Jeremy Herrin’s adaptation of John le Carré’s 1963 spy thriller The Spy Who Came in from the Cold imitates the all-consuming atmosphere of fear, deceit and betrayal at the centre of the Cold War, in a tense and immersive production which roots us in this period of corruption and political radicalism.
Ralph Little as Leamas skilfully portrays shifting identities, from the determined attentiveness in his espionage to the quiet tenderness he shows to his lover, Liz (Graine Dromgoole). Little immerses us in Leamas’ thought processes, inner battles and scattered moral conscience. Dromgoole as Liz is commanding, giving complexity to her strong-willed and politically conscious character, but also showing nuance in her feelings towards Leamas in a way that is never overdramatic. The two complement each other, and their tense emotional scenes allow the audience to invest in the humanity surrounding the story, preventing it from becoming oversaturated with the twists and turns of cold-blooded espionage.
The set is simple, but theatrical blinding lights and an unchanging black background mirrors how we are kept in the dark as well as pointing to Leamas who is never grounded in reality. The barbed-wire Berlin Wall captures the unfeeling corporate nature of espionage, and acts as a symbol of Cold War tensions which underpins the original novel. The raised platform materialises the divide of the Berlin Wall, but also highlights the power dynamics and betrayal between spies — the audience, much like Leamas, are denied from knowing the full story until the ending. These platforms establish power dynamics and a lack of face-to-face communication, replicating the extent of secrecy, betrayal and deceit.
Many scenes are dialogue-heavy which at times undermines the tension, causing the pacing to feel uneven between the gentler first act and the influx of action towards the second half. Fiercely emotional scenes between Liz and Leamas however help to build tension. The courtroom scenes towards the end of the production subvert any concepts of ‘good’ or ‘evil’, leaning on this emotional crux of the story.
The dark, jazz-infused score punctuates scene changes, underscoring the permeating atmosphere of betrayal and all-consuming fear which paints an unglamorous picture of the past. If the staging is time period nondescript, the dialogue and comedic moments root us in the web of Cold War corruption and political radicalism.
Herrin’s adaptation rips apart the puzzling legacy of Cold War espionage but never glamorises it, scrutinising le Carré’s themes of morality and deception in an absorbing thriller.
Production image for UK tour by Johan Persson