Review of ‘The Spy Who Came In From The Cold’: “Stage adaptation of Le Carré’s classic isn’t getting a smiley”

Following its initial run at the Chichester Festival, David Eldridge’s play lands on the West End stage ahead of its national tour. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show to let us know whether this latest rebirth of the secret-agent novel is worth a shot.

I lied in the title. Well, I only misled. The popular character in Le Carré’s espionage novels is still present in this version — probably more than some fans would have expected to, and not necessarily for the better. The anticipation preceding the London premiere of The Spy Who Came In From The Cold hasn’t been discreet. Neither have been the reactions following last Wednesday’s opening performance, where the consensus seems more volatile than a red-phone emergency call.

As I type these words, drowned in the dead silence of the early-morning hours, Richard Burton’s authoritatively raspy voice begins to whisper in the back of my mind. I rewatched the film last evening, and although I’ve never been too keen on the revered 1965 film, I can still see why it’s endured as a cinematic classic — and the many reasons the stage counterpart won’t.

It doesn’t start well. And from then on, things hardly get any better. Similar to the film, the show opens with the death of Karl Riemeck, one of the protagonist’s right-hand men, while running East Germany’s intelligence office. Witnessing his assassination becomes a haunting memory that pesters every thought and action.

Eldridge employs this motif to delve into the lead’s psyche. On the page, it makes sense. On the stage, it looks clumsy. A flashing memory of Riemeck’s last moment on earth cycles across the venue. A tormented Leamas observes in grief. It’s supposed to be harrowing. And the more it happens, the more we should be stricken by his plight. In reality, though, all that we gather is a shallow and failed attempt to bring poignancy, whose only reason to exist is to clutter the scene.

Perhaps director Jeremy Herrin has a lot to answer for in that regard. But even so, Eldridge’s struggles with character depth are noticeable throughout the script, and so is his lack of deftness with dialogue. Overall, it comes across as clunky and unnatural. Eldridge’s endeavours to evoke the style of the time are discernible but rarely successful. There’s occasional flow, but for the most part, a sense of artificiality permeates profusely — most conversations are devoid of subtlety, and the dramatic purpose of some lines is so obvious that it loses any chances of effect.

The same goes for the personages’ arcs. The adaptation is faithful to the original source. If you’re acquainted with either the book or the film, most of the plot pieces remain. The approach, nonetheless, is a completely different case, inevitably acting to the detriment of the show. Too often, the pacing falls off through the use of underdeveloped scenes that barely convey cinematic rhythm — let alone theatricality.

Comparably, the characters’ relationships are sketchy at best and unresponsive at worst. Although Smiley’s presence is more prominent in this version, the script doesn’t grant him the emotional relevance the narrative requires to function. The same goes for Leamas’s love interest, Liz, whose infatuation feels so rushed and forced that it never comes off as believable, and consequently, meaningful. Not the best sign when it affects such a pivotal element of the story, but I guess that way the ending doesn’t hurt that much — or anything at all.

Staged in the round, Max Jones’s design is dynamic and adroit. A radar view of a divided Germany covers the deck, while minimal props and demure lighting changes deliver the atmosphere. A set of four balconies, one on each corner of the room, hang from the Dress Circle, often used for memory cutaways and culminating in the trial-scene climax. On the whole, it all works adequately. No surprises or innovations, but correlatively, no false steps.

The performances are generally acceptable, despite the limited subtext some of them showcase. Rory Keenan exudes charm and stamina in the lead role, but the poise and complexity the character should emanate are severely missing. Sometimes, they stand closer to a James Bond caricature than the afflicted lone wolf he should come across as. Simultaneously, we don’t get to see much chemistry between him and Agnes O’Casey in the role of Liz Gold, which wistfully accentuates the futility of their love arc.

Some other portrayals exhibit better nuance and intricacy. The highest praise goes to John Ramm as both George Smiley and Karden, flaunting a galvanizing aura and impeccable command in his execution. Another mention must be given to Norma Attalah as Miss Crail, through whom she exhibits an exquisite dry comedy bone, which is underpinned by her excellent timing.

The mission may have been accomplished, but too many casualties have occurred along the way. And when those losses concern storytelling quality, we could hardly consider it a success. The absence of stronger tradecraft makes The Spy That Came In From The Cold a sleeper agent in a theatrical manner — there’s a latent potential, but the creatives haven’t cracked the code to access it yet. And no matter how much bugging the recount may involve, there are a few bugs they should get rid of immediately.

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All pictures credit to Johan Persson.

The Spy Who Came From The Cold plays at London’s Soho Place until 21st February. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara