You cannot judge a book by its cover, but you can occasionally judge a Blu-ray by its cover art. Martin Ritt's 1965 film, The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, based on the 1963 John le Carre novel of the same name, is stark with its black-and-white photography, and the big picture with regard to the plight of the main character is often obscured by up-close gritty details in the same way that the concrete face of the Berlin Wall stands prominently to block everything else on this cover.
British agent Alec Leamas, who suffers burnout after years of overseeing operations in East Berlin, expects the worst upon his return to London following the death of an operative, but is instructed by Control to remain "out in the cold" for a little longer in order to orchestrate the downfall of an East German intelligence officer who is responsible for several agent deaths. Leamas's subsequent adventures and misadventures showcase his cynicism while exploiting the humanity that remains within him. At one point, Leamas describes a horrific highway accident where two trucks converged on a family in a small station wagon, and compares the fate of the family to the innocent people who suffer during the ideology clashes of big governments. As a spy who, in metaphorical terms, lives out in the cold around other distrustful people who are equally shady and manipulative, Leamas stands the risk of being blinded by his self-imposed detachment from beliefs instead of being protected by that detachment.
The Spy Who Came in from the Cold is often regarded as a soberingly realistic antidote to the comparably flashy James Bond 007 novels by Ian Fleming and the subsequent James Bond movie adaptations, but I do not believe that this is necessarily a fair assessment. The last couple of novels in Ian Fleming's James Bond series acknowledge psychological burnout and struggles against mental resignation in an open way that give the reader a small glimpse into the emotional turmoil that might plague a secret agent in real life, and a few well-placed subtle idiosyncrasies in the Bond movie adaptations make the same acknowledgements that are not lost on the attentive viewer. A quote in Fleming's first Bond novel, Casino Royale, that stresses the importance of "protecting people and not principles" outlines the need to focus on the big picture when one inevitably becomes disillusioned with the ethics of either side of the battle. When that disillusionment takes over, a person can easily find himself figuratively, or even literally, straddling a wall between the two sides, unable to commit to one side or the other, and may be crushed by the two converging forces in the same way that the small station wagon is destroyed between two trucks. One can understand how it may be better for a spy to operate simply as a blunt instrument of larger entities instead of dwelling too thoughtfully on the complexities of the career.
Martin Ritt's film may paint the picture of Cold War politics on an unrelentingly bleak canvas, but The Spy Who Came in from the Cold is ultimately fulfilling in its rewards, thanks in part to an immensely formidable cast. Richard Burton, a veteran of Shakespeare adaptations who is known for his intensity, is at his absolute best in his role as Alec Leamas. Burton's performance places us squarely in the passenger seat along Leamas's journey, so that we feel his alcohol-induced indifference, his wide-eyed moment of alarm when the realization of a betrayal becomes apparent, and his frenzied angst at the perceived futility of his existence. Claire Bloom, whom I will always associate with her roles as Theo in the original 1963 version of The Haunting and as Hera in the original 1981 version of Clash of the Titans, shines as the young library employee who provides an idealistic counterpoint to Leamas's cynicism. Oskar Werner, who excelled in Jules and Jim, plays a contact intelligence agent whose interactions with Leamas provide some of the most beautiful scenes of the film. Peter van Eyck, from Clouzot's The Wages of Fear, is fascinating as East German intelligence officer Mundt. Finally, Bernard Lee, who portrayed the legendary M in several James Bond films, brings the spy movie comparisons and contrasts full circle.
I previously owned The Spy Who Came in from the Cold on Criterion DVD. Upon my first viewings of the film, I was initially displeased that the rich tapestries of the superb John le Carre novel were confined to an adaptation that clocks in at less that two hours. Subsequent revisits to the film, most recently with the new Blu-ray this evening, have given me a greater appreciation for its place as a milestone of espionage films.
On this Criterion Blu-ray, The Spy Who Came in from the Cold looks incredible. Criterion has bestowed some eye-opening blessings to black-and-white 1960s cinema in 2013 with its crystal clear transfers of John Frankenheimer's Seconds and Frantisek Vlacil's Marketa Lazarova, and the presentation of this low-key spy film stands shoulder to shoulder with the best in terms of preserving the natural film look while providing outstanding clarity. A handful of hugely informative documentaries about author John le Carre, actor Richard Burton, and others are almost as engrossing as the film itself.
I give this Criterion Blu-ray release of The Spy Who Came in from the Cold an easy five-star rating across the board.
All countries
Argentina
Austria
Belgium
Brazil
Bulgaria
Chile
China
Colombia
Cyprus
Czech Republic
Estonia
Denmark
Finland
Greece
Hong Kong
Hungary
Iceland
Indonesia
Ireland
Israel
India
Latvia
Lithuania
Malaysia
New Zealand
Norway
Philippines
Poland
Portugal
Romania
Russia
Singapore
South Africa
South Korea
Sweden
Switzerland
Taiwan
Thailand
Turkey
Ukraine
United Arab Emirates
This haul was purchased as follows
, but it'd be nice to see Chariots of Fire... yes I know it's a Warner Bros. and it just got a Digibook release. But still...
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