The British crime genera has given us some crackers over the years. Get Carter, Layer Cake, The Italian Job, Lock Stock, Sexy Beast, so when a new one comes along you usually take note. Dom Hemingway sets a new bar for this kind of film, a really, really low bar.
Jude Law plays Dom Hemingway, a larger-than-life safe-cracker with a loose fuse who is funny, profane, and dangerous. After twelve years in prison, he sets off with his partner in crime Dickie (Richard E. Grant) looking to collect what he’s owed for keeping his mouth shut and protecting his boss Mr. Fontaine (Demian Bichir). After a near death experience, Dom tries to re-connect with his estranged daughter (Emilia Clarke), but is soon drawn back into the only world he knows, looking to settle the ultimate debt.
Opening with a overly long and unfunny speech about his nether regions, Jude Law packs on the pounds and arrogance to give us a loud, brash and crude character. His time in prison, loss of freedom and estrangement from his family should be enough to set him onto a redemptive arc but no, if anything the man who leaves prison (amidst a ticker tape parade for some reason) is even worse than before. After release, he embarks on a sojourn to France in a Fear and Loathing-esque jaunt to seek recompense from his former employer, the man who he went to jail for.
His later attempts to reconnect with his daughter Evelyn (Emilia Clarke) bring out a more touching, emotional side of the man. The intertwining of these plot strands sees sudden shifts from a seemingly broken Dom to the arrogant cock-swinging man again. A curious juxtaposition handled with little grace or purpose giving the character and movie a bipolar feel.
The film looks good, with its crazy amble through the French countryside and in particular the seedy criminal underbelly of London. There are also quirky title cards employed reminiscent of an old Chaplin movie or Wes Anderson effort that raise a small smile but this is all gloss applied to a narrative devoid of structure and a script lacking coherence.
Law’s over the top efforts are noted but are undermined by the film insisting that its central character is some magnificent bastard rather than demonstrating it. The film does nothing to convince you of his legendary status instead expecting you to simply embrace the notion. His elevation and self aggrandizing grates throughout. Richard E. Grant, fresh off his recent (and fantastic) turn on Girls, sadly gives an insipid performance of a man so poorly written he relies on an artificial hand to give him artificial depth. Emilia Clarke (Game of Thrones) is the one glimmer of hope. She possesses a real genuine quality and when on screen makes you think you are watching a different, better film dealing with the redemption and change that Hemingway needs. Her Evelyn is one of the more nuanced parts of the film, warm but tempered by the cynicism that having a father like Dom will no doubt create. An underused talent and character.
The majority of the blame must be laid at writer/director Richard Shepard’s feet for creating an unlikeable pig of a man as well as the bile that spews forth from his mouth. His attempt to craft a character drawing inspiration from excess, seemingly limited to personality quirks such as a version of Tourette’s where one curse word is insufficient and only a unstoppable torrent of them will do. Each time Dom shows some depth and decency it is quickly lost, buried under another onslaught of dialogue or actions that reinforce what a thoroughly unlikeable character he is.
Shepard has demonstrated an aptitude for writing amoral, likeable fuck-ups with his previous work The Matador. In that film Pierce Brosnan’s protagonist, a hitman going through something of a mid-life crisis, is a far more sympathetic character. While both films deal with similar themes, The Matador balances the seedy dark comedy tone more successfully than Dom Hemingway where the end result is more repellant rather than risque.
Despite the colorful, over the top efforts of Jude Law, the character and film fails to elicit any real laughs or sympathy. It is a crass, clunky endeavor with a narrative that lacks any real charm or redemptive qualities. It aims to be both funny and dramatic, failing in both respects and settling into mediocrity and sentimentality.
Dom Hemingway is in theaters from April 18th.
