Reviews
Ballad of a Small Player
When it was announced that director Edward Berger, fresh off the success of one of 2024’s best films Conclave, would team up with Colin Farrell for an adaptation of a novel about a gambling addict and con man, it instantly shot to the top of my most anticipated movies of the year. Sadly, the result is a case of style over substance. For me, it ends up as one of the year’s biggest disappointments, a film that tries to say a great deal but never really manages to say anything meaningful by the time it reaches its conclusion.
The movie follows Lord Doyle (Colin Farrell), an apparent high roller struggling to survive in Macau, the gambling capital of the world. With a posh London accent reminiscent of the Royal Family, Doyle carries himself with a sense of style and confidence that could convince even the most sceptical observer. However, it quickly becomes clear that all is not as it seems. Doyle owes money to almost everyone, particularly the hotel where he is staying, which threatens police action if a bill amounting to a small fortune is not settled within three days.
In an act of sheer desperation, Doyle’s only apparent way out of this black hole is the game of baccarat. It quickly becomes evident that he is dealing with a crippling gambling addiction, convinced that one high-stakes win will solve all his problems. His biggest issue, however, is a lack of funds. Enter Dao Ming (Fala Chen), a Chinese creditor willing to bankroll Doyle’s games, though she is hiding a few secrets of her own. There is a hint of chemistry between the two, but like many elements in Ballad of a Small Player, it is never explored in any real depth.
If Doyle’s life did not seem bad enough already, Cynthia (Tilda Swinton) appears as a private investigator sent by clients back in the UK. It is painfully obvious that her character exists mainly to deliver exposition and fill in Doyle’s backstory, revealing the trail of cons that have funded his lifestyle up to this point. While Swinton is reliably excellent whenever she is on screen, it is ultimately a minor role that feels unnecessary beyond adding a bit more peril and context to Doyle’s situation.
Undoubtedly, Ballad of a Small Player is at its strongest in the opening third. The introduction of Doyle and the depiction of a crippling gambling addiction form an important and timely story that may remind those in similar circumstances that they are not alone. Having gone through something similar myself when I was younger, it is powerful to see that experience reflected on the big screen. Unfortunately, once other plotlines are introduced, many of them feel underdeveloped or like simple time fillers. As a result, the film drags, and despite a runtime of under two hours, it feels considerably longer by the end.
There are elements outside the exploration of gambling to genuinely admire in Ballad of a Small Player. Visually, it is striking and a delight to watch. The bright lights and neon hues of Macau are transcendent on screen, creating some stunningly composed frames. At the same time, they take on an eerie, almost hellish quality for anyone who has suffered at the hands of the global conglomerates that dominate the gambling skylines. Cinematographer James Friend deserves considerable credit for making it all feel immersive.
Colin Farrell, as an upper-class English gentleman in his vibrant and colourful suits, is a joy to watch. He takes the material and elevates it to another level. Having been in that position myself, down to the last penny betting on a hand, the pain and desperation etched across Farrell’s face feel entirely authentic. It is a thoroughly enjoyable performance, and even when the movie wavers, you can always sit back and appreciate what he brings to the screen.
However, despite there being plenty to like, the overwhelming sense is that everything after the opening acts loses its way considerably. The script feels weak, offering little for the audience to engage with, and the pacing is uneven, like a rollercoaster with one major dip before everything else coasts to a stop. When the story is built on such pertinent and relatable source material, it is remarkable how little it manages to say that feels fresh or meaningful.
There are certainly all the right pieces in theory to make Ballad of a Small Player an exciting and intense project, one that, given Berger’s track record, could have been among the most memorable films of the year. Instead, it ends up feeling superficial, devolving into a dull and unremarkable story that will be forgotten almost immediately. Considering Berger’s recent hot streak, it stands as one of the most surprising misfires of the year.
