photographs. Even the shot of the ordinary, everyday kitchen table, which occurs several times throughout the film as Oliver and his parents silently eat, includes a massive fish tank behind them, illuminating the scene with an icy, fluorescent blue light. Being an indie film, you’ve got the typical off-beat peculiarities: Jordana’s hobby of burning male leg hair with matches, Jordana and Oliver hanging out in an abandoned, broken bathtub, the hilariously kooky neighbour who gives self-help seminars on the healing power of ‘Light’. All are framed with meticulous precision and intentionality.

 

Humour is exquisitely delivered. Lloyd and Jill Tate, played excellently by Noah Taylor and Sally Hawkins, deliver some of the best moments and lines. Jill brings whole new meaning to ‘buttoned-up’ with her outfits that literally button to her throat. Lloyd struggles to show emotion, though it’s apparent he feels very deeply for his wife and son, which highlights a tragic quality beneath all the awkward-fuelled humour. The scene in which father and son choose to have dinner together, rather than finding the courage to meet their significant others who are expecting them, is particularly poignant as it reveals how similar Oliver is to his father, despite his teenage wishes against it.

 

If there was one aspect of Submarine that annoyed me it was the film’s obvious attempts to be quirky, weird, and peculiar. The eccentric indie flick used to be novel. Now, with the likes of Wes Anderson and Noah Baumbach, such oddity is commonplace. At several points throughout Submarine it felt like Ayoade was trying too hard. (Who is to say whether this had anything to do with the film’s executive producer—Ben Stiller—who has performed in films by both Anderson and Baumbach.)

 

That aside, Submarine provides an hour and a half of pleasurable entertainment. The story itself offers a reassuring, contained happiness at the end. Even when we have made mistakes and lost something we believed to be all-important, Submarine shows that life goes on, we heal our wounds, and perhaps we become a bit wiser in the process. Ayoade has proven himself to be a capable and visionary director. Several creative elements—such as Oliver’s self-reflexive voiceover and the ironically bombastic partitioning of the film into five parts—elevate Submarine into one of the best films I have seen this year. I look forward to see what Ayoade will do next.

 

4.5 stars out of 5.

 

film review: Never Let Me Go

Last week I saw the film Never Let Me Go (dir. Mark Romanek), based on the novel by Kazuo Ishiguro. The dystopian story has a fairly straightforward plot: in 1952, a medical breakthrough allowed for humans to live past 100 years. In order to beat cancer and disease, vital organs are harvested from ‘duplicates’ (read: clones), who appear as ordinary and similar to you and me.

The film follows three such duplicates—though you do not know this at first introduction—from childhood at their special school Hailsham, to young adulthood, and finally to their ‘completion’, the period around their late-20s when they start their donations. Kathy, Tommy, and Ruth (played by Carey Mulligan, Andrew Garfield, and Keira Knightley respectively) form a love triangle, though we always know that Kathy and Tommy are soulmates, and Ruth’s intervention seems rather pointless. Her whole character feels pointless, as her friendship with Kathy never comes across as genuine. If she is meant to serve as Kathy’s foil, the film does a poor job of following through since she and Tommy break up two-thirds through the film, and her final ‘good deed’ before death is to reunite Kathy and Tommy, accompanied by a pitiful, somewhat hollow apology for splitting them apart so many years ago.

The biggest complaint I have against Never Let Me Go is the complete and utter lack of agency. By travelling with these three characters, it is obvious we are meant to care for them—to see that they do indeed have souls and the capacity to love, feel pain, and the rest. They are not robots, as Society would like to believe them to be. The story is portrayed in such a way that seeps injustice; their fate does not seem fair.

So it’s an odd choice for everyone involved in this alternate, dystopian reality to never question the system. No one even suggests to question the political and authoritative structures that control their lives. (The small statement towards the end by their old headmistress is feeble at best and does not upset the status quo.) The result is a very fatalistic perspective. Perhaps that is what Romanek desired to present. I, however, cannot separate my activism from storytelling; I find acceptance of ‘injustice’ or potential ‘unethical treatment’ to be disturbing. What are we supposed to take away from this film? That we all, at some point, die and wish we had more time? (The sentiment expressed to us at the film’s close.)

Moreover, a refusal to engage with the ethics at hand is not some tragic, hands-off, artful approach. It is a cop out. That is my opinion, and feel free to disagree with me. I believe that if you write a story that tackles contemporary ethical issues (e.g. cloning, stem-cell research, organ harvesting, etc.) you have a responsibility to explore the ramifications and intricacies of those issues.

And lastly the story itself lacked ingenuity and energy. Aside from the love complications, the story did not really go anywhere. There are so many ways Never Let Me Go could have been more provocative, innovative, and emotionally compelling. For example, we’re told that all duplicates are modelled on society’s ‘trash’—junkies, prostitutes, alcoholics et cetera. How would the story unfold if Kathy found her ‘original’ and approached her? The questions about whether these duplicates have souls could take a whole other dimension—and the originals would then be faced with the ethical implications of using human clones merely for organ harvesting.

Unfortunately we’re left with a film that—in my opinion—tries too hard in its attempts to be heartbreaking, relying on pathos and saccharine exchanges. The acting performances were satisfactory, but none garnered my admiration. Never Let Me Go already feels past its time and without anything to say—a soulless venture. But like I said, watch and make your own conclusions.