Author John Le Carr\u00e9, who wrote the source novel, said that he was inspired to create the Alec Leamas character after seeing a \u201cPeter Finch-like figure in a raincoat<\/a>\u201d pull out a wad of foreign bank notes at an airport to pay for a Scotch. Like Burton, Finch came up through the West End scene before transitioning to film. He was favored by Le Carr\u00e9 for the role but ultimately was deemed not enough of a box office draw. Instead Burton, a less reedy and cerebral performer than Finch, was cast. He was already a year into his first marriage with Elizabeth Taylor at the time, making him a tabloid fixture and an odd choice to play a man forced to keep his cards close to the vest. But that\u2019s exactly why he ends up working so well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Viewers more accustomed to the flashy spycraft of James Bond might be shocked by the comparatively sedate pace of Martin Ritt\u2019s film. It\u2019s shot in an austere black and white that gives the proceedings a chilly, mournful tone. The offices and safehouses are as deliberately anonymous as the operatives meeting in them. Though the plot isn\u2019t devoid of twists and intrigue, it\u2019s largely about the sort of unheralded grunt work that happens in secret and \u2013 in theory at least \u2013 keeps a democracy alive. Men are drawn to the field less from a sense of conviction than expediency, as Leamas puts it. Personal relationships are viewed as a liability, susceptible to exploitation. When Leamas insists in a late scene that he has no friends, it feels like the most honest thing he\u2019s said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n From the start he has the air of a man who\u2019s seen it all, little of it good. His reaction to a source being gunned down in front of him at Checkpoint Charlie is so restrained as to make it seem routine. He\u2019s called in by Control (Cyril Cusack) who baits him with a suggestion that he retire, or take a desk job. \u201cI\u2019m an operations man,\u201d Leamas snaps. But Control has a plan for him. To orchestrate the arrest and killing of an East German intelligence officer named Mundt (Peter van Eyck), Leamas must convince the enemy that he\u2019s ready to defect to their side. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The next time we see him, he has the disheveled look of someone on the wrong side of a multi-day bender, seemingly down on his luck and seeking work in an employment office. It\u2019s a credit to Burton\u2019s precise performance that it\u2019s unclear at first whether this is an act meant to draw the attention of his mark or a legitimate fall from grace. For Leamas, there might be little difference; the line where he ends and the role begins has vanished. The same could be said for Burton. But of course it is a put on: Leamas takes a position at a reference library that puts him in the orbit of idealistic Communist Party member Nan Perry (Claire Bloom), for whom his growing affection will eventually prove compromising. Before that, though, he gets himself arrested in a drunken altercation and makes contact with representatives from the sinisterly named organization \u201cthe Link.\u201d From there, he\u2019s ferried across the Wall for interrogation by Mundt\u2019s right-hand man, Fiedler (Oskar Werner).<\/p>\n\n\n\n Up until this point, Burton\u2019s performance has largely been an internal one. What little variance in emotion Leamas allows is expressed in the narrowing of an eye or tightening of the jaw. He\u2019s an observant man, often still, but there are clockworks turning just below the surface. It\u2019s not until he spars with Fiedler that he seems to come alive, placed in the impossible position of believably refuting something he must convince the enemy is true. There are guns here but words are the most dangerous weapon these men wield. For all Leamas\u2019s confidence, there\u2019s also the overwhelming sense that he wants to prove himself to his adversary. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Burton may have felt similarly: according to Hollis Alpert\u2019s 1986 biography of the actor, Ritt was wary of casting him, fearing that the actor\u2019s recreational habits \u201clacked a certain discipline\u201d that would carry over into the production. The two butted heads constantly. He also had a difficult relationship with Bloom, with whom he was romantically involved several years prior, a circumstance that lends their intimate scenes together a touching hesitancy. Burton might not have relished such antagonisms on a personal level, but they undoubtedly informed his performance and it benefits from the tension.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Spies, as Leamas tells Nan, are \u201cjust a bunch of seedy, squalid bastards like me.\u201d It\u2019s a line that Burton possibly identified with as well, given his working class background and substance abuse struggles. Acting too is a career of expediency: you play the role that\u2019s required then step out of the spotlight. Leamas has the dubious honor of choosing his fate at the end of The Spy Who Came In From the Cold<\/em>. Burton, on the other hand, was subject to the fickle whims of fame. But there was a certain conviction in his unwillingness to compromise. If he never quite lived up to the ideas of greatness that others had for him, at least he lived as he wanted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “The Spy Who Came In From the Cold” is streaming on MGM+<\/a> and is available for digital rental or purchase<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/crookedmarquee.com\/stage8\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/11\/spy2-1024x576.jpg\")
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