REVIEW - Chichester's enthralling plunge into the murky world of John le Carré

Rory Keenan brings to life compellingly the flawed, fascinating and compromised figure of Alec Leamas in David Eldridge’s first-ever stage adaptation of a John le Carré novel. It’s hugely impressive, enthralling, dense and comfortably – or maybe uncomfortably – by far the most demanding CFT production this summer, an evening where you dare not let your mind wander for a moment.

Maybe it’s an evening the le Carré aficionados will get the most out of it, but for those of us who have never felt the slightest flicker of interest in the le Carré world, it’s at the very least an engrossing introduction.

Keenan conveys beautifully Leamas’ world-weariness. He’s the spy who’s had enough, who knows just how much his work has damaged him – and the final straw comes when his best agent is gunned down, the moment he is brought in from the cold and reset for one final mission, surely the most convoluted of his career.

His ultimate brief, and he would love to do it, is to take down his arch enemy, former Nazi turned communist, the cold-blooded killer Mundt (Gunnar Cauthery), now the powerful leader of the East German Secret Service. But to get into his orbit, Leamas must first, back home in the UK, apparently go to seed and go public with the kind of jaded vulnerability which will tempt the Germans to attempt to turn him.

However, Leamas’s joy – and also his tragedy – is that he meets Liz Gold (hugely affecting from Agnes O'Casey) and falls in love with her, the one thing he absolutely mustn’t do. Overhanging it all is the figure of George Smiley (John Ramm), in Leamas’ head or maybe not, constantly watching, occasionally spouting enigmatically, a point of reference amid all his turmoil.

You find yourself hanging on to an understanding of just what exactly is happening – until you realise that that’s precisely the point. This is the murkiest, most dangerous of worlds, and the second half heaps layer of deceit upon layer of deceit. It’s a world where you haven’t a clue just whose side for sure anyone is actually on, and both sides are clearly divided. Whether you are British or German, you’ve got own personal agenda. It’s clear strings all around are being pulled, that potentially everyone is being played. Just who’s doing the pulling and the playing is ultimately the big reveal.

And it comes with one of the most shockingly dramatic endings (presumably rather less so if you know the books) that the Minerva will ever have seen, played to maximum spine-tingling effect. This is a show which teases and engrosses, playing us, the audience, as much as it does the characters – and delivered to huge effect on Max Jones’ sparse set. Director Jeremy Herrin ramps up the tension and controls the pace masterfully on a night you will definitely want to revisit. This is “run that past me one more time” territory…

The opening moments are a little clunky, and the German accents do waver, but it’s yet another impressive night in the 2024 Chichester Festival Theatre summer.