Wednesday, November 12, 2014

A Most Wanted Man (2014) or Beautiful Spies

He was drinking his whisky anxiously. He needed to calm down. Other spies, mightier and with more efficient networking qualities (what other people call ass-licking qualities) were way ahead him. With a fiasco in his pocket -defeated by the Americans, can you imagine?- he had to do it right this time around. 

The day has started quite ok, remember? He sipped coffee from his beloved Moomin cup, he looked confident, no matter the concerns. His team were eager supporters of fair play, dedicated to digging deep for truth and doing all sorts of dangerous deeds for the sake of elimination of danger. Innocent citizens out there deserved their lives of prolonged ignorance after all, why bother them? They have a bunch of other serious cases to work on, like breast-feeding vs bottle feeding, carrying arms in public and so on so forth.

A dumb blonde was involved. A foxy short-haired mature woman, too. So much preparation for nothing. The airbag opened. Thanks god he didn't crash. One nanosecond after, the prey was gone. He was left empty-handed yet again amidst the heavy traffic of Hamburg's rush hour. Desperate that the vision of "making the world a safer place" could be manipulated in so many ways.

* I watched the film in the beginning of autumn. One of the few OV screenings in a country used to dub all film releases, to make them more "same". And here it was, a film on the "other". Ow, how I love those ones. Frankfurt was dark and I was a total stranger, carrying bags of chocolate, nuts and yearning for the sun. They said the film was slow, but it was perfect for my mood at that time of day. It was not too innovative though, coming from Anton Corbijn who once did Control (2007) and impressed us. That was a long time ago anyways -maybe we were prone to be impressed back then. Performances were satisfying overall, even if Rachel McAdams was better off with The Notebook (2004) sort of films. Loved Vicky Krieps, our local star. This is a book adaptation, John Le Carré did it again; it must be an enjoyable read. One regret: why did fate had it so that Philip Seymour Hoffman would be a dreamer/loser in the last major film of his life? And not, say, a Happiness (1998) character? RIP, Philip, you are a winner, man, and you are dearly missed.

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