Lord Doyle (Colin Farrell) is a “gwai lo,” the Cantonese slang term for white foreigners that literally means “ghost man.” It’s a term that he’s embraced since he’s taken refuge in Macau, the gambling capital of the universe, and the perfect place to hide from his past mistakes. “Here, I barely exist,” Doyle says, “I’m invisible.”
The Ballad Of A Small Player, Edward Berger’s flashy, frenetic follow-up to last year’s acclaimed papal drama Conclave, seems like the opposite of that Oscar-nominated film in every way. It’s hyper-stylized and sleazy and sordid, with Farrell’s go-for-broke performance embodying a movie that feels like its tenuous grip on reality could break at any moment and send it hurling into the ether. It’s a movie built on excesses — both visual and narrative — to match the decadent lifestyle that Doyle lives as a high-rolling gambler. But as Ballad Of A Small Player takes a surprising supernatural turn in its latter half, its brushes with spirituality make it a surprisingly fitting companion piece with Conclave, as well as a mildly entertaining watch that deserves better than being forgotten during awards season and heading to Netflix after only one week in the theaters.
