Far better and more subtle than many give it credit for

Rating: 8/10 (13 September 2011)

By chance I watched The Russia House and The Good Shepherd almost one after the other, and although ostensibly they deal with the world of spying, they are very different films. The Russia House, the film of John le Carre's novel, is a love story set in the declining days of the Cold War. In its portrayal of the operations of the CIA and MI6 and its story of how an essentially decent British man decides to betray his country for the love of a woman, it is interesting enough. But at the end of the day it is conventional, well-made Saturday-night-at-the-flicks fodder. The Good Shepherd, on the other hand, is far darker and more ambitious, and from us, the viewer, it demands patience and, dare I say it, intelligence.
When it was released, it did not fare particularly well among those critics who criticise for a living. It is too long, they complained, it is too dark, they said. As the central character, Matt Damon is 'wooden', some claimed. Finally and most damningly, they chorus that the film's conclusions - that isn't spying quite a nasty profession and look how it damages those involved? - are simply too slight for a film of this magnitude which clocks in at over two and a half hours.
Well, have none of it. In this viewer's opinion, The Good Shepherd is worth every one of its 247 minutes and is far more nuanced and subtle than those who criticise for a living allow. (The verdict among IMDb users ranges from the usual 'awesome, magnificent, a masterpiece' to 'man, this sucks, it's two hours out of my life I've lost forever'. As usual, extremes rule absolutely.)
There is a lot going on in this, Robert De Niro's second film as a director, and it seems to me that those who criticise for a living seem to forget that a 'serious' film is not just expected to make 'serious' points, but must succeed in other ways, as a film, as a visual work of art. And The Good Shepherd does so, too, Perhaps I am more patient than many of those who criticise for a living, but from the opening shot until its ultimately tragic ending, I was carried along not by 'the story', but the style and look of the film, by the acting. It was criticised for having no suspense.
Really? Not the film I watched. I dislike providing a potted synopsis of the films I review in these pages, but to give my opinions context, I should write that The Good Shepherd portrays the early life of a fictional character, a gifted Yale student of poetry who is recruited into the World War II Office of Strategic Services and how he becomes a founder member of OSS's successor, the Central Intelligence Agency.
That portrayal is framed by the fiasco of the CIA-sponsored Bay of Pigs invasion of Cuba to topple Fidel Castro, the realisation that the operation had somehow been betrayed and the hunt of the betrayer. In parallel we are shown how that fictional character (called Edward Wilson in the film but assumed to be based on the CIA's James Angleton) is inducted into the equally secretive Skull and Bones society at Yale whose members pledge each other eternal loyalty and two of whom co-found the CIA with Wilson.
But there is far more to The Good Shepherd than some Sunday-supplement pseudo psycho-analysis of the 'secret world'. From early childhood Wilson is a damaged man, emotionally virtually inert, who is continually warned by those close to him both always to celebrate loyalty and never to trust anyone, and who never - as, of course, he couldn't and none of us can - manages to reconcile those mutually exclusive pieces of advice.
It doesn't help that he feels continually betrayed: by his father whose suicide he more or less witnesses, by his Yale poetry tutor, by his German translator, so he, in turn, also begins a career of betrayal, although in Wilson's case it is almost inadvertent and personal: the woman who might well have made him happy, the WASP wife who tricked him into marriage but sincerely loved him, and finally and most tragically, the son who followed him into the CIA to gain dad's love and approval. The film is also about relationships, the irony being that Wilson is incapable of sustaining personal relationships but has several successful relationships with those who care nothing about him, notably a shadowy FBI agent and, crucially, a KGB agent who plots to get Wilson to betray his country.
There is a great deal more to The Good Shepherd than, I feel, too many allow, and I have touched on very little. The Good Shepherd is a rich film, but it doesn't boast or bellow its achievements from the rooftops. It is long because it is obliged to take its time to develop, and it is none the worse for that.
I don't believe it did well at the box office (blame the critics) but I suspect that in time its real value as an engrossing film and - deep breath - a cinematic work of art will be recognised. De Niro and all those involved have nothing to be ashamed of, despite that rabble of those who criticise for a living. Indeed, they have a great deal to be proud of. Two minor quibbles: if the producers chose to hire Britain's Michael Gambon as an old secret service queen who's bumped off as being inconvenient to the OSS and MI6, why not hire a Brit for the role of Arch Cummings? And rather too enthusiastic editing means that one or two points are not clear. But I stress these are minor points. There is a lot to take in in The Good Shepherd and my advice is not just to go and see it, but to go and see it at least twice.