05 August 2012

Film: Mr. Nice (2010)

Thoughts: Mr. Nice annoyed me a little bit. It was an alright film, and I like Rhys Ifans and David Thewlis and Chloe Sevigny. But what annoyed me was the lack of drive, or reason, or motivation.

The film follows the rise and fall of one Dennis Howard Marks; a well-studied Welshman that ended up becoming the prime supplier of hashish into most of Britain during the 70s and 80s (I think). Now that's all well and good. But we don't really know why. In fact, why don't really know ANYTHING about Mr. Marks (or Mr. Nice, as he assumes by necessity late in the film).

Tony Montana wanted it all. Harry Goldfarb wanted a better life. Michael Corleone wanted to expand and resecure the family business. But Howard Marks? He just kinda, becomes the biggest importer of hashish into Britain. I mean, before the big trades start coming in, he meets future partner Chloe Sevigny's character for the first time and she says "Are you a drug dealer?" to which he replies "No."
"Well you just look like one."
And then suddenly he's a drug dealer. And so on, and so forth. He meets David Thewlis' crazed IRA smuggler, and suddenly he's driving insane amounts of narcotics over the German border into Britain. And through all this, you still don't know fuck all about the man, or his motivations, or how he damn well even fell into this stuff. Oh, you see how he fell into it, yeah. You see the machinations. But it all seems to be based on right place, right time, with no prior commitments or choices or qualms outstanding.

I had a big contradiction to the character lined up a few days ago when I viewed the film, but I've left it too long and forgotten the thoughtline. Oh well.

Basically what I'm getting at it, is that the film annoyed me, because if you don't understand WHY a central fucking character- hell, the goddamn man who's NAME IS THE FUCKING TITLE- is doing what he does, for his whole damn life, and then just gets hit with the consequences, well you tend to ask yourself why you just spent two rather uneventful hours with a complete stranger for no reason other than to be left feeling like you really don't know if what he told you was the truth. And that the guy inspired so little curiosity, that you really couldn't care less if you did find out.

I do like Rhys Ifans though.


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