The
Night Manager Brings Cinematic Espionage to the Small Screen
by
Kristin Battestella
The
Nefertiti Hotel's night manager Jonathan Pine (Tom Hiddleston)
receives documents implementing arms dealer Richard Roper (Hugh
Laurie) and is later recruited by International Enforcement Chief
Angela Burr (Olivia Colman) in Switzerland to infiltrate Roper's
criminal organization. Pine builds his rap sheet in Devon as Jack
Linden before becoming the injured Thomas Quince welcomed into
Roper's island fortress in Mallorca. There, Pine becomes Andrew Birch
– the front man in Roper's latest shell company buying and selling
chemical weapons. Unfortunately, bureaucratic red tape, dalliances
with Roper's girlfriend Jed (Elizabeth Debicki), and suspicious right
hand man Corky (Tom Hollander) put the operation at risk as Pine is
cut off from his handler and falls deeper into this lavish but deadly
enterprise.
BBC
and AMC's 2016 co-production of John Le Carre's The Night Manager
is an impressive six hour
adaptation brimming with sophisticated espionage and cinematic
flair thanks to Emmy winning director Susanne Bier (In a Better
World) and screenwriting nominee David Farr's (MI-5)
update on the 1993 novel's Caribbean cartels turned contemporary
Mediterranean arms. The Night Manager begins
with the 2011 Egyptian Revolution, intercutting the hotbed protests
in the street with video clips of our corrupt entrepreneur. The
luxury hotel isn't much safer with complimentary cocktails, seductive
clientele, and confidential documents, but early conversations layer
what the audience needs to know – naming the bad boys, our titular
employee's history, and redacted weapons manifests. There's a
buttoned up formality in the nighttime bustle accented by unique
through the water fountain camera angles, and zooming in on the eyes
brings us closer but not within the eponymous inner workings as
breathy lips near the phone receiver escalate the room service
flirtation. This desert subtlety is well framed as silhouetted men
walk through door frames or archways, entering deeper as critical
information goes to the wrong source. Interfering with weapons deals,
swapping rooms, and having a little hideaway romance leads to bruised
faces and consequences while bureaucratic paper work prevents the
outdated government agency with no lift or heat from pursuing its
quarry. Warning phone calls come too late, and fatalities linger into
the chilly present with mysterious packages and testy confrontations
as our hotelier must make his choice. Unfortunately, the island
luxury, continental travel, and sailing to fancy dinner parties turns
into family terror. Although this second hour's opening hostage
exotic is somewhat Bondian, there's relationship drama, female
character developments, and depth to the ruses with disturbing give a
sip of wine to the young boy and see if he likes it then give the kid
a rifle and watch what happens jokes. Indoctrinating speeches and spy
placements take The Night Manager back six months, and as the
eponymous blank slate steps into the out of focus field office, the
camera angle and his new identity become clear. This agency needs the
perfect psychopath performance, and rules don't apply to the good
guys if they need to get the bad guys. Infiltrating the Devon
underground with motorcycles, slapping around pimps, bad drug deals,
bar fights, and bloody crime scenes trump up a legend as broken bones
take the put on violence too far – leaving our asset injured with
the enemy seeing to his care. MI-6 and the CIA go back and forth on
if they are playing ball or stonewalling each other, and each hour of
The Night Manager builds its
own well paced narrative with the overarching mission details
and the play within a play questions on who's off the undercover
script, cut off, or in too deep, thus intertwining the at home drama
amid the slight of hand espionage.
Family
consequences and fatal fractures come for the middle man by Episode
Three, for there's a price to pay in being friendly with the worst
man in the world. Business dealings are done at children's parties
with the magic tricks, and tennis, beach side runs, and infinity
pools come along with hefty threats – you are not a prisoner so
long as one abides the house rules and doesn't tug on the leash. The
bodyguards come along when going out for ice cream, and kids are used
in making covert handler contact as veiled conversations say one
thing and mean another amid house alarms, stolen phones, secret
rooms, and keys hidden in the peppermints. Information passed outside
goes back inside, creating a wedge at this Tudor-eqsue court with
whispers on the balcony, deals disguised as entertainment, and
strolls planting the seeds of doubt. Revelations lie behind every
closed door, scorned women know too much, couples are tested, and new
dalliances made – thinking about the ladies keeps a man up at night
but the transparent politicians offer a different bribe in this
multi-level game played with bedroom intimacy and continental
meetings. The snooping gets damn risky as code names, client lists
revealed, new signatures, and company facades bring our insider to
the forefront. Truths said to be told in anger and spread as manure
are believed by one where others are dismissed as a smear campaign
when they are just as true. The circumvention almost seems too easy,
but sweet selling speeches on how to win by keeping the losers
guessing are said directly to the camera. Anonymous partners don't
know what they are buying and selling and don't care so they can
sleep at night, but paper trail leaks and revealing nighttime
encounters upset this perilous balance. Kisses create complications,
officials are strong armed with roadside perils, and details on the
big money operation are given to the audience with envelope drops and
innocuous park bench chats. Our hotelier's smoothing over panache
comes in handy for the illegal trade alongside decoy cargo ships,
tapped phone lines, and exposed eyes only materials. Who's double
crossing whom? Rogue agents and collateral assets get caught in the
complicated crossfire while handshakes and quips about the contraband
remain as simple as a briefcase full of money and looking the other
way on the wink.
Game
faces, questions asked but answers not given, and call outs on who
would betray whom come to a head in Episode Five as The Night
Manager's bait
and switch suspicions put the viewer in on the game being played.
Refugee camps cover the deals really happening – some aide
given for the ironic photo op provides a heartbreaking realization on
how much these millions could do if they were really done for good.
Instead, crooks move into the vacuum
created by a country's chaos with spectacular demonstrations of the
fatal weaponry for sale. It's an impressive fireworks display, for
war is a spectator's sport and napalm looks pretty at night. Though
only eighteen months old, it's a bit creepy these days to watch this
shrewd, timely update waxing on
mercenaries, privatized warfare, false flags, and conveniently
created coups. Risks and tensions rise while the on edge entourage
points fingers at each other – warrants come and funding goes
thanks to lies on the fly, deliberate power outages, and violence at
home. The technicalities of the snare are well explained as
interrogations escalate into your word versus mine silence. The
luxury hotels and exotic veneer are less lush by the final hour as
The Night Manager returns
to the desert where this escapade began. Global enmity folds into
government inquiries, potentially false intelligence, and mothballed
agencies amid private vengeance and local drug lords hung out to dry.
It's time for the millionaire transfer and final client exchange, but
a cowboy and a pregnant woman are all that stand beside our
ex-manager against the close calls, combinations to the safe, decoy
parcels, and clues at the roulette table. Cover blowing
confrontations have everyone looking over their shoulders as the lose
ends are caught in the expensive, explosive just deserts.
Pine,
Linden, Quince, Birch – executive producer Tom Hiddleston's (Kong: Skull Island) former soldier doesn't miss warfare but he doesn't
know who he really is, either. Pine hibernates in the cold anonymity
of hospitality, a relatable every man willfully hiding in a luxurious
shadow with nothing but a backpack and a spartan room. He has a
formal, controlled facade for every situation, but when he does stick
his neck out against the morally wrong weapons trade and pass along
information to his former military friends, the consequences isolate
the newly cut to the core Pine even further. He uses that emotion to
get Roper when he has the chance, gathering useful intel while
keeping his cool on the fly and thinking fast with the right smile or
wink. Up close signatures are different names but the same tell tale
cursive, and the name tag uniform, leather jacket, and tailored suits
match each persona as Pine plays spy in Roper's world – a lavish
playground for his many sides to maneuver. “Linden's” happy he
can summon a fake passport, “Quince” roughs people up to make it
look really authentic, and “Birch” clearly enjoys everyone
calling him handsome. A guy can get used to this deception, and the
camera plays to Hiddleston's strengths – panning up as he struts
across the screen and fills the whole canvas with his close shaves,
shirtless muscles, steamy sheets, and piercing blue palette. Pine has
a soft spot for count 'em three fallen women but ultimately ends up
using them as well. He's the perfect front man with his debonair
answers tricking people into speaking freely, unaware he is the dark
horse topsy-turvying Roper's household. He gives bitter info about
his father – it wouldn't be a Hiddleston role without daddy issues!
– while playing chess with mentor Roper as he likewise puts the
smolder on Jed. The cracking cat and mouse worsens as half alive Pine
embraces the brutality of Roper's organization and has nothing left
to lose when staring at the end of the gun barrel. The double
crossing roles add to the life imitating art wink, and since he's
again wearing his own wardrobe, Golden Globe winner Hiddleston can
seem like he's just playing his blue steel self. While Loki requires
a full transformative appearance, the performance in The Night
Manager has merit enough to move
Hiddleston beyond the Marvel wig. Ironically, he didn't need to try
so hard with that summer tabloid fiasco said to have already cost him
a chance at being the next James Bond. Could he be 007 in the
same gritty vein as Daniel Craig? No. However, if the franchise
returns to the lighthearted charm of the Roger Moore era, than yes.
After all, Pine drinks martinis, too.
We
hear tell of fellow EP and Globe winner Hugh Laurie's (House)
charismatic “worst man
in the world” Richard Roper before we meet him thanks to his rah
rah videos – his photo ops say one thing and mean another, never
mind that it isn't really farm equipment his shell companies are
transporting behind the jolly good, what fun lifestyle. His dry wit
and cool entourage stay at ease so long as one doesn't cross Dickie,
but he will test or toy with people for his bemusement, talking to
Pine as a paying custom to a subservient manager before taking to his
English moxie. Roper pays the bills, so he gets to draw the map, and
there's almost an admiration for his self-made if illegal hard work.
He's calm when his son is threatened, expecting that what he says
goes, yet Roper sentimentally repays Pine for his heroics, embracing
him as someone not content with life who could be worthy of his
operation. Roper can groom Pine in his own image, but warns him of
what will happen if you don't follow daddy's rules. Dickie sees that
the world is rotten and a truly free man embraces the cruelty to stay
on top – a bleak but sadly not wrong notion. He doesn't lie, just
merely says the right things until you don't notice the truth isn't
one of them. Such shady work comes before Jed and his little Danny,
but Roper can impart his tactics on the “young prince” Birch.
While he's aware one shouldn't trust a man who has no appetite or
vices and keeps some of his business mysteries from Andrew, he's
almost impressed by one who might outwit him. Roper sips tea during
some nonchalant bathtub torture, but mistakenly believes his own
cheeky hype in this caper, calling his privatized warfare one big
happy kingdom where he is Caesar sitting back as others do the
violence for him. However, he dislikes being double crossed, and when
Roper says it is borrowed time for anyone who betrays him, we believe
it.
Olivia
Colman's (Broadchurch) Angela Burr may be such a super role
because the character was originally a man, but the pregnant actress
makes it all the more juicy and numerous awards followed. Burr uses
the personal against people with no qualms because she is in the
right to do so, and she pushes Pine out of his element as both a
maternal figure tapping into his duty and the devil on his shoulder
playing his emotion over Roper. She likes that he is a clean slate
she can muck up with a fake dossier and tests Pine with his father's
past – casually saying she didn't know it meant that much to him,
which he counters yes, she did. Angela jokes that being a pregnant
woman is the perfect cover but as an Englishwoman balks at the idea
of carrying a gun. She lays her plan to infiltrate Roper's circle on
thick while insisting Pine eat a cookie, and Burr turns another asset
by preying on his Catholicism with her pregnant woman guardian angel
Madonna veneer. Only she can wash the blood from his hands with this
deceptive womanly warmth, and though her condition adds to the tough
travel, hot temperatures, and stakeout waiting; the entirety of the
woman's existence is not her being with child. Huzzah! Angela admits
to not really loving her decent, understanding husband and may have
been a little naughty along the way it seems. Upon first viewing The
Night Manager, her still
unmistakably pregnant despite the timeline skips may be confusing,
however we can forgive the film making trickery because she
has to be fresh, pushy, and loud to get her way regardless thanks to
nasty bureaucrats who don't want Burr digging further. She's always
one step behind Roper, and this off the books operation is a risky
venture that brings consequences close to home. Angela's scared, but
she won't concede to an ignorant, stay a home life, giving the reason
why she despises Roper in a stunning, heartfelt scene done with
nothing but one woman retelling a terrible witness to another.
Perhaps
Elizabeth Debicki (The Man from U.N.C.L.E) is an
unconventional beauty to Hollywood standards, but she's a lady as
tall as her men with an edgy haircut and sexy slip in or slip out
effortless, elegant styles. Her Jed is initially blissfully unaware
of Roper's ways – but she's not afraid to show her body to keep up
the heated pools, lavish furs, and tubs of champagne. The subtle
camera pans suggest what the men are thinking without being mere
titillation to make the audience drool, and maybe it takes a woman
director to know the difference. Jed has a family history that
doesn't match the lingerie and satin robes brochure, and she won't
let anyone see her tears, taking pills to cope and staying so cool on
the outside as angry calls from home risk revealing her baggage to
Roper. She's deluded herself into thinking this is a loving
relationship rather than another one of Roper's arrangements, telling
Pine knowing Roper's business would drive her mad and dropping dress
to test him with her body because maybe that is the only way she
knows how. However, Jed's doubts do blossom with Jonathan there to
help her escape. She objects to being just another employee in
Roper's shady deals, getting pissy and finding it more and more
difficult to play along in keeping him happy. Jed becomes emotional –
being in love makes her slip up, and she isn't as good at this covert
fine line as the boys and her pretty face pays. Though at times the
camera is too obvious in the lovebirds' stolen glances, that mirrors
their increasing notice to others, and Tom Hollander's (Rev.)
Lance “Corky” Corkoran sees Pine for exactly what he is.
Initially, Corky's rare loyalty and ruthless skills are worth any
bemusing faux pas. He enjoys getting under everyone's skin, flirting
with Pine to gauge a response while remaining suave in his threats.
Corky suggests big deals go down at family parties and seems
unfettered by potential harm to the children, but he's rightfully
suspicious of the employee from Switzerland with an international rap
sheet posing as a chef in Mallorca who rescued the Chief's kid. His
own vices, unfortunately, become an embarrassing liability – Roper
can only overlook the $100 a pop “uncorking” expenses for so long
until Corky's left home and pushed out of the business in favor of
Birch. He warns him to back off romancing Jed and sobers up to
confront Andrew. Unfortunately, there isn't room in Roper's court for
both of them, and it is ridiculous that Hollander won the Supporting
Actor Bafta yet received no other nominations.
The
Night Manager has fine support
all around, including David Harewood (Homeland) as
Angela's likewise red taped American ally Joel Steadman. She needs
him under the rug and on her side, and the implication of a past
fling and his still having a soft spot for our hard dame is a
wonderful touch contrasting the snobby smooth of Alistair Petri's
(Rogue One) Lord Langbourne. He enjoys the viola in
doing Roper's deals, liking Pine's suave front even if a simple hotel
man raised up can't have the same elan as his aristocratic
self. Sadly, Natasha Little (Another Life) as his wife
Caroline is aware of the trade secrets and patting on the young
nanny's bottom, gossiping to Pine because she wants to talk with
someone else who sees everything. She dislikes him becoming Roper's
“acolyte,” but Dickie humiliates her into reporting on Jed. Young
Noah Jupe's (Suburbicon) Danny also factors into the plot as
needed with Pine using Roper's son for information and connections –
an unenviable situation for the only genuine and innocent person in
this world who just likes having Jonathan as a friend. Aure Atika's
(Mademoiselle Chambon) Sophie is also a bittersweet, trying to
be brave, classy dame in with the wrong crowd both saved and ruined
by the men around her. Frisky and Tabby bodyguards Michael Nardone
(Rome) and Hovik Keuchkerian (Assassin's Creed) are
sardonic but appropriately violent, while Douglas Hodge's Rex Mayhew
(Penny Dreadful) is a good politician screwed over, and man,
River House bad Tobias Menzies (Outlander) is once again so
shady and smug, belittling Burr's agency as nothing more than her
personal obsession with Roper, GTFO.
From
Cairo and the Pyramids, Swiss resorts, or Mallorca palaces to British
countrysides, London skylines, and Turkish hideaways; wherever
The Night Manager roams
there are sweet, sweet locales. Title cards giving time and place add
to the assorted languages as sweeping overhead shots and wide lenses
make people small against the scene setting grandeur – be it
Spanish churches symbolizing guilt and repentance or snowy
mountaintops touching the humbling night sky. Click click snapshots
match spying camera views of SUV entourages while up close
photography draws the viewer into the heist action. While the steeped
in the plot technology will be dated soon, such security scanning,
encrypted messages, retina recognition, and voice transfers are high
tech enough to be slightly fantastic yet believably slick. So what if
sliding tablet screens and thumbs poised over the green send call
button aren't the slammed receiver from the days of old – criminal
satellite visuals and night vision screens contrast the less tricked
out official outfits using fax machines, older televisions, and big
computers. Interiors are likewise warmed with fire lit glows or sunny
island windows for the lavish compared to frigid government offices.
The brief nudity is sexy but demure, however brief ghostly flashes
are unnecessary thanks to better editing and photography already
reflecting internal character angst. Pine also smokes in one scene
purely to show his willpower against Roper, but it is such a fine
mano y mano moment we can allow it. The
Night Manager is
shot like a film, and while some viewers may find the stylish
transitions irrelevant, it's nice to have a series setting itself
apart with visual flair looking more expensive than it actually is.
The haunting melodies and simmering music fit this beautiful but
dangerous edge, and the excellent opening credits sum up the series
perfectly with a mirage of bombs, firepower, and explosive clouds
merging with alluring diamonds, champagne, and crashing chandeliers.
Although
the stateside AMC airing of The Night Manager made
slight editing and censoring changes – international screenings
also changed the series from six solid hours to eight, forty-five
minute episodes for some markets – there are behind the scenes
features and bonuses available amid several uncut video releases and
streaming options. In contrast to that other MI-6 agent, The
Night Manager combines the
individual spy, larger mission, team at hand, and female characters
better than Spectre
without sacrificing any extravagance. I still say Spectre's
formula of MI-6 getting the job done largely without Bond can be a
008 Netflix series in between movies, but The Night Manager
works as both one cinematic
binge or an episodic pace. It's great on the first viewing for all
the surprises, but the allure grows the more times you watch all the
slight of hand, drool worthy people, and pretty places. Though not a
totally faithful adaptation for novel purists, the miniseries ends
well with awards acclaim and continued success necessitating
rumblings of a follow up season. I'd love to see more, but a sequel
has to be as good as this debut, and The Night Manager is
difficult act to follow. Rather than weekly flash a minute, for the
cool fake outs, The Night Manager updates
Le Carre's espionage into a contemporary, relevant, and well balanced
but no less enticing potboiler.
