The Pigeon Tunnel movie review: Apple’s John le Carré profile pushes the boundaries of the documentary format

The film charts his youth, and then follows him to Oxford, from where he was recruited into the British Secret Service. Le Carré served at both the MI5 and MI6 in the early stages of the Cold War, and closely witnessed the erection of the Berlin Wall. He was also a spectator to the greatest espionage scandal in his country’s history — the unmasking of British intelligence agent Kim Philby as a Soviet spy. A significant portion of the movie is devoted to this episode, during which le Carré excitedly offers his theories about why Philby continued to provide information to the Soviets even after being identified, humiliated, and then exonerated.

Philby, le Carré says, was addicted to control, both tactile and intangible. His treason wasn’t ideological; it was a power trip, pure and simple. This, le Carré reasons, was also what probably drew his father to lead an unmoored lifestyle at the expense of those around him. Everything, he discovers, keeps coming back to Ronnie Cornwell.

Familiar with interrogation tactics from his time as a secret service agent, le Carré assures Morris that he is determined to speak plainly on camera. He is keenly aware that this might be his last chance to come clean, as it were. He was right, of course; he died in 2020, shortly after this film was shot. But there isn’t a single moment where he isn’t in complete control of the conversation. He reveals only as much as he comfortably wants to, or, more precisely, only as much as he thinks will satisfy Morris. If they weren’t so cordial to each other, The Pigeon Tunnel would be indistinguishable from psychological warfare.

Despite never being seen on camera, Morris is a near-constant presence in the film. “Sometimes you’re a spectral figure,” le Carré says. “Sometimes you’re present, and sometimes you’re god.” In The Pigeon Tunnel, Morris is all three. He is curious but never caustic; his voice is jaunty, but never jarringly so. Making ample use of his trademark ‘Interrotron’ technique — a clever mirror device through which Morris locks eye-contact with his subjects to get them to lower their guard — the filmmaker deploys an ambitiously acrobatic style in The Pigeon Tunnel.

He films le Carré in Dutch angles, with the frame often so disorientating that it feels like we’re viewing it through shattered glass. The interview is punctuated by footage from the many film adaptations of le Carré’s books, archive photos plastered across in Morris’ typical news-clipping style, and dramatic recreations that resurface from time to time like memories in le Carré’s mind. And then there’s the ever-so-gentle suggestion that it is entirely conceivable for the son of a conman to be one himself. Forever fascinated by the concept of betrayal, le Carré seems to enjoy toying with the audience, on one occasion going out of his way to tell Morris, and by extension us, to not blindly believe everything that he says. His books were a blend of fact and fiction; it makes sense for The Pigeon Tunnel to be just as difficult to pin down.

The Pigeon Tunnel
Director – Errol Morris
Rating – 4/5