The Spy Who Came In From The Cold at Chichester’s Minerva Theatre – review

With the Cold War at its very worst and the newly built Berlin Wall slicing its way through Germany like a wretched scar on the face of Europe, John Le Carré was picking his way through the messy and lonely world of subterfuge and intelligence as he spied for the British intelligence services during the 1960s. As Le Carré became further entrenched, he began writing his spy novels, not based on true stories but inspired by real experiences.  

What was clear to Le Carré was there was neither romance nor glamour in the world of spying, and in his most famous literary creation, the lethal yet seemingly unassuming George Smiley, he created a man that was not only very ordinary but was also very lonely – with not an ounce of James Bond style allure. The world of spying and espionage is a “dirty business” that Le Carré was under no illusions about.   

This all feels like it belongs in the history books as we see the Cold War through the annuls of time, yet here we are some 60 years later, once more teetering at the brink of something terrible with Russia. Intelligence services are presumably doing whatever it is they do, hopefully for our benefit, with who knows what oversight or moral diligence. And if that seems fantastical, let’s not forget that it was only as recently as 2018 that the sleepy town of Salisbury witnessed Russian operatives poisoning people virtually in plain sight. 

It’s a fascinating backdrop onto which Jeremy Herrin directs this first ever stage adaptation of Le Carré’s 1963 novel. David Eldridge is a self-confessed spy nerd and has adapted the novel for the stage. Eldridge’s deference for La Carré’s writing is obvious but results in a complicated and not always clear narrative as he plots the story of Alec Leamas (Rory Keenan), a burnt-out spy that wants to give it all up. He is recruited for one last job that will test his metal and that takes twists and turns that nobody expects, namely falling in love. His task is to immerse himself into wrack and ruin to such an extent that the enemy will attempt to turn him, thus giving him access to take out the lethally effective head of East Germany’s Secret Service, Mundt (Gunnar Cauthery) an assassin and an ex-Nazi.  

George Smiley (John Ramm) lurks in the shadows of a Checkpoint Charlie style border crossing watching the double crossings and dirty dealings unfold. Is he merely observer or manipulator? I’m not going to reveal that here, but as he says “intelligence work is justified by its results” it reveals a cold and calculating side to an otherwise mild-mannered man. It begs the question, if we believe the aim to be good, should we behave in the same callous and deadly way as our enemy? 

There are some really quite enthralling performances on display. Keenan in particular is superb as Leamas, a man that has witnessed too much and has wrestled his conscience one too many times. Having witnessed the death of one of his ‘assets’ and friends at the hands of the deadly Mundt, it is no wonder that he falls for the comforting arms of Agnes O’Casey’s bright and impressionable Liz. 

Eldridge fills his script with exposition that becomes entangled with flashback devices and imagined conversations. The wordiness of it all never allows the drama to really breath, and although the performances all sizzle with danger, Herrin’s direction remains fairly static. Max Jones’ rather uninteresting designs are compensated by Elizabeth Purnell’s much more evocative soundscape that simmers in the background. 

It’s an intriguing and murky world and Le Carré looks unflinchingly at it. As Smiley says “spies do disagreeable things, sometimes wicked things, so that people can sleep safely in their beds”. Whether that is of comfort or not, only you can decide.