Is “Bridge of Spies” a classic spy film?
What is a classic spy film? Typically, it’s a black-and-white studio film (most likely American but with British influence) and set in the mid-20th century in an area of political turmoil (post-war West Berlin, pre-revolution Cuba, etc.). It’s often adapted from a best-selling novel such as one written by Graham Greene, John le Carré, or Ian Fleming (i.e. James Bond). At the helm is a director well-versed in suspense and the noir chiarascuro palette (Fritz Lang or Carol Reed). The protagonist is a handsome everyman-type with a “mid-Atlantic” voice—someone like Cary Grant or Joseph Cotten; he’s the charismatic yet enigmatic lead who is either a spy by trade (The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, 1965) or becomes involved in espionage through happenstance (Our Man in Havana, 1960). Key plot points include shady meetings with foreign-accented men (German in post-war era, Russian during the Cold War), verbal sparring over suspicious-looking briefcases, and/or chase scenes down rainy, cobble-stoned streets. Bridge of Spies (2015), though not shot in black-in-white, fits enough of the criteria to be considered a classic spy film.
Produced by Dreamworks and Touchstone, Bridge of Spies opens in 1957 Brooklyn, set against the backdrop of the Cold War, laden with American paranoia of Soviet-communist “threats” including the possible overthrow of capitalism and use of the H-bomb. Adapted from the real-life events of James T. Donovan, the film is directed by Steven Spielberg, well-versed in suspense (Munich, 2005) and the noir palette (Schindler’s List, 1994). Tom Hanks stars as Donovan, an American insurance lawyer who is recruited to be chief negotiator in a trade of spies between the U.S. and Soviet Union over the Berlin Wall. Throughout the film, Donovan spars with the likes of the C.I.A., Soviet and East German government officials, and wandering street gangs in order to uphold his version of justice: every man on American soil deserves legal due process, and the U.S. leaves no man behind in the arms of an enemy government. There’s even a suspense-filled chase scene involving trench coats, umbrellas, and briefcases.
As an added boon to the genre, Spielberg pays homage to classic spy films throughout Bridge of Spies. The film opens on a scene which reveals an unassuming-looking man (Mark Rylance) painting in Brooklyn’s Prospect Park to be Soviet spy Rudolf Abel. The focus of its sequencing and swiftness of its pacing forces the audience to hang off of visual cues rather than waiting for more direct exposition. The first words uttered are by federal agents raiding Abel’s apartment; by then, the audience is already in Abel’s narrative pocket and a step ahead of the agents. Invested in Abel’s actions, we are suspended as we wait to see whether he is able to get rid of the evidence as well as place a razor in a matchbox. The latter can be interpreted as a nod to master of suspense Alfred Hitchcock, who through similar manipulation of the audience had us invest in things as mundane as a lighter (Strangers on a Train, 1951) or a wine bottle (Notorious, 1946). In a more explicit reference, Spielberg inserts a shot after the film’s climactic third-act standoff between the Americans and Soviets of Donovan’s shadow elongated across the frame, which is an unmistakable visual allusion to The Third Man (1949).
Given all these choices, Bridge of Spies is ultimately both a classic spy film and an homage to the genre.