A Most Wanted Man

Not since Martin Ritt’s The Spy Who Came in from the Cold (1965) has a feature film been so deftly adapted from one of John le Carré’s novels as Anton Corbijn’s A Most Wanted Man. Set in Hamburg, Germany during the time of America’s war on terror and the Bush Administration’s policy of extraordinary rendition, le Carré’s 2008 spy thriller makes clear how little has changed in the world of espionage since the days of his celebrated Cold War novels. Loosely based on actual events, the film tells the story of German and US intelligence agencies, each dubious of the other’s intentions, motives, and abilities, and their shared interest in a half-Chechen, half-Russian immigrant with ties to a great fortune in a German bank. Philip Seymour Hoffman, in his final completed performance before his death, plays the head of a German anti-terrorism task force with operatives based deep within Hamburg’s Islamic community.

Le Carré writes realistic, complicated novels that often lose most of their narrative power when their plots are condensed to fit the running time of a feature film, as is the case with Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011), The Constant Gardener (2005), The Russia House (1990), The Little Drummer Girl (1984), and nearly every other screen adaptation that isn’t a British TV miniseries. But this picture, with a slow-burning yet riveting screenplay by Andrew Bovell (Edge of Darkness, Strictly Ballroom, Blessed) tidily conveys everything the audience needs to know about its characters and events, slowly drawing us into its taut, thrilling climax. A Most Wanted Man is a cerebral, dialogue-driven picture, and anyone familiar with the novel (or any of le Carre's novels) will know what kind of ending to expect, but the film is exhilarating enough to keep even savvier fans on the edges of their seats.

Hoffman is magnificent and heartbreaking as Günter Bachmann, the German intelligence official. Bachmann is a dishevelled, disenchanted, chain-smoking, hard-drinking bear of a man, haunted by his past but still a brilliant and consummate professional, all of which evokes unavoidable comparisons to Hoffman himself at the end of his life. This synchronicity between actor and character does not distract from the portrayal it sharpens it. Hoffman's subtle transformation of himself into Bachmann is more profound than his Oscar-winning turn in Capote (2005). With this role, he joins Alec Guinness, Richard Burton, and Gary Oldman in the ranks of great actors who have played le Carré’s world-weary, morally ambiguous heroes, delivering yet another stunning performance in a brilliant but tragically abbreviated career.  The supporting cast is also uniformly excellent. It includes Nina Hoss, who starred in Christian Petzold’s terrific 2012 Stasi period-drama Barbara, Daniel Brühl, of Inglourious Basterds, The Bourne Ultimatum, and Rush, and Rainer Bock, who appeared in The White Ribbon and War Horse as well as the aforementioned Barbara. The presence and performances of these actors made me wonder how much more authentic the film would feel if all the German parts had been played by actual Germans, but Hoffman, Willem Dafoe, and even the Rachel McAdams are ideal movie-star choices for their respective roles.

Corbijn’s visual style is unexpectedly bland, considering the photographer turned director’s experience making innovative music videos and distinctive album art for ‘80s rock bands like U2 and Depeche Mode. But his deliberate and confident editorial pacing seems equally surprising, with none of the random flash one might expect from someone with that background. As a filmmaker he retains a still photographer’s understanding of when to linger on a shot, and he never allows his camera to upstage his actors. All in all, A Most Wanted Man is a powerful rebuttal to anyone who claims they can no longer find intelligent, challenging stories at the cinema.