At one point in Steven Spielberg's "Bridge of Spies," protagonist James Donovan (Tom Hanks) takes the S-Bahn from East Berlin back to his shabby lodgings on the western side. As the train traverses the Berlin Wall, Donovan looks out the window. From a distance he can see a few people scale the wall and then get gunned down from patrol. Most of this sequence is from Donovan's perspective, close enough to affect him, but still too distant to really affect him.

This moment in many ways defines Spielberg's latest movie, an effort that views a rather complex situation from a distance, keeping its hero and the audience always feeling safe. The result is a film that lacks any sense of suspense or danger. The brutality is at a remove, giving the film a feeling of disinterest and making it a chore for the viewer.

Set in the midst of the Cold War, the film follows Donovan as he is assigned to defend a supposed Russian spy and then seek out a way to exchange him for an American spy and an American student held by the Soviet Union and the Eastern Germans respectively.

The first shot of the film is undeniably the most fascinating with Russian Rudolf Abel (Mark Rylance) looking at himself in the mirror. As the camera dollies away into a wider shot, we see that Rudolf is painting himself, his clothes in the mirror inverted from those in the painting. Nothing is as it seems and duplicity is at the core of everything. The ensuing sequence finds Rudolf being followed by a suspicious group of men. Because we have not been properly introduced to the characters, the audience has no idea who to side with, emphasizing the ambiguity of the characters that stems from the opening image. It leads to a fascinating sequence that unfortunately represents the high point of the film. From there it is one predictable sequence after another.

Donovan obviously provides a moral compass in this dubious world, yet there is never a sense that he will ever be in any grave danger. He is not afraid to stand up to anyone representing the archetypal American hero who bows down to know one. Unfortunately, no one really puts up much of a fight against him. Even when his house is shot at, there seem to be no major consequences for the family, with everyone still in one piece. Spielberg does not portray his family putting up much resistance toward his defending Rudolf despite everyone knowing it is a death sentence for him. And when he eventually makes his way to Berlin, his chance encounters with the horrors of the Cold War are scant and as noted in the opening paragraph, at a remove.

The two American prisoners are rarely showed in any grave peril. Francis Powers (Austin Stowell), the American spy, is questioned a few times before being thrown in a shabby cell. Yet how poorly he is treated is not explored at all. The situation is even more vague for Fredric Pryor (Will Rogers) who is shown in a cell. We barely know him enough to care about him the way that Donovan seems to; Donovan of course has never seen the kid but feels it his American duty to save him.

It also does not help that once Donovan is meeting with his adversaries that the resistance is rather meek at best. There is some conflict, but hardly any major obstacles to make the audience ever feel that the outcome is in doubt. And as with many Spielberg films, the ending plays on his touch for the sentimental.

Hanks does his best to play the optimistic Donovan, wise-cracking here and there and maintaining a rather positive aura amidst the conflict. The reality is that the character is rather one-dimensional, a man who plays more like a symbol than a real human being. In fact, by the time his journey has ended it is hard to feel that Donovan has really undergone any transformative journey, everything really coming down to how people's perceptions of him have changed.

He is of course the moral center of the movie, but undoubtedly a rather uninteresting one in such an ambiguous context where everyone is a hero in his mind and villain in that of others.

The tonal shifts are often rather frustrating as well. Joel and Ethan Coen (also known as the Coen Brothers) penned the script alongside Matt Charman and have injected some of their wit and charm into the picture. Yet Spielberg often seems rather uncomfortable with handling this material, the jokes coming off rather heavy-handed and the tonal shifts becoming awkward. Take one scene where Donovan comes in contact with Abel supposed family. The characters seem over-the-top in their delivery, especially in the context of a movie that to this point has maintained a rather understated approach in its acting style. A few scenes later, Donovan encounters a German officer who fumbles with the telephone in another joke that fails to land. The character would have fit in beautifully in a Coen Brother's film, but sticks out like a sore thumb in Spielberg's universe.

Then comes the question of Thomas Newman's score. Those familiar with Spielberg's films know that John Williams is a crucial part of his oeuvre. This is the first film since 1985 that Spielberg has made a film without his close associate and it shows. In fact, Newman seems to be trying to imitate Williams with a few heroic fanfares here and some pulsating strings there, but ultimately the score is rather lifeless. This is a rather subjective statement, but those familiar with the synergy present in every Williams-Spielberg collaboration will find that dynamic sorely lacking with Newman's contributions.

If there is one thing that really makes this film stand out, it is Janusz Kaminski's cinematography. He plays with the power of shadow and darkness throughout, often encasing major players in silhouettes. It harkens back to imagery of the 1950's Hollywood with horizontal lines in the mis-en-scene often emphasizing a sense of imprisonment by the characters. Pay attention to how often Donovan is encased in something or shot behind horizontal or vertical lines. Or how often he is framed in between other characters that surround him. There are also a few scenes in which the windows are overexposed, creating a blinding feeling for the characters in conversation. This too emphasizes the moral ambiguity that other characters are hiding from Donovan, their motives never clear.

Yet all of the pieces of "Bridge of Spies" amount to a disjointed film that seems rather intent on its message at the cost of palpable suspense or drama. Some might be attracted to the feel-good vibes and optimism of the narrative, yet there is a lot left to desire about Spielberg and company's decision to gloss over the details in the search for explicit ideology.