Amazing Adaptations: Tomas Alfredson's 'Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy'

When ageing, world-weary men start remembering their favourite nursery rhymes, something is clearly wrong. 

John Le Carre understood that perfectly well when writing what would go on to be the definitive espionage novel centring on the Cold War and the conundrums that it involved for an unwieldy Britain caught between the twin superpowers. And so, instead of having an intelligence superior who handed out brisk orders and commands for a dangerous mission, he had Control, the decadent, wizened yet still prophetic head of British intelligence, christen the men under him, each suspected of being a deep-rooted mole in the Circus, with the silly names of people in his favourite limerick. 

Thus was born 'Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy', a beautifully crafted, elegiacally brooding and brilliantly suspenseful spy novel that relies on the most immaculate of plot devices: information. Fans of Ian Fleming and the like can fume at the fact that, for about the whole of this elaborately dense narrative puzzle, Le Carre's cloaked spies do little more than talk, remember, talk again and come to shattering conclusions. The typically intense yet markedly unglamorous storyteller has brought in his own share of thrills and spills but 'Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy' is a wholly different beast of a book, a dazzling blend of layer and layer of vital information, organic memory and inconvenient truths.

That does not mean, however, that it is not even a bit exciting. The writer plays all his trademark strokes here with startling finesse; the book's twists and turns hinge brilliantly on his meticulously orchestrated reveals while it also boasts of a series of quietly devastating sequences that squeeze tension out of the most cramped places. And each of the creations, as well as the very real buzz of the proceedings, lending it an air of a corporate office with its own politics, keep the reader riveted till the end. 

It is a tall order to make an adaptation that captures all of this brilliantly and credit should go to Tomas Alfredson, along with his writers Bridget O'Connor and Peter Straughan, to get so much of the gist of the source right. There are hardly any major deviations in the basic outline to begin with. George Smiley is asked to step out of retirement to investigate a theory, nursed by a deceased Control, that the Circus was indeed infiltrated by a high-level informant trained by Russia. If you expect that the whole thing sounds dashing, something on the scale of an agent ready again to fire bullets and have a Martini, well you are mistaken since both the book and the film see Smiley on the periphery with his watchful eyes, unravelling slowly an intricate game of subterfuge that has imposing shadows over past secrets and present suspicions. 

The choice of casting Gary Oldman as Smiley was originally questioned by a few (Le Carre had once stated that the character was created with Sir Alec Guiness in mind and so it had been him in the TV series). But all doubts go out of the window, once someone will witness how devastatingly brilliant his performance, in all its subtlety and empathetically cold-blooded intelligence, actually is. I actually hailed Oldman's stellar turn as the finest performance of 2011 even as Jean Dujardin grabbed all the praise the same year and regarding what the fine English actor has done all these years in roles ranging from intriguing characters in mainstream films to compelling screen villains of all shades, it should be have been a clinch. A few could complain that he looks like a leaner, meaner version of what was typically a stocky, palpably decadent veteran agent that was once played on the screen by Denholm Elliott. But whatever comes to the film adaptation is simply unforgettable.

As to further let Oldman sink into the quintessential Smiley essence, one of stoic indifference yet razor-sharp intuition, Alfredson also hand over the meatiest moments of the narrative to him. Even when he is listening silently to the others recount their pieces of the central jigsaw puzzle, the film seethes with a palpable electric energy. As the film progresses, we see more of Smiley talk and open up, reveal all his dark demons and also evolve into the film's unlikely hero, a crusader of the truth in a basket full of rotten eggs. It is at this juncture that 'Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy' takes a bit of liberty from Le Carre's original plan for his character. In any of the Smiley novels, the man is rarely a hero worthy of redemption, a man who was even a bit responsible for upsetting the apple cart in 'The Spy Who Came In From The Cold' but the film humanises him to a further extent and with poignant effect. We see Smiley as one belonging from an older tradition, clearly a product of Control's legacy, who also wishes to defend that tradition to his deathbed. He is here pitted against the men ruling the roost in the new age and it is this implicit clash between the old and the new that also defines the rare emotional crux of the novel as well.

Straughan and O'Connor also play and tweak around with the original template of the book to give it a more linear flow which is a reasonable gambit to let Le Carre virgins a fairly balanced introduction to his archetype world of spies, where information is the choice of weapon and the casualties are disillusionment, disgrace and, inevitably, anonymity. In the book, the plot begins with Ricki Tarr's account of his misadventure in Hong Kong that contains a lethal secret and then we see Smiley, aided by Peter Guilam, diving right away into the intricate maze of clues of the mystery. The book also begins to draw up a parallel between the ongoing investigation and the lives and relationships of the characters caught in the fray, Guilam's melancholic brooding over the changing times, Smiley's wry remembering of a time now gone and the sparks between the new lineup at Circus after Control's death. The adapted script streamlines these elements, obliterates almost the whole of the subplot involving Jim Prideaux (a terrific Mark Strong) and geeky schoolboy Bill and turns Guilam into a slick, spiffy-looking agent secretly nursing a possible homosexual relationship and played by Benedict Cumberbatch. Homosexuality, too, is brought up more than once in the film in implicit ways, the way how Prideaux and Bill Haydon stare longingly at each other in the gala parties depicted in the film.

To give credit where it is due, 'Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy' functions as a superbly well-oiled adaptation that leaves quite a lot of Le Carre's elements even with things that get trimmed considerably. The choice of altered locations-Czechoslovakia transplanted to misty Budapest and Hong Kong replaced by sleazy Istanbul-feels inspired as well and the film is stunningly shot, with lensman Hoyte Van Hoytema's splendid long-takes and textured landscapes capturing both a globe-trotting feel and a bureaucratic, authentically grimy mechanics of a workplace seething with unseen rivalries. The plot motors along with a solid confidence, setting up an intriguing mystery and building up a solid background before we finally see Smiley and the others do their bit, exchanging bits and pieces of conversations and flashbacks that all come together to tie up the strands in a most satisfying way. What is also notable is that the film does feel like a profoundly moral tale, a tale of a victory of honesty over dishonesty and the climax, even as it is tinged with sadness, is nevertheless celebratory. To be honest, however, the film's mesmeric, almost leisurely yet glacial pace is like a deliberate concession to the markedly gritty and introspective essence of the original and that itself is one of the few decisions that don't seem quite perfect. Say whatever you want to about Le Carre's attention on character and milieu over action and plotting but his book, even today, feels effortlessly thrilling. 

A few other niggles in Alfredson's version include reducing almost the whole of the supporting cast of people in the Circus to simply plot-points and little else. We see preciously little of the age-old conflict of opinion between Percy Alleline and Control, though the film takes care to keep Control's distaste of Americans intact. We also don't quite get a glimpse into the lives and secrets of each of these men, whereas in the book Le Carre made sure to flesh out even Roy Bland and Toby Esterhase with skill to make them credible creations under the radar of Smiley's suspicions. Also, Connie Sachs' palpable enthusiasm with getting her hands on Polyakov is brushed aside here conveniently, turning her from a wizened old mother hen obsessed morbidly with her prey into a woman who is too smart for her own benefit. One of the best qualities of the book is Le Carre's ultimate mastery of perspective; the point of view changes dynamically from character to character and helps to give a well-rounded, almost organically dimensional insight into each plot proceeding. In the film, however, the perspective is Smiley's alone and we follow only him, which is fine but we also never quite know how other characters are dabbling with the central mystery and what it entails.

Nevertheless, what should be said is how well the film version of 'Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy' brings out the core of emotions which were somewhat concealed beneath the labyrinthine plotting in the book. Along with Smiley, Ricki Tarr emerges as a surprisingly tender and vulnerable character in Alfredson's take, embodied superbly by Tom Hardy's heartfelt and beautifully underplayed performance. Also, his dalliance with Irina is also infused with more romance than evident in the source. Instead of playing as a lonely, beleaguered wife with a tell-tale heart as in the novel, Irina here has the essence of a femme fatale from a noir classic. These decisions and even marginal enhancements make 'Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy' such a worthy adaptation of what should be called as a landmark moment in the spy novel genre. 

There Will Be Blood- Barnstorming, Breathtaking And Brilliant

Speech is silvern but silence is golden.

Paul Thomas Anderson knows that well. 

And so, the first twenty minutes of his epic 'There Will Be Blood' are nearly without a word or even so much as a wasted gesture or movement. That might remind you of the stunning, compelling prelude in Sergio Leone's 'Once Upon A Time In The West', except for the fact that there is not even an Ennio Morricone score or gunslingers waiting for a train on the screen. All we get to see is one man with a pickaxe hunting for silver rather than the unlikely gold that will make him one day a millionaire without a heart.

We see him down a mineshaft, diligently digging up rocks and discovering a shard that glitters like chrome and, just when we think that he will get his hands on it without a hiccup, the film has Daniel Plainview breaking his leg in a ghastly accident. And while we see him gasp and moan in despair, let's not forget that it might be the last time when we are rooting for him to live.

Because it does not take time for this laconic, relentlessly determined prospector to transform into a hard-hearted scavenger who now lusts for the gold that will lead him to both his rise and fall: the black, oozing liquid gold known as oil. 

'There Will Be Blood' is the hypnotically extraordinary story of this man, of his ruthless ambition and all his inner demons as they spill out and paint the grand canvas with strokes of greed, treachery and the eponymous brutality. It is bloody impossible to like a man like Plainview; it is just as impossible to look away from what he does, thanks to Anderson and the man bringing him to life. But I am getting ahead of myself. 

As the sands of time flow, and as oil becomes the new symbol of power and capitalism, we see Plainview playing his meticulous game. He goes from village to village in the still-evolving Californian countryside, coaxing the honest, hard-working folks of these areas to give away their land while he builds gushing derricks that can have him soaked in all that black wealth. He has a gift for words, letting them roll out with a rough-edged yet velvety accent belonging to John Huston or any of those cinematic prospectors of yore. And he has H.W, the orphaned son of his erstwhile oil digger, whom he uses as a smiling, earnest face to convince that he is no scam. 

There is little that this man delights in; there are no women around, there is alcohol but only perfunctory and does he even care a bit for his ward? Oh, but he loves oil and you can see his bouncy glee when the said treasure comes up from beneath the earth surging like a tide. 

But Anderson, a storyteller as obsessed yet brilliantly dynamic as the protagonist himself, does not stop there. He pitches Plainview into the brilliantly constructed stage of a clash of mind and method. The self-confessed, trenchantly entrepreneurial businessman receives a tip that there is oil in the barren region of Little Boston. Off he goes, aided with H.W and his crew to play his game but someone seems to know all his dark secrets and all hell is let loose. 

That man is Eli Sunday, a budding pastor whose equally obsessively devout father willingly surrenders his ranch to Plainview's evil designs. Eli, though, is no fool and he clearly gets beneath the wily capitalist's skin of affability. It is their battle of minds and egos that the film, adapted only crucially and not wholly from Upton Sinclair's 'Oil', captures with both big, bold strokes; there is Plainview's undisguised disgust and even hideous fear of the faith and there is Eli's sly and insidious knowledge of the snake-oil salesman beneath the other man's veneer of honesty. It is also a battle etched in astounding nuance: Plainview insults Eli by dismissing his sermons as nonsensical while the latter retaliates by holding the other hostage to the dark secrets of his soul. The two clearly know the game that the other is playing.

It also paves the way for an unexpectedly symbiotic relationship that seems to be the trademark of Anderson's typically enthralling character-driven cinema. Enmity and mutual hatred aside, the two men, both of whom are liars lining up their respective pockets, cannot live or even succeed without each other. It is a morbidly fascinating equation, something that the writer-director fashioned as well in the homoerotic spark between the two central men in 'The Master' and the love-hate bond between hippie detective Doc Sportello and straight-up Renaissance cop Bigfoot Bjornsen and the results have always been spectacular, but not quite as sensational as the way he ratchets up the unease between them. 

The greatest character studies need monumental craft to bolster their fierce, no-holds-barred storytelling and 'There Will Be Blood' lunges for this, going far out on a limb on a visual and aural format that feels both larger-than-life yet real, both incredible yet intimate. Anderson regular Robert Elswit shoots the film with a scorching, sunbaked and soiled intensity, lingering poetically over gallons of the black liquid drawn from murky wells and frenetically zooming on the hustle and bustle of men and mechanisms. At times, Anderson lets his frames soak in the silences and the result is a visual style that borders on being haunting when the stage is set for a big confrontation. At the same time, the film looks visually immersive in its gritty beauty.

On his part, Anderson piles up the drama and the fireworks, aided in no small measure by Jonny Greenwood's extraordinary, elegiac score. The plot is a slow, leisurely brood over a campfire, letting Plainview succumb slowly but steadily to almost sociopathic alienation, but there is an overwhelming sense of darkness enveloping each new turn or twist. Random accidents happen, a derrick catches fire and people lose their lives and the director etches all his brutal, bloody touches with the bellowing power and sweeping spectacle of a Biblical epic. The canvas feels large and oddly metaphorical with the evolution of a money-minded culture that would dominate the country and yet the perspective is utterly human and devastating. 

All the actors are extraordinary, with my special mention going to three solid performers who form a perfect supporting cast. Paul Dano, as Eli Sunday (as well as his unassuming twin Paul), is a real treat, a young actor who sinks into the repulsive, even horrifying skin of his sweet-faced yet stone-hearted false prophet. His almost manic gospel propels the film to sheer devilish insanity while his quiet, seething anger adds a throbbing streak of menace. 

Newcomer Dillon Freasier is splendid as a quiet and reserved H.W who cannot help but devote his life, dignity and love to a man whom he, and us in the process, cannot fully fathom. And Kevin J. O'Connor is compelling as a quite, mild-mannered unlikely ally to Plainview who may or may not be his long-lost brother. 

And yet, just like there can be no 'Citizen Kane' without Orson Welles and no 'Taxi Driver' without Robert De Niro, this is, ultimately, Plainview's tale and Daniel Day-Lewis' film. The ace performer has dabbled in repulsive yet utterly believable villainy before, creating the unforgettable Bill 'The Butcher' Cutting. But as Plainview, a man with a silver-coated, slithery tongue, a mind full of ambition and bravado and a heart turning into rock, he is simply unforgettable, both as a man we would love to hate and a man whom we cannot ever forget.

It is in every way a grandly Machiavellian performance, from the way he grins in cynicism, the way his unblinking eyes flare up in anger and the way he sizes up foes and skeptics with scathing words right down to the deliberately ravenous outbursts of rage and mocking humiliation that he lashes out at everyone. But the beauty of it lies in the graceful subtlety that the actor gets so right. His delight at the glimpse of his favourite treasure is as winningly convincing as the stray moments of pure heart and warmths that Anderson hands him, including one heartbreaking moment when he reminisces of his childhood memories with a gushing sincerity. It is a miraculous, indelible performance. 

'There Will Be Blood' concludes with an epic standoff between materialism and faux religion in a ferociously stunning climax where chaos reigns and the titular blood is literally spilled on the floor. It is a moment of grandstanding filmmaking, of something as subversive as Anderson has handed us before; think of the rain of frogs in 'Magnolia' or the unashamedly raunchy mirror scene of 'Boogie Nights'. However, that is of course expected from a director now fully aware of the power of his own cinematic blows and it is goddamn one hell of a show to see him and Plainview, as Mick Jagger would say, 'paint the whole world black'.

My Rating- 5 Stars Out Of 5

Ten Unconventionally Great Films From The 1990s

10- JFK (1991)

Oliver Stone is one of the unsung greats, judging his seminal work in the 1980s (‘Platoon’, ‘Salvador’ and ‘Born On The Fourth Of July’), people seems to have forgotten that because of the mostly subpar films that he has made recently. But while the actual credibility of his adaptation of Jim Garrison’s controversial conspiracy theory behind the assassination of John F Kennedy is debatable, what is undeniable is that this was his last great film. With a running time of more than 3 hours and crammed with sensational information, endless twists and turns and firecracker dialogue, ‘JFK’ also brought to swirling life the tumultuous times of the shocking event. Robert Richardson’s thrilling, multi-layered cinematography and Pietro Scalia and Joe Hushing’s ruthless editing combine to blend reel and real life with flawless immediacy while the cast (Kevin Costner as Garrison, Gary Oldman as Lee Harvey Oswald and Tommy Lee Jones as Clay Bertrand) delivers throbbing emotional punch to the enthralling investigation.

9- Starship Troopers (1997)

Without Paul Verhoeven to make our Hollywood action and sex romps, everything feels so dull these days. Sure, the Dutch maverick has moved on to making high-calibre yet endlessly enthralling works like ‘Black Book’ and the recent ‘Elle’. However, ‘Starship Troopers’, like his equally rollicking and tongue-in-cheek ‘Robocop’, is one of those deliciously smartass films that laughs at the ridiculous ideas at its heart but also remembers to have a good time. In a perfectly advanced future, one which seems to be ruled by a dictatorship that loves a fair bit of bombast, Earth is attacked by aliens- who turn out to be giant arachnids who are also ravenously hungry. Playfully spoofing ‘Independence Day’, Verhoeven presents us, deliberately, a tale of age-old clichés- blonde boys and babes (including Denise Richards) fighting off entire armies of these creepy crawlies in battles that explode with over-the-top gore. As if that was not thrilling enough, watch out for those brutally effective Nazi in-jokes that escalate this from self-depreciation to brilliant satire.

8- The Usual Suspects (1995)

Before Bryan Singer disappeared into a surge of endless sequels and prequels to ‘X-Men’, he was a young filmmaker who was making his sensational breakthrough in a decade that was full of them. ‘The Usual Suspects’ is the very antithesis to the usually overblown but pompous superhero yarn that Singer serves us; it is gritty, markedly unglamorous and is the tale of a bunch of believably weary thugs who find themselves ensnared in a deadly game played by a super-villain named Keyser Soze. By the way, the film is all about an interrogation with the sole survivor of a deal gone wrong: Roger ‘Verbal’ Kint (played with timid, almost autistic credibility by Kevin Spacey). That’s it. Saying anything else will ruin the fun of watching this tight and terrifically acted yarn unravel in its own beauty. Christopher McQuarrie’s script, while enlivening, loses a bit of suspense on repeated viewings. But it is a delightfully nasty brainteaser leaving you frustrated yet smiling.

7- Casino (1995)

Everyone remembers ‘Goodfellas’ from the 1990s as the new creative peak reached by Martin Scorsese after a mostly inconsistent, though still exciting 1980s. But due to unreasonable comparisons, everyone nearly forgets the ferociously furious cinematic power of his epic-size follow-up to that undisputed gangster classic. Pairing again with actors Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci and co-writer Nicholas Pileggi, Scorsese rolled out his coldest and most magnificently ruthless film ever, a grand, gritty and gruesome tale of naked ambition and unabashed lust exploding in the glittering lights of Las Vegas. As smooth Ace Rothstein (De Niro), hot-headed Nicky Santoro (Pesci) and the unstable and devious Ginger (a stunning Sharon Stone) try to make their own killing from illegitimate wealth in a city owned by casinos and criminals, corpses are found at every corner, relationships are tested and an empire comes falling by the devastation of greed.  With eye-gouging visuals, incredible violence and a spectacular soundtrack, ‘Casino’ is a feast painted gloriously in blood.

6- In The Name Of The Father (1993)

All those who thought that the incredible Daniel Day-Lewis is only great in meaty, villainous roles need to watch Jim Sheridan's suitably gritty account of Gerry and Giuseppe Conlon's wrongful imprisonment and trial during the turbulent days of the IRA in the 1970s. Playing an impulsive, cocky and even slippery and scared Gerry, Day-Lewis proves quite why everyone calls him such an undisputed acting legend in the league of Brando and De Niro. His performance is alternately tender, boisterous and believably confused; yet, as his character evolves from a spoilt brat to a caring son and determined crusader, he also digs out a soul of tortured pain and vengeful fury. Other than that virtuoso act, Sheridan's film does feel a bit basic and its politics could have been more astute. Nevertheless, the raw emotional power and bruising intimacy of the tale delivers a solid punch. Also, watch out for Pete Postlethwaite as the silently seething Giuseppe Conlon providing the foil as the father.

5- Boogie Nights (1997)

Most cinephiles will cry out loud for 'Pulp Fiction' as being the ultimate audio-visual experience of the decade but they are all missing out on the sheer, deliriously anarchic cinematic fun that Paul Thomas Anderson brought in his breakout hit, a sizzling and suitably sleazy look at the porn industry of 1970s California and a wonderfully warm tale of family and friendship wrapped up together as one swinging party of laughter, chaos and unexpected emotional heft. Mark Wahlberg is sensational here as Dirk Diggler, a youngster chosen as a star of porn films meticulously filmed by producer Jack Horner (a terrific Burt Reynolds) and the film follows him and his incredibly large member on a bouncy tale along splendid ensemble cast:from reigning star-cum-divorced mother Amber Waves (Julianne Moore) to the disillusioned writer Little Bill (William H. Macy), here are people whom we feel for. Meanwhile, Anderson delivers a frolicsome style of visual storytelling, bolstered by Robert Elswit's gorgeously glossy cinematography and those smashing tunes.

4- Twelve Monkeys (1995)

Our science fiction and fantasy films feel either as serious as science lectures or as ridiculous as Ed Wood films. Terry Gilliam was one of those few gifted people who could tell tales with stunning imagination and shattering resonance. Adapting Chris Marker's seminal 'La Jettee' was a tall order; what is astounding is that Gilliam paired his twisted, darkly comic fantasy streak with a poignant and profoundly nuanced narrative by David and Janet Peoples. Bruce Willis proved that he was more than just a muscled hero; his tortured time traveler James Cole, investigating in vain the cause of a deadly viral outbreak, is him at his finest hour, as is relative newbie Brad Pitt playing loony Jeffrey Goines who may or may not be responsible for the same. Roger Pratt's hypnotic low-angle cinematography bring life to the director's typically bizarre style but rooting it all on solid, convincing ground is the beautiful Madeleine Stowe, playing a psychiatrist who soon questions the very existence of reason. 

3- Trainspotting (1996)

Forget 'Slumdog Millionaire'; if you want to watch a film in which British director Danny Boyle went truly ballsy and bold, try this mid-90s watershed moment of British, and even youth, filmmaking. Brilliantly and breathtakingly adapting Irvine Welsh' sordid saga of slackers soaked in the drug addiction scene of a changing Edinburgh, Boyle's turbo-charged meshes a cock-eyed glimpse at the city's filthy underbelly (that toilet scene will leave you reeling) along with a fiercely heartfelt portrait of the misguided young men at its crux, not least of Renton (a superb Ewan McGregor) who transforms from a hapless addict to a man determined to change. At a breathless and breakneck running time of 90 minutes, 'Trainspotting' does not even pause for a moment, charging at us with the heady and sinful thrill of an acid trip. It barrels us tirelessly with more blistering comedy, raw violence and crackling satire than any average movie can never match with all its effort. 

2- The Big Lebowski (1998)

It is rare to find one film by the Coen Brothers that all of us can laugh over. Their more sobering work ('Fargo', 'No Country For Old Men' and 'Inside Llewyn Davis') sits oddly against their full-fledged farces ('O Brother Where Art Thou?' and 'Barton Fink') and while they all are darkly comic in their ways, some of it does not always hold up well. But there are no arguments for 'The Big Lebowski'. The plot is pure, off-the-wall lunacy as Kahlua-swilling bum Jeffrey 'Dude' Lebowski (an endearingly tender Jeff Bridges) is tugged into a mind-boggling puzzle of an abduction that has Macguffins as bewildering as a severed toe and a bunch of nihilists who also moonlight as porn actors. Along the way, the director-writer duo take us along to a fabled and highly fantasised Los Angeles, shot in spaced-out and sleazy spirit by English lensman Roger Deakins and crammed with the kind of deliciously charming weirdos that only they can imagine. Also, look out for John Goodman's hot-headed rightwing Vietnam-vet Walter Sobchak.

1- Magnolia (1999)

Will Paul Thomas Anderson ever stop pushing boundaries of filmmaking? The fact that he followed up his epic, expansive and enthralling update of Robert Altman's 'Short Cuts' with such endlessly path-breaking films as 'There Will Be Blood' and 'The Master' demonstrates just how much he remains to be an incendiary, constantly challenging filmmaker of our times. But even as all of his work continues to confound and dazzle, there will be nothing at all like 'Magnolia'.

Timed like a Biblical epic, featuring a cast of one superlative performance after another and crammed with sensational and interlocking stories that deal with life, pain, disgust, death and redemption, 'Magnolia' might be called as the most subversively larger-than-life thing ever put on screen. Anderson credits the Beatles classic 'A Day In The Life' as an inspiration and indeed, it is his utterly devastating cocktail of tragedy, farce and happenstance that makes so much of his film a stunning explosion of emotion. 

Robert Elswit's relentless long-take cinematography and Aimee Mann's heartbreaking ballads couple with firecracker dialogue as the splendid actors all enact their travesties on the screen. And by the way, has Tom Cruise ever been better? His sleazy snake-oil salesman, torn apart by a hidden secret, might be his finest hour. 

Rangoon- Romance And Revolution, Bharadwaj Style

Near the end of 'Rangoon', after a series of grimly intense moments in a heart-pounding narrative, there is one unexpected moment that makes you smile in bemused wonder. 

It is a moment to be seen to be believed and I would not reveal it because I am not sure whether everyone will get the sheer clever wit of that scene. It would be enough to say that it is at that critical juncture, just when you know that all hope has run out for our characters, that Vishal Bharadwaj strips down the curtain between reel life and real life and offers cinematic escapism and flights of fancy as the only valid solution. 

And that, my friends, is 'Rangoon': a film that looks, at first glance, as a straight-up and even conventional star-crossed romance set to the backdrop of tumultuous history. Once you have settled down, however, with both handkerchiefs and history books, it pulls the rug beneath your feet, leaving you walking on a thrilling tightrope between pulp and period drama and the result is an enthrallingly original, even ingenious film that has its distinguished maker's signature stamped all over it. 

A gravelly-voiced narration announces us the events of India's scramble for freedom which builds up as the intriguing backstory to the film's main plot. We are told how, while the World War 2 was in full swing, Mahatma Gandhi and his burgeoning movement had declared a non-violent confrontation with the Empire but one man amidst the crowd decided to wage a full-scale war by allying with the enemy of the enemy. 

And that is enough historical explanation that is needed to kickstart the main plot. Silver screen sensation Miss Julia is egged by her producer-cum-lover, the suave and self-assured Rusi Billimoria, to scoot off to entertain the British troops stationed in war-torn Burma, where also awaiting funds for weapons is Bose' everyone Azad Hind Fauj. The stage is set then for a rattling yarn of blood and betrayal bolstered by an unexpected romance. Circumstances put Julia along with her supposed guard Jemadar Nawab Malik, a stern-faced and streetwise soldier who is chosen for his credentials of being brave enough to escape Japanese captivity. 

And, like that lovably melodious song chugging along with the train, 'Rangoon' begins to sail, a handsomely mounted period adventure and yet embellished with the same unmistakable strokes of Bharadwaj's keen attention to nuance and detail. There is an unmistakable whiff of classic Hollywood war-time romances to the film's eventful first half where we see Malik and Julia amble towards an inevitable yet closely guarded romance; the lush scenery is reminiscent of 'The African Queen' while the fundamental idea, of a lone soldier escorting a beautiful woman through the mists of war, is similar to Michael Mann's 'The Last Of The Mohicans'. But make no mistake: even with all these little cinematic touches, this is every a bit a Bharadwaj film. 

Evidence of it lies mostly in the way in which the director, armed with co-writers Sabrina Dhawan and Matthew Robbins, makes sure to paint the players of his drama in finely detailed and wonderfully believable strokes. Billimoria comes off as a swaggering prince in tuxedo, a man who is completely assured of his hold over Julia and yet the same who cannot quite help it when his father demands him to stay back. Julia, on the other hand, is all stoic and servile to her master's demands but prefers the company of her entourage of makeup artists and stagehands to hobnobbing with the gossiping guests at a party. 

Malik, on the other hand, is an even more of a compelling creation, a taciturn and even weary warrior who clearly knows his way around his battlefield but not quite sure about the workings of his own heart. Shahid Kapoor nails his character's inscrutability superbly, playing gamely a straight-faced, tight-lipped soldier whose frequently wistful eyes are hiding a horde of inconvenient truths. In one masterstroke of a moment, he hesitates with a startled expression on his face, before bowing down on his knees to plant a chivalrous kiss on Julia's hand. 

Bharadwaj has always demonstrated a Tarantino-like flair for warbling with facts and cramming his stories with enough whimsy and subversive fireworks to thicken the stew and 'Rangoon' is no different. It looks and sounds, in every justified way, like how would Tarantino take on a film like 'Casablanca', with the director puncturing the seriousness of certain pivotal scenes with a devilishly clever stroke of wit or some startling detail or quirk. The remarkable difference, here, is that all of his eye-popping touches here serve a purpose and are pointed and punchy. Before a dance number to entertain troops trapped in limbo, a pair of jesters play as Churchill and Hitler on a stage fashioned like the map of Europe and perform their own charades that mirror the real-life events outside the bubble. Similarly, when a character confesses by singing the Azad Hind Fauj version of 'Jana Gana Mana', another-a smarmy British military bigwig- is disgusted that Tagore's words have been wasted on a lost cause. 

Just how patriotic or emotional is it all? That might be a valid question and even as 'Rangoon' does not quite view these matters through the perspective of any of its love-lorn three leads, it nevertheless has the grace and subtlety to throw a light or two into the conflict itself by bringing believable life to even the smaller but equally crucial characters in the fray. British ace actor Richard McCabe plays here a deliciously rollicking screen villain in his Major General Harding, a pompous buffoon who is seemingly charmed with ghazals but does not hesitate to pull the trigger. On the other hand, we have Saharsh Shukla's Zulfi, Julia's helplessly loyal makeup man who also hides a potentially lethal secret that also takes this love-triangle premise into a wholly new and ingenious level.

'Rangoon' is also a film of superlative craftsmanship all around and Bharadwaj lavishes it in the favour of adding poetry and poignancy to each and every single frame. Cinematographer Pankaj Kumar, who also shot the extraordinary 'Haider', is in terrific form here and his visuals range beautifully from a gritty, handheld aesthetic that gives immediacy to the scenes of war and pursuit (an opening guerrilla skirmish is shot with an Emmanuel Lubezki-style fluidity of perspective and action) to incredibly detailed yet opulent epic scale. His compositions are overwhelmingly stunning; from the way his cameras zoom out thrillingly in midst of a moment of frenzy to capture a pivotal detail of a church bell to the way it ducks and sneaks stealthily between the prancing performers on the stage when Bharadwaj's elegantly entertaining musical ballads, with Gulzar's devilishly clever lyrics, start ruling the roost. 

The director, as usual, does not skimp on the nuances and his strokes here are even more profound and punchy than ever. The dialogue is superbly witty as ever; at one point, Billimoria points out calmly to his love that she is now Mrs. Billimoria, which means that she cannot act in films anymore. Even the cinematic tropes he employs are frequently intriguing. Miss Julia, who calls herself as 'untouchable', is introduced on a truly grand scale, as stagehands, camera operators and other technicians start singing out a song of heroine-worship for the screen goddess. It is a subversive, sensational touch, something that the likes of the Coen Brothers could have done. 

As it happens, this Julia deserves that kind of fanfare. Kangana Ranaut shines throughout the film as this dolled-up star who does not disguise her joy at being pampered and yet nurses a throbbing desire to break free from her gilded cage. It is a performance of both ribald pluck and genuine vulnerability and the wonder is how subtly does Ranaut capture both these facets, as she finds herself stumbling towards a forbidden romance even as she herself plunges head-first into the commitment of a marriage. Ably complimenting her is Saif Ali Khan's Rusi Billimoria in the film's best and most well-rounded performance. His suave yet believably naive urban prince is full of flaws and seething jealousies; his way to stand up with Julia against skepticism is to merely kiss her in public and the way he sizes her up when things are clearly going out of control is heart-breaking. But there is also something winningly warm about this dandy when he confesses that his own life is imprisoned inside her. He also emerges, unexpectedly, as the film's real moral compass.

'Rangoon' is not a film for everyone. The 167-minute running time can be a bit of a stretch especially when the film starts to brood rather than buzz and the climax, while handled impeccably with a dash of unconventional bravado, cannot be that easy to swallow especially after such fascinating credibility around. Still, being a film from a director who now does not ever let his own high standards dip, it is every bit as extraordinary, intelligent and even sufficiently dramatic as any ambitious spectacle could be. Bloody hell of a barnstormer, really.

My Rating- 4 and a half stars out of 5.