In an era where the world’s wealthiest people are given far too much power and influence over the lives of ordinary people, there are few films that embody the spirit of the rousing call to “eat the rich” than Michael Winterbottom’s Greed, a film that progresses from an outrageous comedy to one of the darkest portrayals of the dangers of capitalism put on screen in over a decade, and one of the most potent satires produced during the recent period where the nature of wealth and the influence that the top one-percent hold have become fascinating, but highly-contentious, topics that extend beyond the realm of the economic and bleed into every aspect of our lives. One of the most singularly harrowing films focused around the idea of a free market and the minuscule percentage of people who own the majority of the world’s wealth produced in quite a while, Greed is one of the year’s most fascinating artistic achievements, a piece of unhinged social commentary that finds the balance between darkly comical satire and bleak urban malaise, delivered by a filmmaker who has often infused his films with unexpected depth, which goes into the construction of one of the most memorable cinematic statements ever conducted into the subject of capitalism. A film that means more than it appears to at the outset, Winterbottom’s fascinating voyage into the lives of the upper-upper class is compelling, hilarious and utterly terrifying, and through masterful direction and a group of exceptional performances, led by the inimitable Steve Coogan giving one of his greatest performances to date, Greed is a slow-burning satire that gradually dismantles the irreverent humour, removing the veneer of charm and exuberance until all that remains is pure, unadulterated outrage, carefully packaged into a bizarre, but oddly brilliant, work of unmitigated, rage-fueled social horror, and an intrepid manifesto that borders dangerously close on inciting some kind of class war, all due to the daring approach to the subject matter taken by all parties involved, who craft something truly unforgettable.

Sir Richard McCreadie (Steve Coogan) is one of Britain’s most established tycoons, having amassed an enormous empire through years of working in high-street fashion, gradually acquiring an immense fortune through less-than-ideal methods that have made him a truly controversial figure, which has resulted in the unfavourable sobriquet of “Greedy McCreadie”, which is certainly not unearned. However, despite his reputation, he’s the kind of person who believes that there is no such thing as bad publicity, and as long as he’s perpetually in the public consciousness, he is perfectly content with being tabloid fodder. His sixtieth birthday is rapidly approaching, and he decides he is going to through an elaborate party at a villa in Mykonos, inviting a bevvy of celebrity friends (who do tend to charge a fee to appear at his party), in the hopes of both overcoming a recent spate of legal trouble based on his financial activity, and to regain dominance over the industry, proving himself to be capable of living a lavish life of luxury without a care in the world. An added benefit is the presence of Nick (David Mitchell), a journalist who has been made McCreadie’s personal biographer, who has been gradually interviewing various figures from the subject’s life, both private and professional, gaining insights into the mind of a man whose ascent to wealth and influence has been anything but honest, with his personal history being defined by disreputable dealings and corruption, which are contrasted with his larger-than-life personality. Over the course of the week leading up to the party, McCreadie and his various cohorts scramble to get everything ready, while reflecting on the situations that brought them there, normally through Nick’s persistent attempts to look beneath the surface and find out who the real Sir Richard McCreadie actually is but soon learns that such secrets are better kept closely-guarded, as the truth is not always particularly easy to handle, especially when it becomes clear that McCreadie represents something much darker and more sinister than simple capitalism, and is one of many people who harbour an insidious approach to the world around them.

Context is imperative for understanding the mastery behind Greed – its made by Michael Winterbottom, a filmmaker whose status has only failed to reach the apex of many of his more well-known contemporaries because of his versatility behind the camera, and the wide berth of subjects he’s covered throughout his decades-long career, and the numerous genres he’s dipped into over the years. However, some of his most potent work takes the form of satires, each one of them perfectly-calibrated to represent the particular faction of society that forms the basis of the film – and Greed effortlessly joins the ranks of the likes of 24 Hour Party People (which looked at alternative music during a watershed cultural moment) and A Cock and Bull Story (one of the most intelligent comedies of the past two decades) in satirizing an industry we are all aware of but don’t always understand fully. Certainly not anything close to an authentic representation of the subject, Greed doesn’t purport to be a deep-dive into the industry, but rather a speculative dark comedy along the same lines as the many outrageous satires that infuse a kernel of truth into an outlandish series of events, finding the balance, both narratively and tonally. It establishes itself early on as a film that will take a very subversive approach to a story that did naturally lend itself to comedy, while still being complex enough to not have to depend on broad comedy to transmit its meaning. It has a heft to it that isn’t always expected, particularly when the audience is led to believe they’re just watching a bold comedy about despicable people – absolutely none of us could predict the deranged territory this film would soon be treading through with furious enthusiasm, and its in this very subversion of both the genre’s conventions and the audience’s expectations that allows this film to be so truly captivating.

Throughout both their careers, Michael Winterbottom and Steve Coogan have been inextricably linked over the years, collaborating on several projects, with Coogan normally being a firm constituent in the director’s sporadic forays into comedy. Greed presents them with another collaboration and proves how they bring out the best in each other. The character of Sir Richard McCreadie is a challenging one – he needs to be an eccentric and interesting character, enough to draw us in and keep us captivated, but still be despicable enough for the audience to never truly connect with him. Coogan does exceptionally in handling the many nuances and neuroses necessary to bring the character to life, finding the common ground between a lovable buffoon blinded by his wealth, and an abhorrent individual who is morally bankrupt to the point of complete, unrelenting insidiousness. The actor has played these kinds of unlikable people before, but Greed elevates him to another level entirely – the usual comic qualities that we’ve come to expect from Coogan are missing from this character, and even the most outrageous moments of humour have a sense of portending evil. McCreadie is a despicable character from beginning to end, and his unceremonial demise, while entirely unexpected, is not nearly as downbeat a moment as most would find with even the most awful of characters. There aren’t many films that find a way to present their lead character with such contempt, so kudos must be given to all involved for managing to craft a film that puts an abominable figure in the leading role, and never attempt to humanize him or his actions, but rather allow him to face the consequences.

This is incredible work from Coogan, who puts aside the outrageous humour and contends with something far deeper, which is not unknown for him since he’s found his way through a variety of fantastic projects that gave him more serious material to work with, but none of them challenged him in the way Greed did – there’s absolutely no denying that Coogan gives one of the year’s most impressive performances, with the balance between sheer grandiosity and subtle odiousness being a sight to behold, lingering on the mind of the viewer more than anything else in this film. However, Coogan isn’t the only impressive aspect of the film – he’s contrasted wonderfully by an ensemble cast who find their way through the film, many of which give exceptionally funny, and occasionally quite unsettling, performances as characters on both sides of the class divide. David Mitchell, like Coogan, sets aside his more traditional, boisterous comedic talents and delivers a performance that is still very funny but has a lot more depth than a lot of his more well-known work has shown. Isla Fisher and Shirley Henderson (another of the director’s more notable regular collaborators) are scene-stealers as the protagonist’s ex-wife and mother respectively, and Dinita Gohil slowly takes over the film as its tragic heroine, a woman doomed to a life of despair, the result of being on the wrong side of the greed and corruption that slowly dominates the world. There’s also an impressive roster of celebrities that momentarily lend themselves to brief cameo performance (mostly in the form of recorded messages, almost as if this film was predicting the current situation), which creates a truly memorable ensemble that all play their part in establishing Greed as one of the most potent satires of recent years.

Winterbottom, as anyone who has seen some of his work will undoubtedly attest, is a masterful storyteller and is able to blend humour and pathos into his work, finding the right balance, setting the audience at ease with his well-meaning comedy, and then striking when we least expect it, which creates an exceptionally unique experience and conveys deeper messages than had it taken a more predictable route. This works exceptionally well for a film like Greed, in which the absurdity of the story is countered with a very bleak, visceral approach to real-world matters, almost bordering on completely eviscerating the concept of morality as it weaves a tale of greed and corruption that single-handedly manages to be one of the most unsettling pieces of anti-capitalist fiction in quite a while. Deliriously funny, but carrying bleak undertones that persist throughout, the film gradually descends into chaos, particularly in the third act, where the excess reaches a grotesque peak, and climaxes in an unexpectedly violent manner, and leads to a sobering set of moments in which we realize the true might of this film. Greed is not a film that plays by the rules – it only makes sense for a film built around utterly despicable characters who have gained their status through illicit means. Therefore, it seems poignant that the audience would be left without much hope after the harrowing ending (has ABBA ever sounded so terrifying?), because Greed isn’t interested in comfort – its a haunting social horror masquerading as a boisterous comedy, and once the audience realizes this, it’s too late to turn back – we’ve become ingrained in this nightmarish vision of the world, drawn in by the deceptive charms and presented with some truly disconcerting themes that make us question everything around us.

The fact that Greed is also outrageously funny on top of its very serious socio-cultural commentary only proves this to be the anti-establishment satire we’ve been waiting years to receive, and it certainly did not disappoint, even if it could’ve easily gone further in exploring the darker side of the industry that it builds itself on, and while it is sufficiently alarming, there was still space to provide even more of its deranged vision. Its an anomaly of a film, an upbeat comedy with an acidic edge, brought to life by one of the most versatile filmmakers working today, interpreted by a large cast of exceptional performers who go to immense lengths to give nuance to a film that was clearly impossible to saddle entirely, surrendering themselves to its bizarre charms while still finding the depth in archetypes. Greed is bound to be a divisive film – it is certainly not subtle, and the final act is one moment of overwrought moralizing after another, but it doesn’t feel out of place. Its a film built less out of curiosity to tell a story, and more from the rage and despair evoked by seeing the world become indelibly damaged by self-indulgent people who own the most and do the least. It puts everything at the fundamentally human level, and from this very basic view of the trouble with modern life, Winterbottom and his motley crew of collaborators are able to put together one of the year’s most fascinating films. It’s a daring capitalist odyssey that takes many risks, and while they might not always pay off, its difficult to not admire the sheer courage and immense precision that went into the making of a truly unforgettable work of social commentary.

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