The Bureau’s Guillaume Debailly Is One of the Spy Genre’s Greatest Characters
Photo Courtesy of Sundance TV
The original idea behind this essay was to direct your attention to The Bureau, the French espionage thriller that can be seen by Americans on Amazon Prime and, after two free episodes, with the Sundance add-on. That would have been fine; the show is smart, beautifully written, tense, and well-acted, and belongs in a league with recent miniseries gems like The Night Manager and Little Drummer Girl. The difference is that there are 50 episodes to digest here, and at least so far—I’m in the middle of the second season, burning through the episodes at an indecent pace—there hasn’t been any dip in quality. I’m years behind, but it’s been one of my favorite TV discoveries of 2021.
And yet, when I think about this show (which is happening a lot lately), I end up going back to one character: Guillaume Debailly, aka Malotru, an intelligence officer at the French DGSE (their CIA) who spends six years undercover in Syria before returning to Paris and quickly becoming one of the organization’s leaders. He’s played by Mathieu Kassovitz, a well-known film director, and I’m not sure I’ve seen a more riveting combination of character + performance, at least in the world of spy TV.
A big part of the draw is that he’s living a double life, but that feels like too basic a description; how many spy shows, after all, don’t include a character living a double life? Debailly, who goes by Paul Lefebvre, brings us deeper into the psyche of what it takes to be truly good at his job, and the show itself isn’t afraid to question his motivations. On the surface, the thing that gets him into trouble on his return to Paris—I’ll be intentionally vague to avoid spoilers—can be seen as an act of love. But as a psychiatrist who also works for the DGSE tells him, it’s more than that. He has an addiction to the thrill of duplicity, and to emerge from that is shocking and disquieting, and he has the urge to jump straight back into the dynamic. It undermines what looks like noble intent, and hints at the egotism and even narcissism of those who play god by adopting fake personas, becoming close with people under false pretenses, and coercing or outright manipulating them.
The late John LeCarre started out as an intelligence officer, and though he was close-lipped about his actual job, interviewing defectors was part of it. He wrote later about employing all his social skills to catch these people out; seeming to befriend them, cajole them, and paint himself as an ally in order to extract the wrong word that could spoil their entire lives. Even when he was right, it made him feel guilty, and what he did was a far cry from the life of a true undercover spy. The work can be noble, but to be truly great, The Bureau posits, you have to be something of a sociopath.