John LeCarre’ is the greatest spy novelist alive today. He has been the greatest for decades. Since The Spy Who Came in from the Cold debuted in 1963, his métier has been Cold War espionage, the Russians and the British: MI6 against the KGB and all its sister agencies in Eastern Europe. Many of his books were made into BBC series, and others became feature films. I found it remarkable that based his 1995 book of the same name, The Night Manager miniseries debuted on AMC Tuesday of this week. It’s remarkable because the story centers on a super-rich British national who runs arms and manages laundered money from the Caribbean (some of it perhaps for members of parliament or the ministry) and in the

Criminal, starring Kevin Costner, has a good cast and a compelling plot, but more than once during the movie I muttered “Ug, Gamah!”—which is “Oh, come on!” with a mouthful of popcorn.  I have a story to inject here. It was the Camelview Theater (which to my horror, was torn down last fall) near Fashion Square Mall in Scottsdale, Arizona. I was attending a private screening of “The Postman,” a Costner-starred-and-directed film.  My friend Linda saved the seats while I got the popcorn and soda. When I got to the salon, she was sitting in a rear section that had been roped off for cast and crew. She waved me in. Some guys from the film had invited her to sit in the reserved section.

Sometimes, moments after I read and digest it, there’s a headline that has an ominous quality about it. When I read about the leak of material from the Panamanian law firm Massack Fonseca, I sensed a socio-seismic event that could send shockwaves through the upper crust of the globe. There is so much material here—much it in a web of phony corporations and cutouts–that it will take weeks and months for all of it to come out. There are already hundreds of journalists working on the story, and there can be no doubt that it will include more big, big names. This gradual flow of facts might be for the best: there is so much pure Truth here that, like light or oxygen, we can’t

Sally Field is as charming as she’s ever been, even when she’s playing someone who has her not-so-charming moments. Hello, My Name is Doris is a worthy little independent film about a 60-something single woman who bursts out of her shell and her sheltered world when she forms and feeds a crush on a new employee at work. “John” is at least young enough to be her son, but he’s authentic enough to show her some attention. Because Doris is hyped-up on a steady diet of romance novels, her imagination is working overtime with every interaction they have: she’s a kind of “Dona” Quixote and John her “Dulcineo.” The supporting cast does well enough, but Tyne Daly, in the role of a best friend, stands out