Short Take: "War Horse" and "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy"

We get it, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is trying to show us how spying was done in the pre-internet, pre-GPS days, but few espionage thrillers have ever felt as downtrodden and well, lacking in thrills as Tomas Alfredson's adaptation of John LeCarré's novel. Gary Oldman stars as the iconic George Smiley, a British intelligence agent whose methods are as laconic as the underrated actor's ability to insert himself so effortlessly into all his characters.
With extreme attention to detail and an earthy color palette - as well as stylized 70s camera moves - by DP Hoyte Van Hoytema, the film concentrates enough on the surroundings and period details, that it forgets that there's a story to be told, and more importantly as it should be in most spy films, there is a mystery to be solved.
In this case the British suspect there is a Communist mole in their organization, but ask anyone how they solve this and most will come to realize that at some point the movie lost their attention. Its execution is admirable but unless Alfredson was trying to make a point about the dullness of bureaucracy, or deglam crime as David Fincher expertly did in his masterful Zodiac, which he certainly doesn't seem to be doing, the film turns out to be an exercise in dullness in which elegant British actors are killed or double crossed while dressed in uninteresting khaki tones.

Out of all the popular directors from his generation, all of whom claim to be devoted cinephiles, Steven Spielberg seems to be the one who cultivated the most middlebrow taste. If not, ask yourself why of all John Ford's films, he had to choose the tepid How Green Was My Valley as his point of reference for War Horse?
There is nothing wrong with him liking Valley per se but to choose one of Ford's most inferior, albeit award winning, works is the equivalent of being an opera singer and doing Christina Aguilera covers. With that said, War Horse desperately tries to recreate what once was Hollywood's way of filmmaking: interior sets, excessive melodrama and strong family values. Spielberg is either paying tribute to the least challenging productions of an era or writing a guidebook on how to win Academy Awards.
Everything in War Horse feels like it belongs in a different era, and more often than not, it should've stayed there. What once was sweeping, now is obscenely manipulative and as a postmodernist exercise the film doesn't have much to say about the current world.
Human characters are perhaps unnecessary as the movie follows the title horse, named Joey, as he goes from owner to owner, surviving WWI in the process. Because we are asked to devote our attention to an animal, the film gets away with complex character development and tends to rely too much on just how adorable we find Joey. The horse, like some sort of Jesus or Forrest Gump, changes the lives of everyone he touches, which more often than not results in unintentional comedy.
It's truly sad to see actors like Mullan and Arestrup at the service of an equine but by the time when Watson is forced to do her frumpiest Jane Darwell impression, the film reaches new lows in how it so cynically tries to squeeze tears out of its audience.
War Horse should've inspired the old fashioned adjective "jolly", instead it goes all out on the preposterous "mush".

Grades
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy **
War Horse *

A Prophet ****

Director: Jacques Audiard
Cast: Tahar Rahim, Niels Arestrup
Adel Bencherif, Hichem Yacoubi, Jean-Philippe Ricci

"For We assuredly sent amongst every People a messenger."
Qur'an 16:36

The power of the signifié is at the front and center of Jacques Audiard's "A Prophet"; a film layered with such rich interpretations that you might even forget to be entertained by its refreshed genre conventions.
Malik El Djebena (Rahim) is nineteen when he lands in prison for assaulting cops (it's never clear if he committed the crime or not), he gets a six year sentence and is thrown to the wolves without a minimal sense of regret from the authorities.
Soon he's being abused by other inmates who steal his shoes and beat him and being a French Arab he doesn't know where he belongs in the courtyard.
He's approached by Reyeb (Yacoubi) an older Arab prisoner who offers him dope in exchange for a blowjob; he refuses, ignorant that this proposition has reached the ears of César Luciani (Arestrup); the Corsican mobster who runs things on the inside.
He needs Reyeb dead and Malik is the perfect guy for the job. Suddenly Malik is faced with two options: either he kills Reyeb or he's killed by Luciani's gang.
Without spoiling any plot twists, Malik finds an opportunity to become someone in this hostile environment, his rise to power being in direct opposition to the subjugation he endures under Luciani's command.
He starts relying on the Corsican protection arguing he's merely doing a job and as such remains in constant limbo, refusing to identify himself with any specific group.
It's this behavior that turns him into a messenger who can travel between gangs, races and social classes but keeps him completely isolated.
If Malik's story can be taken as an exploration of racial identification in young French Arabs it might also be approached as a take on the spiritual apathy in newer generations.
In this way Audiard makes his film a surprising amalgam of ideological and aesthetical currents, that can work as contemporary sociopolitical examination, Oedipal tragedy, spiritual reinvention or old fashioned gangster flick in the vein of Hawks' "Scarface".
By taking on the chameleonic properties of Malik, the movie might be the ultimate kind of character study which shares just as much as it conceals.
Rahim's performance is a naturalist beauty given how much his character evolves from the first scene up to the parabolic finale.
The young man seems completely unaware of the camera and allows it to enter his most intimate moments even when they occur in the most public of paces.
In one of the film's most symbolic scenes Malik is checked by airport security and almost instantly opens his mouth and reveals his tongue, giving the security guard the opportunity to check him like they do in jail.
This moment isn't interesting only because of the obvious way in which prison has inhabited Malik's psyche but also by the underlying theological symbolism it carries.
We realize that by standing with his arms extended parallel to the ground not only does he remind us of the crucifixion but the eventual ascension to the skies, in the plane of course, is literal enough to speak for itself.
Rahim never caves in under the allegorical weight Audiard puts over him and he carries the film in more than one way.
We can never really say we know who he is for sure (does he know himself for that matter?) and Rahim has the ability to become a vessel for our distinct perceptions in the same way Marcel Camus' lead character from "The Stranger" does. Is it a coincidence that they're both French Arabs? Perhaps not.
When to this you add the nuances Audiard puts into Malik's backstory to augment his symbolism (he's illiterate like the Qur'an suggests the last prophet was) you reach what might be one of the films most exciting ideas: can Camus become Muhammad?
If you were to reach this dilemma you will find yourself at the essence of what makes "A Prophet" such a brilliant work of art.
Different people will reach very different conclusions and Audiard's intention of "creating icons" for Arabs might come off as extreme blaspheme or brave postmodern intention.
Whatever your stand is, the director never digests your thoughts in advance, giving the film a profound ambiguity that sends audiences wondering about whether Malik deserves redemption or if he in fact has done himself justice.
If "A Prophet" indulges itself with excessive running time you can't put too much blame on it; it has so much to say that its power can not be contained.