And so we find ourselves in a full-circle moment: Jonathan Pine, first seen navigating through Tahrir Square on his way to work, has now traversed another conflict zone to return to Cairo's Hotel Nefertiti, where his final consciousness stirrings resulted in the demise of the woman he sought to protect. Roper and Jed are residing in the very suite where Sophie Alekan met her fate, while Pine braces himself for the aftermath of yet another failed operation, perhaps his last and best chance to seek justice for her, for England, and for the world. (Unless he's a double agent, in which case he has triumphed unequivocally.) (No, he's not a double agent.)
The return to Cairo also presents an opportunity to reflect on one of the most significant alterations in John le Carré's novel: updating the action to mirror the present-day turmoil in the Middle East. From a plotting perspective, these changes have been seamlessly integrated, tying our hero (and our villains) to important real-world events such as the resignation of Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak and the plight of Syrian refugees. It makes sense for Pine, in a professional capacity, to serve the wealthy Westerners from a five-star hotel in Cairo, just as it does for Roper, in a criminal capacity, to exploit regional instability to sell loose arms to the highest bidder.
However, it's time to pose a rhetorical question: How much does The Night Manager care about any of this stuff? Despite its many virtues—first-rate performances, well-oiled plot mechanics, a jaundiced perspective on the death-dealing elite—political engagement is not one of them. Where the film adaptation of le Carré's The Constant Gardener committed to a sharp critique of Big Pharma's abuses in Africa, The Night Manager's Middle Eastern politics feel mostly like window dressing, a surface-level attempt for relevance sourced from headlines. Much like Pine confidently navigating through the turmoil at the beginning, the show is more associated with real-world chaos than connected to it. That may be a consequence of telling a story about an arms dealer who is removed from the carnage he causes, but the point still stands.
Consider, for instance, tonight's journey to "The Haven," a Syrian refugee camp that doubles as a cover for Roper's nefarious operation. We knew that Roper's activism on war refugees was a PR gloss on his black-market business, which makes meaningful contributions to the despots who turn innocent civilians into refugees. To have a place like "The Haven" exist as camouflage for mercenaries, illegal arms deals, and "fireworks" does elevate Roper to the status of real-world supervillain. But there's so much narrative business in The Night Manager that the show doesn't linger long enough to give a deep impression of the conditions on the ground. Later, a village supposedly "cleared" for arms testing leads to the death of an elderly person. The outrage of that tragedy isn't felt either.
But what a spectacle! Roper's product demonstration, with its anti-tank and surface-to-air missiles and its "grand finale" of village-leveling napalm, makes for a spectacular Who's Who of destruction. It's also the most tangible understanding we've had yet of Roper's business and its potential for doing harm on a massive scale. In his "Andrew Birch" persona, Pine sells it as the slick piece of stagecraft that it is, all while barely obscuring his fear and revulsion. At "The Haven," Pine comes to terms with the full extent.
As Pine's ascendancy over Corky within Roper's inner circle progressed, it was a difficult tale to swallow. The whispers reaching Roper's ears that his confidential sales documents, shared only with himself and Sandy, had somehow leaked to Angela Burr, fueled his suspicion of Pine's true motives to a feverish pitch. This episode underscored the stark reality: Roper, perhaps aware of Pine's mole status, had been playing a double-game with his adversaries, a maneuver that now, with Roper's ruse exposed, threatened both the operation and Pine's very existence. (The alternative—that Roper's "anyone can betray anyone" credo applied equally to all in his inner circle—made little sense in the context.) For Burr, the collapse of the sting operation might be the final straw, yet River House wields the hammer as much as Roper does. With Rex Mayhew, her steadfast ally and confidant, facing a mandatory reassignment with the royals, Burr finds herself without resources or trustworthy allies in high places. Like Pine, she has sought to operate in the shadows, outside Roper's vast sphere of influence, but both have been drawn into the glare of the spotlight. As Operation Limpet disintegrates in London and Cairo, The Night Manager nears its final hour with justice seemingly out of reach. For now, survival is the best-case scenario.
