Ghosts tend to follow us around. Whether we take such a sentiment as a literal description of the supernatural, or simply view it as a metaphorical idea about the inability to escape the past depends on each person, but it’s a relatively universal idea at its core. This is something that Lawrence Osborne explored in his novel Ballad of a Small Player, which follows a down-on-his-luck nobleman named Lord Doyle who has taken up residence in one of the many luxurious hotels overlooking Macau, the gambling capital of the world, where he spends his days gambling in the hopes of increasing his fortune. The problem is that he isn’t who he claims to be, and his presence here is less a matter of engaging in some excessive pleasures but rather a desperate attempt to escape from his storied past, which is on the verge of being revealed once an eccentric detective crosses his path. A fascinating story that has a lot of potential, it has now been adapted into a film, written by Rowan Joffé and helmed by Edward Berger, who continues to establish himself as one of the most reliable filmmakers working today, someone who may not have a clearly-defined vision yet, but who is capable of creating consistently entertaining, enthralling thrillers that appeal to a wide range of viewers. This is something that we find informs this adaptation, which is a sleek and engrossing follow-up to his remarkably compelling Conclave that officially consolidated him as a director whose vision is certainly worth watching – and while it doesn’t quite reach those heights (and will likely be considered a minor work for several reasons which will be outlined shortly), we do find that Ballad of a Small Player is still a very strong effort, handcrafted by a director who may not have a distinct vision just yet, but whose consistency and wholehearted dedication to unearthing the many intriguing topics evoked throughout this story is worth our time at the very least, especially when we find that there are some enticing elements lingering just beneath the surface, patiently waiting to interweave with some of the more beguiling qualities of this film.

Ballad of a Small Player is a film with very simple ideas, and the wisdom to know that the best way to deliver a certain message is through simply stating its objectives and hoping that the viewer can recognise any additional context that helps bolster these ideas. The core themes that drive this film in particular are those around redemption, which is done through asking a straightforward question: can someone who has stolen so much from countless people ever truly gain forgiveness, particularly when they are more than likely to commit the same acts again? We’ve seen many stories about addiction and how it is not particularly easy to recover from it, regardless of the vice – and this film runs the gamut, showing a man who drowns himself in the most expensive substances as a means to exude the appearance of luxury, in the hopes that he will fool those around him from asking too many questions, since it’s only a matter of time before his true origins are revealed. Redemption is a fascinating topic in itself – it’s something that no one craves until it is absolutely necessary, at which point it is impossible to find, which makes the search for it even more challenging. This film does remarkably well in examining quite an abstract idea such as the quest for forgiveness without needing to resort to more than a few of the most familiar techniques, being quite selective while also acknowledging the importance of surprising the viewer, which it does quite frequently. The setting being Macau – a city that is very rarely used as the location for films despite its stunning appearance and vibrant, energetic culture that makes it profoundly cinematic – only adds layers, since we find some fascinating observations on the tug-of-war between eastern and western cultures, which fuel many of the most compelling moments, even if they are not always the focus. It’s not an overly elaborate film, and a lot of its themes are certainly quite obvious, but this doesn’t make them any less compelling, especially in those moments where we would expect the film to veer in one direction, when in reality it chooses to go in another one entirely, which is all part of the experience, and the primary reason Ballad of a Small Player works so well.

Considering the story is relatively simple (some may even say pedestrian, but that’s doing a great disservice to something that has a lot of meaning, it’s just concealed behind the veneer of a mostly straightforward crime drama), the only way that a film like Ballad of a Small Player was going to leave an impression was with the right actor playing the lead. The character of Lord Doyle is a fascinating one – he’s a man whose origins are as ambiguous as his morals, and someone who seems to be shrouded in excess, but yet fails to be able to pay for even the smallest of bills, which creates a series of contradictions on which the entire film is based. Berger finds his star in the form of Colin Farrell, who has only continued to prove himself to be a generational talent, every performance he has delivered in the last fifteen years (if not longer) showcasing his extraordinary skills, as well as his incredible versatility. This part is not entirely out of his wheelhouse, but it does challenge him in very creative ways – he’s essentially playing two characters, namely Lord Doyle, the debonair high roller who lives a life of extraordinary luxury, and Brendan Reilly, a rambunctious upstart and the true identity of the character. The shifts between personas is so subtle, relying on the smallest changes in his accent, gait and overall personality, which is not an easy feat, especially when so much is going on around him. Nevertheless, Farrell is more than willing to rise to the opportunity, taking on the challenge and proving yet again that he is an extraordinary performer and someone capable of taking such a simple premise and making it entirely his own. The film does hinge on Farrell and his ability to carry the story, but the supporting cast also leaves quite an impression. Fala Chen is a star in the making, her hypnotic and beguiling femme fatale being a perfect antidote to Farrell’s eccentric protagonist, while Tilda Swinton brings some gravitas as the veteran in the cast, playing a role that would have been far less impactful had it been handed to someone who viewed her as just a mild nuisance to the protagonist, rather than a rich, complex supporting player in her own right. Ballad of a Small Player is very much formed as a showcase for its lead, but it’s the whole cast that makes it so captivating, with Farrell just being the quality that binds everything together and makes it such a fascinating work.

Unfortunately, there are a few areas in which Ballad of a Small Player is slightly lacking – most of which has to do with the execution. The term “style over substance” is so frequently used, it has lost a lot of meaning, especially since it has led to the belief that they are mutually exclusive, rather than being perfectly capable of existing alongside one another. It’s foolish to suggest that it applies entirely to this film, which is a fascinating work all on its own, but we do find that there are elements that make us yearn for slightly more than what was delivered, a sign that the film is perhaps not quite as adept at delivering what it promises, even though it still has enough to offer once we understand its intentions. It is beautifully made – the cinematography by James Friend is spellbinding, especially in how it captures the grandeur and majesty of Macau, which is portrayed as this exotic oasis of decadence and luxury at some points, and as an immoral, arid landscape that serves as the perfect stage for an existential crisis in others. Berger knows how to pull a film together, which is worth noting, albeit with some hesitance – for every moment in which we are enthralled by the imagery, there are a couple where we wish it would set aside the extravagant aesthetic and focus instead on developing the characters. There’s no reason for Farrell to be the only actor with a character that feels like he has undergone a complete arc, especially when there are some talented performers in the supporting cast that could have very easily been bolstered had the film given them more focus. It’s very clear that Ballad of a Small Player is less about the story and more about the spectacle, and while this is valid (especially since maximalism in cinema is seemingly in danger of becoming extinct as we are ushered into an era where subtlety is seen as more appealing), it may have benefitted from a slightly tighter, more nuanced approach that understand implicitly how to handle some of its more challenging and potentially intriguing ideas, which could have been resolved through a bit more attention to narrative detail and character development, both of which needed to be sharpened to allow the film to reach its full potential.

Ballad of a Small Player is not a particularly elaborate affair as far as thematic material goes, but it compensates for some slightly obvious narrative decisions with some striking visuals and a disquieting sense of controlled chaos that is more than enough to keep the viewer invested, if not outright enthralled. It’s a very compelling film, especially since it is quite clear that it intends to take us on a journey into a world we have likely not experienced – even those who have visited Macau will not entirely recognise the city as seen throughout this film, which is not implying that it is inauthentic or doesn’t capture the spirit of the people and their culture, but rather that it offers insights into a subject that few fully understand. Those expecting a complex, layered exploration of the trials and tribulations of a career gambler are not going to get exactly what they imagine, since the film is far more focused on the psychology of addiction and the obstacles faced by those who find themselves in precarious (and often quite perilous) situations. It’s anchored by a wonderful performance by Farrell, who is delivering a stellar portrayal of a man descending into a state of complete madness as a result of his refusal to simply follow conventions – and while we acknowledge the character is technically quite despicable, we simply cannot help but root for his success, for the simple reason that he represents everything that we desire to be, whether its the devil may care attitude towards his daily affairs, the confidence to take on institutions far bigger than he could ever hope to be, or simply the fearlessness to take a running leap when he isn’t even sure there will be something to catch him on the way down, all of which makes up this vibrant, captivating portrait of a woman so enshrouded in addiction that he cannot determine which paths lead to his recovery, and which ones just take him deeper into this sordid, harrowing world. Well-made, rivetting and always striking, even in the moments where we wish it could have taken more risks, Ballad of a Small Player is a strong film that offers us most of what we’d expect, while also offering insights that deserved slightly more polish to be fully captivating, making the oscillation between ideas and their execution only marginally less effective than they could have been with more attention to detail.