Seeking redemption in a city of neon

 

    Director Edward Berger is best known for his stunning remake of All Quiet on the Western Front (2022) and his box office hit Conclave (2024). Both movies qualify as well-made conventional offerings, movies dealing with battlefield horror during World War I and political intrigue within the Catholic church on the cusp of selecting a new pope.

  Berger's latest, Ballad of a Small Player, represents a shift, a movie that can be viewed as an adventurous -- if not entirely successful -- spiritual journey. I'm talking about religion, but about the journey of a desperate man who -- not entirely willingly -- seeks his freedom.

   The story centers on an Irishman (Colin Farrell) on the run. Having landed in Macau, Farrell's character adopts an upperclass British accent and becomes a regular at the baccarat tables. He calls himself Lord Freddie Doyle, but he’s slippery enough to slide off the screen.

    Berger veers from what could have been a standard noir offering, opting instead for high-gloss glamor; he revels in Macau's neon lure, and the charged sense of hope that animates a city that has been called the Las Vegas of Asia. Ballad of a Small Player might be the most brightly lit noir ever.

    Doyle’s troubles center on money, beginning with an unpaid hotel bill of $145,000 Hong Kong dollars that launches his compulsive attempt to win enough  to pay off his debts, including money he stole from an elderly British woman.

    A British investigator (Tilda Swinton) arrives in Macau, threatening to turn Doyle over to the authorities if he doesn’t return the money he stole. Doyle — who sweats a lot — does his best to evade her. Despite significant evidence to the contrary, he  continues to believe he can win enough at baccarat to solve his problems. 

     Farrell sinks into the role, creating a tragic figure — a compulsive gambler who has no control over his life, but tries to convince himself that he’s master of his fate. 

      It's obvious to us that Doyle can't beat the odds, a point that's reinforced by an older woman (Deanie Ip) who plays against Doyle at the baccarat table. An oracle of misfortune, she immediately pegs Doyle's as a hopeless loser. At the same time, he meets Dao Ming (Fala Chen), a loan shark who becomes an increasingly mysterious ally and a pivotal figure in moving the story.

       Once Berger sets the pieces in place, he turns his movie into a modern fairy tale that makes room for references to Hungry Ghosts — insatiable creatures of the afterlife — the unexplained appearance of a large sum of money, and a near-magical turnaround in Doyle’s sagging fortunes.

       Working from a screenplay credited to Rowan Joffe and Lawrence Osborne, who wrote the novel on which the movie is based, Berger doesn’t bother to dot every “i” or cross every “t." He pushes the movie into a metaphoric world in which Doyle must redeem himself by paying off his debts, both financial and spiritual. At times, the story feels as if it’s unfolding in a neon-lit dreamscape.

      That’s a big burden not only for Doyle but for a movie whose themes are expressed in ways many will find obscure and confusion, meaning dropped into a color-drenched mess.

       I understand that point of view, but I'm also glad to see Berger, like the hero of his movie, overreach. In so doing, he sounds surprising notes and finds moments of strange resonance. I'm eager to see where he goes next.

Maggie Smith is the 'Lady in the Van'

The story of a homeless woman and the playwright who helped ... er ... tolerated her.

Homeless and a bit hostile, Mary Shepherd became a fixture in the London neighborhood where she parked her decaying van. Vagrant that she was, the feisty Shepherd eventually was allowed to park her van in the driveway of playwright Alan Bennett.

Amazingly, both Shepherd and the van remained in Bennett's driveway for 15 years. She sometimes popped into Bennett's home to use the bathroom. She became a part of his life -- albeit in frequently frustrating ways.

The Lady in the Van tells Shepherd's story, which in 1999 became the subject of a Bennett-written play starring Maggie Smith. On screen, Smith reprises her role as a woman of demonstrative opinions and slovenly personal habits.

Alternately exasperated and caring, Bennett (played here by Alex Jennings) tolerates Shepherd's presence long past the point where most of us would have found a way to move her somewhere else.

Director Nicholas Hytner, who directed The Madness of King George, which Bennett also wrote, sometimes shows us two versions of Bennett, both played by Jennings. One Bennett represents the writer; the other, a man trying to handle life's ordinary burdens. Not surprisingly, they argue.

If any actress knows how turn a line of dialogue into an ego-piercing dart, it's Smith, and the material gives her ample opportunity to emphasize the spikiest parts of Shepherd's personality.

Additional plot currents appear: During Shepherd's 15-year-residence in Bennett's driveway, the playwright's mother slipped into the fog of dementia. Bennett seems to pay more attention to Shepherd than to his own mother.

I could have done without references to Shepherd's decreasing bowel control, but, even in rags, Smith remains her estimable acting self.

That self has a reliable candor, as well as a capacity to touch us. At one point in her life, Shepherd was a budding concert pianist. Smith makes us aware that something valuable has been lost in a life that has veered off the tracks.

It may not be more anecdotal than epic, but Lady in the Van should be welcomed for giving Smith an opportunity to add another memorable character to an already substantial portfolio.