Films > Film Reviews

Bridge of Spies

28/11/15

A new Steven Spielberg film is always an interesting prospect. There’s no doubting the man’s visual and technical prowess, and no one would argue his influence on modern cinema, but which Spielberg are we going to get? Will it be blockbuster-populist Spielberg (Jaws, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Jurassic Park)? Will it be gritty-realist Spielberg (Saving Private Ryan, Munich, Lincoln)? Will it be Sci-Fi pioneer Spielberg (Minority Report, War of the Worlds, AI)? Will it be important Spielberg (Schindler’s List, The Color Purple, Amistad)? Or will it be guff Spielberg (Hook, 1941, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull)? Well, I’m sorry to report that with Bridge of Spies we get a film which, in its first act, promises important Spielberg, but then collapses into a bit of a guffy mess. 

But let’s talk about that first act, because it really is quite extraordinary: It’s 1957, the height of the Cold War, and the Berlin Wall is being erected (even though the Berlin Wall wasn’t erected until late 1961). The CIA apprehend a Brooklyn-dwelling Russian agent - fantastically portrayed by our own Mark Rylance - whom Tom Hanks’ insurance lawyer is given the unenviable task of defending (by which I mean Tom Hanks plays an insurance lawyer given the unenviable task of defending the Russian spy, not that the lawyer who takes care of Tom Hanks’ insurance is given the unenviable task of defending the Russian spy. That would be odd). 

So far so good. Rylance and Hanks’ chemistry is palpable, and the film is never better than when these two share the screen. Also, for post-Guantanamo America, the idea that a nation should be judged on how it treats its captured enemies seems almost subversive, and the notion that American justice must be universal if it is to mean anything at all has never been so necessary. The film speaks of a time (or, maybe, of a mind-set) where good men stand up for what’s right (godammit!), even in the face of public vilification and media condemnation. See? Important Spielberg. 

Then, unfortunately, the tits fall off. A completely unnecessary and incongruous action sequence in which an American spy-plane is shot down over enemy territory is as jarring for us as it is for the hapless sky-jockey, and from there-on-in we get Hanks frowning in various offices in Berlin, negotiating with various (admittedly wonderfully performed) Eastern-blockers, trying to secure the exchange of spy for pilot. Oh, and there’s a totally unnecessary sub-plot with an American student who also needs to be sprung, which does nothing for the film except increase the running time and dilute our sympathy. 

And that’s where Bridge of Spies really fails. In the first act, it is justice itself which is in danger, and we cared about that. In the rest of the film it’s a couple of bumbling unfortunates who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and about whom we’re never really afforded the opportunity to give a fuck. 

It’s a shame, because somewhere in all this there’s a truly brilliant film trying to escape. Unfortunately, Spielberg machine-guns it to death before it can even climb the wall.