Maybe it’s worthy of the awards it received—or at least watching the whole movie—but I couldn’t get past the first two minutes. Bridge of Spies is a collaboration of some of the best filmmakers in history. I gotta be missing something. So please, explain it to me like a five-year-old, how the combination of these flaws make sense:
Acting on heavy surveillance (with screeching tires and stomping feet) a slew of FBI agents charge into a Soviet spy’s apartment. They know he’s a spy, calling him by his rank of Colonel.
Despite being swarmed by agents with guns drawn, he doesn’t act surprised. (So just in case they didn’t already know he’s a spy, couldn’t be more suspicious.)
In thirty seconds the spy somehow convinces them that (despite being a spy) he’s just a doddering old painter. The FBI guys vigorously tear apart the apartment searching for evidence while the spy (under the pretense of saving his paints) gets up destroys the most vital evidence.
This makes no sense.
At that time America was hysterical over the threat of communism — imprisoning suspected “commies” for no reason. During this infamously unjust McCarthy era, commies were utterly reviled—the FBI guys wouldn’t give two shits if his paints dried. Any person, spy or not, accused of being a commie would be desperate and capable of anything. Spies routinely carried cyanide capsules, committing suicide before allowing capture—they’d have had him in handcuffs immediately, as every cop does with any common thief.
The scene is supposed to showcase a crafty Soviet spy besting America’s agents as the audience watches in agony, but are we supposed to believe that FBI agents could possibly be this colossally stupid on so many levels? Plus ignore the most basic yokel police procedures—again, at least cuffs for the Soviet spy, like every street cops does with every suspect?
In just two minutes this bundle of contradictions make for a huge writing flaw, ruining the movie out of the gate.
Six academy award nominations involving the most talented filmmakers, but it feels more like the emperor’s new clothes. So I’m begging you, tell me what I’m missing. Until someone–anyone can explain this debacle, I’m not watching another second.
