Agent in eigener Sache

As far as I know, neither `Smiley's People', nor its prequel, `Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy', is available in the US in BBC packaging (the current distributor) so you'll have to use your initiative if you want them. I acquired my copies of `Smiley's People' and `Tinker, Tailor' through my video guy, who makes a couple of trips every year to London to shop for Euro-only products. I then had them re-coded to the U.S. playback standard. I would urge collectors to definitely acquire both titles. Having both really gives you something to sink into. Although either title can easily stand alone, they dovetail beautifully. Only the re-casting of a couple of principal supporting roles detracts slightly from the otherwise airtight continuity between the two. If you've read the book, you know the plot. If you have not read it (admittedly, LeCarré is not for everyone), here's an appetizer:

Retired British counter-intelligence operative George Smiley (Sir Alec Guinness in a remarkably nuanced performance) becomes aware, through events linked to the murder of a former colleague, that his seemingly invulnerable arch-rival in Soviet counter-intelligence, known to the western intelligence fraternity as `Karla', may have finally exposed an Achilles heel. (Some years earlier, as recounted in the more episodic yet excellent `Tinker, Tailor', Karla nearly destroyed British counter-intelligence, wrecking Smiley's marriage in the process). Going on an initial hunch and a fragment of evidence, turned up in a beautiful sequence reminiscent of a similar scene in Antonioni's `Blow Up', Smiley methodically begins to put the pieces together, despite the fact that almost everyone he knows is advising him to go home and don his robe and slippers. At the same time Karla, realizing that he has probably jeopardized himself by bending his own rigidly-enforced rules, is ruthlessly trying to cover his own tracks. Karla (introduced in a fascinating, wordless performance by Patrick Stewart in `Tinker, Tailor') is no comic book villain but a brilliant, almost monumental adversary who survived Stalin's purges, rising through the labyrinth of Soviet socio-politics to the pinnacle of power.

`Smiley's People' is a tale of revenge. If, as the saying goes, revenge is a dish best served cold, or at least cool, Smiley's is the coolest possible variety, barely visible through a professionalism honed by years in the Cold War trenches. Moving resolutely around or through all obstacles, he eventually collects the evidence needed to secure the support of Sir Saul Enderby, current chief of the revamped, cynical British counter-intelligence service (termed by LeCarré `The Circus'). Barry Foster, the eerily incandescent serial killer in Alfred Hitchcock's `Frenzy', portrays the suave, power-loving Enderby, an arch-bureaucrat with more clout than credibility, whose vanity will not let him begrudge Smiley any acknowledgement of his brilliant and courageous work. Their scene together, in which Enderby tries and fails to push Smiley's buttons, all of which have been hermetically sealed by decades of experience, is a delight. `Smiley's People' operates largely on this sort of intimate, interpersonal level. Some of its greatest pleasures are found in scenes that center on the unflinching Smiley and his elegant, slightly honest, former master of spy-tradecraft, Toby Esterhaze (Bernard Hepton). Smiley recruited Esterhaze from the Vienna gutters at the end of the World War II and to open a line of fire on Karla, reactivates him to compromise and turn one of the Soviet spymaster's European operatives. (If Toby had been Nixon's Chief of Staff during the Watergate crisis, the Nixster would probably still be president.) The initial meeting between Smiley and Esterhaze, their first since a rather unfriendly encounter in `Tinker, Tailor', is masterful, almost poetic.

Even in its somewhat streamlined, screen version `Smiley's People' is complex and dimensional, requiring full attention at all times. Crucial elements of dialog dart past while you blink (you'll become an adept rewinder). LeCarré's novel is screened as a series of beautifully-wrought set pieces; for the most part quiet interactions between detailed, believable characters who are driven by equally believable motivations, from the petty through the desperate. The settings jump from London to Paris to Hamburg to Berne and back as Smiley whittles each lead to heartwood. Not a shot is fired during the entire film, but the background menace against which Smiley operates is unmistakable. The very lethal Karla has known, almost from the start, that he has acquired a bogey. But he does not know that it is Smiley, whom Karla thought retired and out of the game, who is now on his tail. Smiley must work quickly and precisely while staying hidden, knowing that if he is discovered, he and anyone with whom he is currently associated, will almost certainly be eliminated. Karla's nickname in the west is `The Sandman'. Anyone, anywhere, who has ever threatened him has been permanently put to sleep. Karla will be especially responsive to Smiley, for it was he who unmasked Karla's highly-placed and destructive double-agent in `Tinker, Tailor', through whom Karla had been manipulating the entire western intelligence community for decades.

As events proceed in their intimate, quiet way, the suspense builds like layers of paint, one thin coat at a time. It's hard to resist, even after numerous screenings. Although `Smiley's People' is a serious thriller, in some places exhibiting an almost documentary realism, it is also poignant. Many of its characters, some decent, some less so, their lives all but car-baled by Stalinism, are now living out tenuous gray-scale existences, still under the cornice of Soviet power, despite the fact that they now reside in the west. The restrained, mournful score further accentuates the film's underlying emotionality. The acting is superb down through the smallest role. Even the editing, skillfully introducing and interweaving the corollary plot lines is first-rate. I screen `Smiley's People' every few months and never tire of it. If you appreciate LeCarré, espionage-based drama, or are simply looking for a temporary antidote to rampant ageism, you should see or collect this masterpiece. It's a gourmet meal for the mind.

The merits of Alec Guinness's Smiley are familiar to anyone who has seen this wonderful BBC adaptation of LeCarré's great 'Karla' trilogy of books..well, two of the books anyway. Sadly they skipped over 'The Honourable Schoolboy' arguably the most exciting of the three.

Both 'Tinker Tailor' and 'Smiley's People' have their casting mishaps but nothing that detracts in any important way. I found Eileen Atkins' Ostrakova to be wildly miscast, physically, but masterfully acted, so she gets a pass. Michael Byrne's Guillam is an improvement over his predecessor in 'Tinker Tailor' but his part is so small that it hardly registers. Beryl Reid's scene as Connie Sachs is longer than her scene in 'Tinker Tailor' but still woefully short of the involved and fascinating scene in the book. It is in regards to Sachs and Jerry Westerby that I deeply regret the BBC not making 'The Honourable Schoolboy.' Reid would have been fabulous in that role, though still not nearly fat or tall enough to wear the original Connie's shoes.

Generally the actors are superb. There is an especially moving and unforgettable performance from Tulle Silberg as Alexandra Ostrakova. Her scene with Smiley is deeply touching and it is easy to understand why Smiley does what he does in the end. I won't say any more to avoid a spoiler.

'Smiley's People' is not as riveting as 'Tinker Tailor' I think because I found the first mini- series, focusing on the inner workings of the Circus, to be far more interesting than the foreign "outside" locations in 'Smiley's People.' But that's just me. I still love this film and watch it often.

Don't miss the Smiley series! The BBC will never make anything like it again, on the evidence of the mediocre bilge they've been catting up in recent years.

"Smiley's People" is the sequel miniseries to "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy" and is also based on a novel by John le Carré. In this series, George Smiley investigates the murder of a Russian general formerly passing information to the Circus which puts him on the trail of his old rival, Soviet spy master "Karla".

As with "Tinker, Tailor", Alec Guinness is perfect in a subtle performance as George Smiley. The returning performers and new performances are solid as well.

"Smiley's People" is at least up to the high standard of "Tinker, Tailor" and perhaps better. Whereas in "Tinker, Tailor" Smiley investigated within a limited circle of people and limited area, in this series the locations and characters are more varied. In this way the plot of "Smiley's People" requires more focus to understand the connections between characters, which I enjoyed.

As with "Tinker, Tailor", the style consisted mostly of Smiley conversing with people for information, so this series is also not appropriate for those looking for a fast-paced James Bond type spy thriller, but enjoyable for those looking for a deliberately paced spy film. It is worth noting the final scene, which is impressively tense and provides an interesting and appropriate conclusion.

The recent death of Sir Alec Guinness prompted me to wonder which role in his very long career he should be remembered for, and I believe it should be his portrayal of John Le Carre's master spy and inadequate man, George Smiley.

"Smiley's People", like the earlier "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy", derives much of its fascination from its mundane realism. Le Carre, unlike many espionage authors, really knew the setting, the techniques and many of the people. The TV series follows every detail of the novel and cannot be faulted on any grounds of atmosphere.

The cast list has a plethora of famous names, some so heavily made up and convincingly acted as to be unrecognisable as themselves. Guinness's gelid tones and painstakingly slow gestures manage to put them all, even the bubbly Bernard Hepton and Beryl Reid, in the shade. Especially in the final scene, where all Smiley's friends and supporters are practically dancing with joy, Guinness's studied absence of emotion dominates.

Few corporations other than the BBC would dare drag a 200-page novel out to over 4 hours of TV time, and very few actors other than Sir Alec Guinness could have held the viewer fascinated throughout such a marathon.

I won't choose between TINKER TAILOR and SMILEY'S PEOPLE. They're both first-rate. PEOPLE isn't as dark (even though bodies litter the landscape), but it builds to great tension even on repeat viewings.

Master-class performances by Michael Lonsdale (Grigoriev), Michael Gough (Mikhel), Eileen Atkins (Ostrakova), and even the unknown Stephen Riddle (Mostyn). Paul Herzberg's good simple Villem is a treat, and Beryl Reid as Connie Sachs does an even better job than in TINKER, showing Connie's mind a little further gone. Even the bit parts knock it out of the park with authenticity.

I was really glad that the Toby Esterhase character was finally given his linguistic head in this series. His Hungarian-English popcorn speech ("Fantastic! George! All your life!") is brought to life by Bernard Hepton, reprising his role from TINKER and showing himself equal to the novels' original dialog.

The SMILEY'S PEOPLE Special Features DVD has a different interview with John le Carré than the TINKER one does. Be sure to watch them both.