While the interviews are largely quite banal, thanks to Song’s expressive performance, they are intriguing. But the picture loses what steam it had once we get to the final two chapters, where the actress is required to transcribe what she remembers of the conversations, memorise them and then perform them for her acting coach.

The script may be a litany of cliches but there’s grit here too, and the vein of documentary truth that pulses behind some rather brazen nationalistic French virtue-signalling keeps us watching.

When Sichel attempted to write his memoirs, the CIA returned the manuscript with endless suggested redactions. They argued that if a journalist had written the book it would have been considered mere speculation, but with his name attached it would have become confirmation. The Last Spy affords him the privilege of having the final word.