
1965 · Martin Ritt
How The Spy Who Came In from the Cold has been received, argued over, and remembered.
Released as the deliberate anti-Bond at the height of 007 mania, it was acclaimed straight away — BAFTA winner, Oscar nomination for Burton — and its stock has only risen: it's now the benchmark every 'serious' spy film gets measured against.
The perennial fan debate is whether this or Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (either version) is the definitive le Carré on screen — and whether its unrelenting bleakness is the whole point or a bit of an endurance test.
It's the founding document of the grubby, disillusioned spy movie — every rain-soaked, morally exhausted agent from Harry Palmer to Slow Horses lives in its shadow, and Burton's bitter monologue about what spies really are ('a squalid procession of vain fools...') is still endlessly quoted.
Firmly canon among spy-film devotees — the 'you must see this in black-and-white' recommendation that cinephiles hand to anyone who thinks the genre begins and ends with Bond.