In Steven Spielberg’s Bridge of Spies, Tom Hanks is drawn as suddenly and randomly into the world of international espionage as a Hitchcock hero, but instead of dealing with physical danger like North By Northwest’s Roger O. Thornhill, Hanks’ attorney hero, James Donovan, must navigate the moral hazards of the Cold War.
After an exciting opening sequence that shows both the tradecraft and capture of Brooklyn-based Soviet spy Rudolf Abel (a scene-stealing Mark Rylance), insurance attorney Donovan is enlisted to defend Abel in court, precisely because he is unaffiliated with the government - to show the world the impartiality of American justice. Donovan takes his case far more seriously than anyone expects, appealing all the way to the Supreme Court while earning enmity from the public. Meanwhile, intercut scenes show the training of U2 spy plane pilots, including Francis Gary Powers (Austin Stowell). When Powers is captured by the Soviets, Donovan (again nominally independent from the U.S. government) is sent to Berlin to arrange an exchange of Abel for Powers. This difficult task is made even more complicated by the murky relationship between the USSR and East Germany and by an American college student who finds himself on the wrong side of the new wall.
The execution of the story is typically Spielbergian in ways both good and bad. The production values are impeccable, the physicality of both midcentury New York and Berlin are evoked in lush cinematography while Spielberg also conveys the anxieties of their inhabitants (some scenes taking place along the newly built Berlin Wall are especially excellent). But Bridge of Spies is attempting to put the Spielberg stamp on film noir, and the two styles are oil and water. Visually, Spielberg and longtime DP Janusz Kaminski revel in the interplay of light and dark, but to the wrong ends. Instead of finding menace in the shadows, a nighttime pursuit along a rain-drenched street becomes distractingly beautiful and in other scenes they use so much light as to almost blow out the image. The result is often visually striking, but seldom does it authentically channel the disconcerting ambiguity of film noir, a flaw echoed in the narrative.
The script gives ample chances to cast doubt on the moral certainties of Donovan and midcentury America (Did Powers reveal secrets? Will Abel’s homecoming gift be a bullet to the brain? Are political concerns trumping the Constitution?), but Spielberg whisks away these mildly subversive thoughts as quickly as they arise. This overwhelming moral confidence is hardly unexpected from Spielberg, but it’s grating in a film that takes place in the cracks between nations, negotiating the emerging boundaries of the Cold War world, with the Berlin Wall as the fault line.
Overall, Bridge of Spies is a highly polished and engaging piece of populist entertainment. It’s a good film, only frustrating because it makes gestures towards being something more. Spielberg’s technical skills as a filmmaker are beyond question, but his unwillingness to challenge his audience and embrace moral ambiguity keep Bridge of Spies from being great.
