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Film Analysis

Good Films

What’s a good film?

A story of psychological integrity told with integrity of craft.

How do you make a good film?

Find a story of psychological integrity and execute it with integrity of media.

How hard is it to make a good film?

Given the demands of people, time, and resources, integrating the operations of audio and visual media is difficult. Most productions struggle deeply with this fundamental task, but the best films show us that it can be done. Their example can inspire us to aim for the sophistication of their integration of psychology and media.


INCEPTIVE EFFICIENCY

From the outset, Tinker Tailor is an excellent film. Integrity and economy go hand in hand: style is deployed efficiently, with no moment wasted. The 15-minute opening titles are among the longest I can think of. Through them and the entire first half of the first act, languid yet dense with information, the looks, cuts, sounds, melodies, and gestures are complete yet halting, unfinished. Like any other day in the intelligence service.

The score drinks deep from the world the film conveys. It hesitates, pauses, and stops for a moment to think or gather its thoughts, then steps boldly on. Slow trumpet and clarinet lines signal sad fanfares as Control and Smiley leave MI6 for the last time. These solo instruments, set into crystal-clear sonic relief, are loners, too. It’s all over, they seem to cry. Things will never be the same again.

Like any good integrated mix, the score belongs within the soundscape, not simply over it as accompaniment. Like the thoughts of spies, the soundworld divides into foreground, middle, and background. Distant echoes of past events intermingle with stridency and the humdrum of bureaucracy.

SMILEY LISTENING

There’s no way that Smiley in Hampstead can hear Control’s hospital death. Yet when we hear the distant smash of a broken bottle, Smiley’s head turns as if he has heard something, and the film cuts to Control’s limp, lifeless body. This tells us everything: not only that their minds are connected, but that this is not supernatural; it is the natural function of years, maybe decades, of ‘service’ together in the Circus. It also tells us that Smiley can read people before they speak. Smiley listens. So does the film. It listens to itself, the hallmark of any integrated artwork.

The jazz-inflected instrumental score continues its stylistic mélange. It moves slowly and steadily, like our thoughtful characters’ minds, yet racing strings infect it with urgency when fear comes knocking. There isn’t a score like it, and words cannot fully contain it. This is always a good sign: the integration of elements supersedes their discrete identities. The subtle fluidity with which this score moves between its stylistic elements is unmatched. Made in 2011, the score distinguishes itself further by refusing all electronica. Real instruments played by real people sound the thoughts and states of mind of people. Smiley’s theme, which returns at opportune moments, is heard in full on a harp as he walks home alone to begin retirement proper. Why the harp? Delicate, graceful, precise. Smiley.


INTEGRATED CINEMA

Fifteen minutes, and we’ve only scratched the surface of the information conveyed. Prideaux’s Hungarian catastrophe. Control’s suspicion. Daily life at the Circus. A variety of relationships. A visual world saturated with so much integrated detail that it overwhelms.

Already, the way the media is used expresses the characters’ attitudes. The film avoids melodramatic excess, definite pointers, and emotional answers. Instead, it presents the characters as they are: people wandering the hallways of confusion and thoughtfulness. This leaves us in the same mental space they occupy, finding our own way through it as they do.

Everything in the narrative, sonic, and visual realms relates to everything else within one homogeneous cinematic world. This is film used to convey characters who drive the evolution of plot. Sound and vision move in dynamic tandem with character. A good film.