Johnnie Kerr

A most unlikely hero

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What is it about George Smiley that makes him translate so well onto the screen? The man doesn't fight, he doesn't gamble, and he barely seems to notice women (apart from the wife who continually cuckolds him) — in fact the only hobby that appears to brighten him up a bit is a homely interest in old books. For a spy novel this is not what you might call 'a winning formula' — although, of course, clearly it is.

Actually, John le Carré invention of Smiley as the 'anti-Bond' was a conception near to genius, a literary masterstroke that proved spies didn’t have to dodge bullets to be thrilling. But the idea that such a character might make good reading and good watching seems less fanciful than downright preposterous. Here is a character who affords his directors no car chases, no (or at least, very little) sex appeal, and is never once seen brandishing a gun concealed cleverly inside a fountain pen. It beggars belief. Yet, since he first emerged on paper, the sombre spy has managed somehow to vault over radio to film in one spectacular bound. He has appeared, under different guises, in five films and two television series, and has been played by the likes of James Mason, Denholm Elliot, Simon Russell Beale, Alec Guinness and now, by that guru of Brit character actors, Gary Oldman.

Way back in the seventies, when John Irving was casting about for the perfect Smiley for his TV mini-series of Tinker, Tailor, he could not, for obvious reasons, have chosen an action man. Presumably, the main difficulty facing him was to find someone quiet, slow and mysterious, but, for Christ’s sake, not boring. The answer? To get someone good, really good — one of those ageing wizards of the Olivier generation. Today, Alec Guinness seems an obvious choice; but in fact they were lucky to get him. Not only was he then pushing seventy, but it was well known that he simply didn’t ‘do television’. What persuaded him to do it, goodness knows. But one wonders what shape, if any, the cult of the Smiley stories might have taken had another, less gifted actor given a different, less mesmerizing performance.

Spies, in their transition from novels to films, are almost always corrupted by the re-interpretation. And, in fairness, this rule is not exclusive to spies — all characters, especially recurring ones, tend to develop in unforeseen ways. Take Bond, a character who, it has long been accepted, can transform his appearance and personality every few years more seamlessly than Dr Who. But even in Bond’s first films Sean Connery delivered a portrayal quite unrecognizable from the hard, self-loathing character in his novels. There must be scores of writers who have covered their faces in shame for what their best-beloved characters have been made into by actors, but John le Carré isn’t one of them. The array of names beside his character is perfectly satisfactory – when you look closely there are at least a couple of Oscar / Olivier award winners in there, and a whole bunch of nominees. Smiley, partly because of his nature and partly thanks to brilliant casting, has built an incorruptible reputation for himself.