To date, ten novels by John le Carré have been adapted for the big screen, beginning with the 1965 classic "The Spy Who Came in from the Cold" and continuing with critically acclaimed thrillers such as 2005's "The Constant Gardener," 2011's "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy," and 2014's "A Most Wanted Man" (with the upcoming "Our Kind of Traitor" slated for release later this year). The fact that le Carré has been brought to television five times by British producers in the form of "The Night Manager" is a testament to his popularity, wit, and craftsmanship in writing spy tales that are both realistic and politically relevant. However, a half-century after that first film, it's worth considering: Is adapting le Carré such a great idea?
Based on my experience as a reader and viewer (though not comprehensive in either department), adapting le Carré can lead filmmakers down two perilous paths. They can attempt to replicate the droll tone and creeping paranoia of his books, which risks losing the audience in arcane plotting and the suffocating backrooms of spy agencies. Alternatively, in the name of mass-market entertainment, they can streamline the material too ruthlessly and risk losing le Carré's unique voice. The better adaptations, like "The Spy Who Came in from the Cold" and "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy," stuck close to le Carré in both letter and spirit, but fidelity did not always serve "The Russia House" or "A Most Wanted Man" as well.
Now that "The Night Manager" has moved past the sleek setup of its first hour, it's becoming clear that the series is more akin to "The Constant Gardener," a muscular international thriller with faint echoes of le Carré's tone and language. Writer David Farr and director Susanne Bier have extracted the characters and plotting from le Carré's book—with some notable changes in the present-day setting and Burr's gender—but abandoned its arch sophistication in favor of a glamorous, Eurotrash cat-and-mouse game.
A familiarity has begun to take over now that Jonathan Pine, our dashing hotelier, has essentially become an undercover super-agent to take down the "worst man in the world." The specificity of le Carré's work is swallowed up by the high-stakes clash between Pine and Richard Roper, which has a slightly more generic flavor. On the other hand, no one could accuse this episode of getting bogged down in stuffy agency intrigue. Farr's script uses a slip in time to keep the tension high from the start.
Opening on Roper's seaside compound in Mallorca, Spain, the episode kicks off with a crucial suspense set piece: Roper, his wife Jed, and their young son are breaking bread with various lieutenants and goons when armed men attempt to stage a robbery. Given Roper's stature and security detail, it seems like the most ill-advised operation since Pumpkin and Honey Bunny attempted to stick up the diner in "Pulp Fiction." But crucially, Roper loses control of the situation, and the men take his son hostage. Even more crucially, the camera settles on Tom Hiddleston's unmistakable blue-green eyes as he peers through a crack in the kitchen door, poised to take action.
"Episode Two" deftly establishes their intricate rapport through a mere few exchanges. Burr's pep talk, laced with a warning, resonates with an authenticity that doubles as a manifesto for their righteous mission: "Not an hour will pass without you feeling the fear," she intones, her words a compelling testament to the righteousness of their cause. Colman effortlessly sells both Pine and the audience on Burr's unwavering clarity of purpose as a masterful operative. However, the journey from their initial meetings to Roper's compound six months later is hastily and sloppily sketched.
Burr skillfully orchestrates Pine's criminal record, including the bold heist of 40,000 euros from the hotel vault. Yet, the journey from Devon to Mallorca is shrouded in a haze of vagueness. Pine deals drugs, establishes himself as a rugged individual, indulges in a fling, and even boasts of his culinary prowess. With these sparse threads of connection, we are abruptly whisked forward to the pivotal scene that opens the episode.
The mini-twist in the narrative is the revelation that the robbery was staged by Burr's agents, designed to cement Pine's position within Roper's organization and leave Roper indebted to him for saving his son's life. This too-perfect ascendancy raises red flags for Lance Corkoran, Roper's ruthless enforcer, who threatens to hang Pine by his "lovely ankles" until the truth spills out like gravity. Even Roper looks askance at this stranger, despite his impressive feats of violence on Roper's behalf. "You sleep now and tomorrow we'll find out who you really are," he says as he tucks Pine into bed. Trust within Roper's inner circle is a precious commodity indeed.
