A Most Wanted Man is an old-fashioned spy story with all too
current stakes. Based on the John le Carré novel of the same title,
the characters are weary but dogged — if we like them. The others….slither.
In his last film, Philip Seymour
Hoffman plays a German spy named Gunter Bachmann who acknowledges that he
commits acts against the German constitution while trying to keep tabs on and
track down potential terrorists. He is
the quintessential John le Carré spy, ever out in the cold, sad, lonely, probably
an alcoholic, and dedicated to protecting the world, his contacts, and his own
belief in what is just, which is not the same as legal.
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| Philip Seymour Hoffman as Gunter Bachmann. Photo Credit: Roadside Attractions |
The time is now, the city is Hamburg, and it is shocking. I haven’t been to Germany since before 9/11,
but I cannot recall litter except in the vicinity of U.S. army bases, or
graffiti anywhere. In today’s Hamburg, both are everywhere. The light is harsh — the sun doesn’t shine,
it glowers in a garish show of illumination without warmth.
Gunther trusts no one in the German political arena and certainly not
the American (represented with chilling arrogance here by Robin Wright, her façade clean, modern, even chic). Gunter will use
entrapment, extortion, blackmail, cajoling and hugging to get what he wants
from the informants he has cultivated into his network. This is all for the greater good, and he at
no time wishes to use violence in his network.
That’s for the Americans. He will
use threats of deportation, he will kidnap and intimidate. He coerces young
Jamal (Mehdi Dehbi) to sneak and spy
on his own family and mosque, and just how far Gunter expects his network to go
is shocking.
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| Robin Wright as the American, Hoffman as the German. Photo Credit: Roadside Attractions. |
The tension level is consistently high as we follow the slightest
facial expression of each of the driven, intense members of Gunter’s
clandestine team:
- Irna (Nina Hoss)
- Maximilian (Daniel Brühl)
- Rasheed (Kostja Ullman)
- Niki (Vicky Krieps)
Performances are low key, realistic, frightening. Claire
Simpson’s editing carries us along, shocks us, stops us, tosses us forward
into the sliced and slivered scenes. The
shots are stark, the lighting cold, the river lifeless. This is a new cold war and it drains the
color out of everything in Benoît
Delhomme’s cinematography.
We become part of Gunter’s team, so it is “we” who are following two
men — a wealthy philanthropist who may be funneling money to terrorists and a
Chechen Muslim who has entered Germany illegally, seeking asylum. Abdullah, the philanthropist, appears to be
suspected just because he’s Islamic. He
is sophisticated, kind, and beautifully played by Homayouin Hershadi. The
other subject of surveillance, Issa Karpov, appears like a homeless person on
the brink of a psychotic break. He is
suspected of being a terrorist, particularly since he confessed to committing
terrorist acts when tortured by the Russians.
But, as Irna states, who wouldn’t, when under torture by the Russians. We are all breakable. Issa (born Ivan) reveals himself extremely
slowly in Grigoriy Dobrygin’s searing
portrayal.
The Chechen finds refuge with another Muslim family seeking asylum in
Germany, a Turkish mother and son. Another
network. These people reach out to their
lawyer, Annabel Richter played by Rachel
McAdams, to try to get asylum and make contact with a banker who has something
belonging to Karpov. The lawyer is left
wing and idealistic, or she’s just doing the opposite of what her family wants
her to do. She rides her bicycle all
over Hamburg but can go to high or low society.
The character and her actions are totally predictable and Ms. McAdams
does nothing to make it more.
 |
| Rachel McAdams and Grigoriy Dobrygin. Photo Credit: Roadside Attractions. |
Rainer Bock is chilly as the
angry German agent Dieter Mohr, working for an agency that is not clandestine. To fend off this short sightedness, Gunter
even talks to the Americans in hopes of gaining an ally for his longer-term and
much smarter intentions.
Willem Dafoe is a
well-heeled banker, angry, beautifully dressed even without comparison to the
slovenly Gunter. The banker’s wife sits at
home, seen from outside as if on display before floor-to-ceiling windows,
dressed for an evening out in a tight sheath and high heels, or perhaps for a
photo shoot. She is not going anywhere. This
is a house not a home, an artist’s lifeless rendering of high fashion and just
as stiff. Everything’s a pose, roles for the playing in the proper setting.
Modes of transportation helped delineate character: Issa came to Hamburg by mass public
transportation, Annabel rides a bicycle, Gunter drives an inconspicuous old sedan,
and the banker has a beautiful sleek machine that screams “Look At Me!” One wonders if he’ll change cars at the end
of the story.
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| Willem Dafoe and Philip Seymour Hoffman. Photo Credit: Roadside Attractions. |
Delhomme’s cinematography combines with Sebastian T. Krawinkel’s production design which engenders
claustrophobia in both tightly enclosed spaces and open ones with long, empty views. The images contrast the work done and lives
lived in the shadows — Gunter retreats to the underground world of rathskellers
— with the not-clandestine German government and the glamorous American meeting
in high rise offices and restaurants with plate glass windows and strategic
views. There’s nothing pretty to look at
no matter how high.
Director Anton Corbijn
skillfully manipulates us as Gunter manipulates his network and his team. It’s exhausting. Corbijn takes his time, lays out the story,
lets us come to know his people. We care about them. This is no typical American thriller. Occasionally some driving is rather fast, but
nothing else. Except the abrupt
ending. Andrew Bovell’s screenplay (based on le Carre’s novel) is brusque, brisk,
and as chilly as the cinematography, lending layers to each individual we meet.
The actors do finely detailed, subdued work in this subdued world. Grigoriy Dobrygin’s Issa allows us in as
carefully as an abused animal, shaming our assumptions about him. Robin Wright’s American is that brittle
sophisticate, cold as ice, an adept listener with unfathomable eyes. I recently read an article about le Carré and
his ever-growing dislike of America.
Believe it. It’s right there on the screen.
As for Mr. Hoffman. His
performance is so naturalistic, he is so subsumed into the person of Gunter
with Gunter’s entire life always alive in him, he becomes Gunter. Consequently Gunter becomes our representative
in the story, his view becomes ours. We
are in Gunter’s head, we become him.
Betrayal of Gunter is betrayal of us.
That is the power of Philip
Seymour Hoffman. He is already missed.
The power of le Carré and Corbijn and Bovell is the niggling feeling that
the next time you’re in a pub or on a train or getting into a taxi, you will
look around you and wonder who’s watching.
Or you should.
~
Molly Matera, signing off to read le Carré’s novel, which I assume will leave
me as depressed as this thrilling film did.
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