The Pigeon Tunnel
In John le Carré’s last interview, he surveys his life and tells it his way.
The American documentarian Errol Morris made his name with his third feature film, 1988’s The Thin Blue Line. In it he questioned the guilt of a man undergoing a life sentence for a murder in Texas. The subject-matter was striking in itself but the acclaim for the film emphasised its very individual visual styling alongside dramatised reconstructions of events being described, such scenes often incorporating detailed close-ups. But, if that kind of approach is what we associate with Morris, he has also made films such as The Fog of War (2003). Regardless of any special additions (the soundtracks of both works feature the music of Philip Glass), the latter film was centred on Morris interviewing his subject, Robert S McNamara. Furthermore Tabloid (2011) was pared down even further. An exploration of an alleged kidnapping for sex in 1977 which was denied by the woman accused, Joyce McKinney, it found Morris ready to concentrate on direct testimonies rather than elaborating visually. 2013’s The Unknown Known was again a concentrated interview piece, the subject there being Donald Rumsfeld.
On paper, the latest work from Errol Morris, The Pigeon Tunnel, suggests another example of this more standard approach. That's because this is not only an interview film but one in which there is a single interviewee, the late John le Carré, who agreed to do it about a year before his death in December 2020. Furthermore, although Morris is himself the interviewer he remains off-screen, heard but never seen. Nevertheless, what is on view is not visually restricted but incorporates all kinds of touches personal to Morris (this even extends to the music again being by Philip Glass although Paul Leonard–Morgan contributes too).
The footage with le Carré himself is, of course, very much the central focus, the interview conducted it would seem over several sessions and not all in precisely the same setting. But even the backgrounds here are angled in a manner that is stylised and, similarly, old photographs incorporated are often slanted or partly cut off when shown side-by-side. In a more standard way Morris opts not only to incorporate clips from several film and television adaptations of le Carré’s novels but also includes dramatised scenes with actors appearing as the young author-to-be and as his parents, these shots being used to accompany spoken recollections. Not for the first time in an Errol Morris film passing references made to movies become the opportunity to include a brief extract – here we have Dr. No and Murnau's Faust. Furthermore, there are at least two occasions when memories described by le Carré are depicted visually using actors regardless of the fact that on further reflection le Carré concludes that they were false memories and did not happen.
It is rather a moot point to what extent these extra elements benefit the film (it certainly seems extraneous when late on a reference back to wartime events leads to a shot of an actor in a plane representing the German Rudolf Hess on his flight to Scotland!). However, it does ensure that the film is cinematic and far removed from what might literally have been nothing but a single talking head. Nevertheless, le Carré is such a fluent speaker that it is what he has to say that dominates and in such a way that the visual additions are very much secondary.
As most admirers of John le Carré will know, the title of this film is taken from the autobiographical memoir published in 2016 which was something of a riposte to Adam Sisman’s biography which had appeared a year earlier. More recently two books about le Carré’s love life have appeared (one again by Sisman) but that subject is accepted by Morris as being off-limits in this film. All of this means that there are no new revelations to be found here, but the film is a chance to observe le Carré as he looks back on his life and to decide how much of the truth he is choosing to tell us. He himself describes speaking as a performance art and his words come across as measured. Elsewhere in the film he reflects on the nature of truth pointing out that people who have shared a dramatic experience will each describe it differently.
Whether or not one is familiar with the life of John le Carré, his history contains so much that is fascinating that the film holds one throughout, be it the impact on the author of his con man father, Ronnie Cornwall, his own background in MI5 and MI6 or the transformation of that experience into material for the spy stories that brought fame to David Cornwall under the name of John le Carré. A key link between his life and his writing is his concern with betrayal. That was something that led to the title of his memoir based on the childhood memory of seeing pigeons being released through a tunnel where they found not freedom but death as they became shooting targets. For once the visualisation of this by Morris is an entirely apt and welcome dramatised touch even if he does rather overdo later shots of pigeons. The film also finds le Carré commenting at some length on Kim Philby in a way that is decidedly relevant to the theme of betrayal and indeed to le Carré’s view of humanity generally. He sees history as chaos and his writing as a reorganising of that chaos. Make of the man what you will, but his writing surely justifies his wish to think of himself as an artist.
MANSEL STIMPSON
Featuring John le Carré, the actors Garry Cooper, Jake Dove, Charlotte Hamblin, Alan Mehdizadeh and others, and the voice of Errol Morris.
Dir Errol Morris, Pro Steven Hathaway, Dominic Crossley-Holland, Simon Cornwall and Stephen Cornwall, Screenplay Errol Morris, based on the book by John le Carré, Ph Igor Martinovic, Pro Des Peter Francis and Mark Scruton, Ed Steven Hathaway, Music Philip Glass and Paul Leonard-Morgan.
Fourth Floor Pictures/127 Wall/Hero Squared/Jago Films/Apple Original Films/The Ink Factory-Apple Original Films.
92 mins. USA. 2023. US and UK Rel: 20 October 2023. Available on Apple TV+. Cert. 12A.
