Up until 18 months ago, David Callan (Edward Woodward) had worked as a professional killer for an especially secretive branch of the SIS, tasked with the very democratic job of getting rid of undesirable people by everything from "just" ruining to outright killing them. His boss Hunter (Eric Porter) has retired Callan, though, feeling that his former best man's habits, among them alcoholism and a growing conscience, made him unfit for his work.
Callan's retirement bonus is a classic shit job in the office of an equally classic irascible little man who very much needs to be called "Sir".
Callan still fights with his alcoholism, his feelings of guilt leading to nightmares, getting parked in a nowhere job with no future to speak of obviously working on his self esteem (not to speak of his mood).
But - if fortunately or unfortunately is hard to say - Hunter would like to take Callan back into the fold, providing Callan has come round to being "reasonable" again. He will just have to prove his loyalty and abilities by killing a certain Schneider (Carl Möhner) without complete company backup. Funny, for some reason Hunter even insists on Callan getting himself a gun on his own. One could start to develop feelings of distrust towards one's superiors.
Fear of being used as a scapegoat is not Callan's only problem, of course: his conscience still isn't gone down the drain and makes the thought of murdering someone in cold blood abhorrent to him, something that surely isn't helped by Hunter's refusal to explain the reasons why he wants to see Schneider dead. So Callan's going to find that one out on his own. It's not getting any easier when he gets to know his future victim and finds Schneider to be a man very much like himself, damaged, dangerous, definitely not a "good" person but no monster.
Callan, directed by old TV and b-picture pro Don Sharp, is based on the pilot episode for a British TV show of the same name. As spy films go, this is very much on the dark, grim and more realistic side of the equation. You won't find any suave and smooth-talking ex-bodybuilders here, nor are there any gadgets around. On the other hand, the film's tone is a little too exciting, but also too skeptical when compared to the works of someone like Le Carre (whose world view is certainly not friendly, but still seems to be based on a conviction of the necessity and basic moral rightness of spycraft, a conviction Callan very much lacks) to be part of that wing of the genre.
In other words, it's a film seemingly written directly for my special tastes - the story of a man who is quite lost, damaged and trying not to lose the little humanity he has left, which is rather difficult for someone whose main talent is killing.
The film is very good at telling this type of story, with Sharp's direction not necessarily inspired but always capable enough to create a convincing atmosphere of claustrophobia and a subtle tenseness that sometimes erupts into short bursts of violence. Unlike what one would expect, the film isn't drenched (if you can call it that) in grey, its colours are instead a variety of many drab brown tones that are just as depressing. Britain here seems a very small and ugly place, even the relatively few location shots are carefully chosen to emphasize that mood. It's not a place you'd want to kill for, so much is sure.
The plot proceeds methodically and (for some viewers perhaps too) deliberately, while what action happens is kept short and rather naturalistic. There is a lot of subtle character work through details to be found here, kept low-key by excellent acting and a script that mostly (there are two or three moments of surprising bluntness) trusts in the viewer's ability to think.
I can't end this without mentioning Edward Woodward's excellent performance which alone would be enough to carry a film without much else to recommend. Here, Woodward's work is just one part of a very fine whole.
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