THERE BE SPOILERS, SO READERS BEWARE...
Now this movie has the rare distinction of being realistic and preposterous at the same time.
Allow me to explain. To begin with the "realistic" part, this is a spy movie in the Le Carré tradition, meaning that you get careful plotting, psychological manipulation and sombre amorality instead of gadgets, explosions, dolly birds. Moreover, the story is carefully embedded in a recognizable world where customs men check borders, where planes can be delayed and where tired people need sleep. This world also wears the scars, both visible and invisible, of real-life historical events, such as World War II or the division of Germany. (The evocation of post-war Germany - or Germanies, plural - is quite atmospheric and convincing, by the way.)
However, the main premise is remarkably far-fetched. In the movie, it becomes imperative to stop a man from travelling eastwards in order to share his knowledge with his Moscow masters. The man is best stopped in a permanent fashion, say with a bullet through the head. The British secret service, which fears that one of its own agents would be immediately recognizable, finds someone else to do the job, in the person of an unsuspecting civilian who is manipulated and tricked with the aid of carrots and sticks.
This immediately raises a number of questions. One : you're not going to tell me that the intelligence and counterintelligence services of the Soviet bloc know each and every member of British secret services by sight, including the night watchman and the cleaning lady. Two : you're not going to tell me that British secret services can't get help in the killing department from, say, the navy, the army, the airforce, the SAS,... Three : you're not going to tell me that Her Majesty's prisons are unable to deliver professional killers who would be glad to kill someone - anyone - so as to get out five years early.
Moreover, why put all of your eggs in one basket ? In the movie, at least twenty people in different countries are following and monitoring the progress of that one single marksman, upon whom the whole success of the operation depends. If you really really really want an extremely dangerous individual dead, why stop at one attempt ? Let someone throw a bomb at him, let another person sabotage his car, let yet another person sabotage his hotel balcony, and so on ; have a go at him in Lille, in Toulon, in Düsseldorf and in Kiev.
So no, the movie doesn't make much sense, in spite of its sober tone and intelligent performances.
I'm still giving "The Naked Runner" six stars, mainly for the fine turn by Frank Sinatra, who imbues his character with a quiet and tragic humanity. (Mind you, his character commits a grievous parenting mistake - never ever leave your young son alone in a foreign city he's unfamiliar with, even if you think that the surroundings are safe and mundane.)
Now this movie has the rare distinction of being realistic and preposterous at the same time.
Allow me to explain. To begin with the "realistic" part, this is a spy movie in the Le Carré tradition, meaning that you get careful plotting, psychological manipulation and sombre amorality instead of gadgets, explosions, dolly birds. Moreover, the story is carefully embedded in a recognizable world where customs men check borders, where planes can be delayed and where tired people need sleep. This world also wears the scars, both visible and invisible, of real-life historical events, such as World War II or the division of Germany. (The evocation of post-war Germany - or Germanies, plural - is quite atmospheric and convincing, by the way.)
However, the main premise is remarkably far-fetched. In the movie, it becomes imperative to stop a man from travelling eastwards in order to share his knowledge with his Moscow masters. The man is best stopped in a permanent fashion, say with a bullet through the head. The British secret service, which fears that one of its own agents would be immediately recognizable, finds someone else to do the job, in the person of an unsuspecting civilian who is manipulated and tricked with the aid of carrots and sticks.
This immediately raises a number of questions. One : you're not going to tell me that the intelligence and counterintelligence services of the Soviet bloc know each and every member of British secret services by sight, including the night watchman and the cleaning lady. Two : you're not going to tell me that British secret services can't get help in the killing department from, say, the navy, the army, the airforce, the SAS,... Three : you're not going to tell me that Her Majesty's prisons are unable to deliver professional killers who would be glad to kill someone - anyone - so as to get out five years early.
Moreover, why put all of your eggs in one basket ? In the movie, at least twenty people in different countries are following and monitoring the progress of that one single marksman, upon whom the whole success of the operation depends. If you really really really want an extremely dangerous individual dead, why stop at one attempt ? Let someone throw a bomb at him, let another person sabotage his car, let yet another person sabotage his hotel balcony, and so on ; have a go at him in Lille, in Toulon, in Düsseldorf and in Kiev.
So no, the movie doesn't make much sense, in spite of its sober tone and intelligent performances.
I'm still giving "The Naked Runner" six stars, mainly for the fine turn by Frank Sinatra, who imbues his character with a quiet and tragic humanity. (Mind you, his character commits a grievous parenting mistake - never ever leave your young son alone in a foreign city he's unfamiliar with, even if you think that the surroundings are safe and mundane.)