Movie Review: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011)

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011)

3 out of 5 stars

I really should have read the book by John le Carré first and I have no excuse for not doing so.  I own a paperback edition of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy and know exactly where it resides in my library.  I had hoped that by not reading the novel, I would be enjoy the film and be ‘surprised’ as it unfolded.  For the most part, I felt confused by the plot and unconvinced by the players.  I did not expect to make a connection with any of the characters.  Spies rarely come across as very likeable or sympathetic, not if they are doing their jobs well.  Only the character of Ricki Tarr came close, but I suspect that was the intention of the author and director.

Tinker Tailer Soldier Spy is a slow paced spy film for such a fast paced generation.  I enjoyed the period cars, costumes and locations.  The state-of-the-art spy tech of the period contrasts nicely with our current high-tech mobile instant gratification society, where privacy has shrunk to near nonexistence for most average citizens – the price we pay for convenience?  But I’ll leave that to another post and another day.

Remembering Roxy: Mutililated Mouse Trap

Roxy (Christmas 2010)

Training a Rottweiler can challenge your patience.  Roxy’s downfall came with keeping her out of the trash can.  We bought several different types of cans, none of which kept her from her goal.  We mentioned our frustration to our family dog trainer.  She suggested we put a mouse trap on top of the trash when we leave the house or go to bed.  We eagerly tried this suggestion.

Terry placed the mouse trap gingerly on top of the trash in a nearly full trash can.  We left the lid off.  I happened to be in the kitchen, probably making some bread.  I heard Roxy nudging at the trash, but didn’t look over my shoulder.  I didn’t hear the snap of a mouse trap either.  A few minutes later, I did hear loud crunching sounds from the great room.  I went in to find Roxy gripping the mouse trap between her front paws and chewing it to pieces.  I stood there in shock, just shaking my head.  I made Roxy stop masticating the poor mouse trap and hollered for Terry to come up from the band room.  He busted out laughing the minute he realized what she had done.  He gathered up the remaining pieces of the mutilated mouse trap and placed them in a quart-sized Ziplock bag.

The next time we saw our dog trainer (at church the following Sunday), we delivered the pieces of the mouse trap to her and asked for a different idea for keeping Roxy out of the trash.  She and her husband had a good laugh, even mentioning that perhaps the abused trap should be framed as she’d never before had a Rottweiler bypass this preventative measure.

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