Tip of the Week: The Good Shepherd

A WASP Godfather, “The Good Shepherd,” directed with restraint by Robert De Niro from Eric Roth’s brilliant screenplay about the origins of modern spycraft, has a patience and command that accrues to a devastating conclusion. It draws on a number of notorious incidents involving American spies, but primarily works in roman à clef territory by basing the story’s Edward Wilson (Matt Damon) on OSS-man-turned-CIA-architect James Jesus Angleton. Explicit also is the influence of Yale and its Skull & Crossbones secret society, to which George H. W. Bush and William F. Buckley, both later CIA agents, belonged. Henry Luce, George W. Bush, members of the Heinz family and John Kerry are also Bonesmen. (There’s a knowing subplot involving Nazi sympathizers that coincides with members who had companies confiscated in World War II for trading with the enemy.) Working in the density of the best spy novels, and criss-crossing almost twenty-five years of history, encompassing World War II, the reconstruction of Europe and 1961’s Bay of Pigs fiasco, Roth is comfortable in LeCarre territory, and Damon’s performance is worthy of comparison to those of Alec Guinness in similar roles. While the near-autistic reserve of Wilson’s intent powers of observation may put off some viewers—Damon, often shielded behind large horn-rims, is playing the most passive of characters—yet the power of the central dilemma grows from the analysis of how power can emanate more from concealment than display. While he’s a star-crossed double in “The Departed,” in “The Good Shepherd” he is the cipher who will kill you without a glimmer of hesitation. De Niro’s film might have gained from greater momentum as the picture moves past its second hour, but it’s still a fascinating, fully inhabited world, never descending to mere conspiracy theory. With John Turturro, William Hurt, Angelina Jolie, Michael Gambon, Billy Crudup, Timothy Hutton, Joe Pesci, the great Alec Baldwin and De Niro. Nicely designed by Jeannine Oppewall, shot by Robert Richardson (“JFK”); inventively scored by Marcelo Zarvos and Bruce Fowler. 156m. 2.39:1 anamorphic widescreen. (Ray Pride)