FilmReview

Colin Farrell happily embraces his inner loser like no other leading man ever

Ballad of a Small Player review: The Irish actor plays the most doomed addict since Nicolas Cage in Leaving Las Vegas

Ballad of a Small Player: Colin Farrell in Edward Berger's film. Photograph: Netflix
Ballad of a Small Player: Colin Farrell in Edward Berger's film. Photograph: Netflix
Ballad of a Small Player
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Director: Edward Berger
Cert: 15A
Starring: Colin Farrell, Fala Chen, Deanie Ip, Alex Jennings, Tilda Swinton
Running Time: 1 hr 43 mins

Edward Berger is developing into the sort of film-maker we didn’t know we needed. With All Quiet on the Western Front and Conclave, he has demonstrated a gift for making muscular dramas that appeal to wide audiences without any conspicuous dumbing down.

Ballad of a Small Player, adapted from a novel by Lawrence Osborne, feels like a reward for directing back-to-back best-picture nominees. It is not that out there. It does not dwell among silent monks on a remote archipelago. It is not spoken in Phoenician. But the narrative thrust of his two previous films gives way to a more sickening momentum.

“Lord” Doyle, a hopeless gambler adrift in Macao, is going in just one direction: down, down, down. Colin Farrell eats the part alive. The deathly ambience is skilfully called up. We expect the odd hopeful reversal, but this is the most doomed cinematic addict since Nicolas Cage’s boozer in Leaving Las Vegas.

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Berger wastes no time in trumping that American city’s reputation as gambling capital of the world. The betting turnover in the Chinese city is more than seven times that of its comparatively civilised competitor. We get a sense of the well-appointed hell as Doyle wakes up to a hotel suite littered with the detritus of high living. Bottles everywhere. Clothes scattered randomly. A pool table soiled by the bottoms of drained glasses.

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Doyle has reached the last line of credit with the establishment. After some transparent lying and obfuscation – it is a “bank holiday” back in London – he wangles a few days grace, but his luck at the baccarat table need to change sharpish.

That is really all there is to the plot. Rather than dealing in complications, the plot happens upon interruptions. Tilda Swinton, whose overworked costume would be more at home in a Wes Anderson film, fights gallantly against miscasting as a mousy private detective dispatched to exact revenge for a particularly cynical act of embezzlement on Doyle’s part. The protagonist connects with a casino hostess – Fala Chen tries hard with an odd part – who seems more trusting than anybody in that job would plausibly be.

It is hard to imagine Ballad of a Small Player staying aloft without a star turn such as the one Farrell delivers. Few other leading men have been quite so happy to embrace their inner loser over the years. You didn’t see Steve McQueen attempting the pathos Farrell generated in The Lobster, In Bruges or The Banshees of Inisherin.

Doyle is undeniably a hopeless fraud. The English accent has a hint of fragility – and, sure enough, when he is put under stress, the character’s true Dublin vowels come clattering out. As someone points out, Doyle isn’t a posh name. He’s not even a good fake. The velvet jacket is too flashy. The mustard-coloured gloves are absurd.

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The trick here is to connect with the compromises even the most decent man makes when presented with the greatest catastrophe. Might there be a way he can win and pay back all those who deserve it?

The hints of Hades all around suggest this is not the sort of city for happy endings. Berger has great fun embracing a spectacular vulgarity that thrives on the emptiest class of greed. Everywhere is blare, noise and confusion, but he also finds time to connect with an old city – inner-city slums and waterside houseboats – that could (and almost does in the person of Alex Jennings’s fraudulent roue) welcome characters from a W Somerset Maugham story.

It remains to be seen if viewers feel that well-constructed ambience compensates for a rickety edit that feels hurried and half-finished. A classy film that doesn’t entirely make sense.

In cinemas from Friday, October 17th. Streams on Netflix from October 29th.