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Easy Rider, Raging Limey

By Drew Morton | Posted Under Underappreciated Gems | Comments (15)



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Those of you still pondering Dustin’s posts on the Schreiber Theory (screenwriters are the authors of the film, not directors, as the auteur theory posits) would do yourselves a great service in watching Steven Soderbergh’s The Limey (1999) and listening to the filmmaker’s infamous commentary track with screenwriter Lem Dobbs (Kafka, Dark City). Dobbs, a crotchety screenwriter if there ever was one, takes Soderbergh to task for taking his character-driven noir and turning it into an exercise in stylistically driven minimalism. The screenwriter quips, and I strongly recommend Scott Tobias’s breakdown of the commentary for anyone interested in the Cliff Notes version, “People ask me, ‘Do you like this movie?’ And as a disinterested, objective filmgoer who had nothing to do with it, I’d say it’s a good movie. I’d recommend it to my friends. But as a screenwriter, I think it’s crippled.” The message of the overall commentary, at least in my opinion, is that film production is a system of checks and balances. In this case, Dobbs provided Soderbergh with a well-written but typical revenge flick that the director turned into something unique.

On that note, let’s start with the typical. The Limey tells the story of an aging British hood named Wilson (Terence Stamp) who has recently been released from prison for armed robbery. Upon his release, Wilson ventures to Los Angeles to investigate the death of his daughter Jenny (Melissa George), suspecting foul play in the form of her ex-boyfriend, wealthy record producer Terry Valentine (Peter Fonda). Thanks to the assistance of two of Jenny’s acquaintances (Luis Guzmán and Leslie Ann Warren), Wilson plots his revenge on Terry, who is well protected by his chief of security (Barry Newman) and a pair of hit men (Joe Dallesandro and Nicky Katt). C’est tout; for a revenge/mystery flick, The Limey is cut and dry.

That is not, of course, a criticism of the film. The minimalism of the plot provides Soderbergh with the opportunity to experiment with certain stylistic devices that add characterization without much use of the spoken word, not an easy feat. First, Soderbergh relies on our knowledge of other Stamp/Fonda/Newman films to elaborate on the characters. Via his mobilization of intertextuality, linking Stamp to Ken Loach’s Poor Cow (1967) Soderbergh forces us to associate Wilson of The Limey with his thieving character in Loach’s film, filling in the characterization for the filmmaker. Similarly, Newman is associated with Vanishing Point (1971) and Fonda is linked to Easy Rider (1969), the latter chiefly through monologues about motorcycles and the 1960s. As Valentine notes, “Did you ever dream about a place you never really recall being to before? A place that maybe only exists in your imagination? Some place far away, half remembered when you wake up. When you were there, though, you knew the language. You knew your way around. That was the sixties.” Valentine’s read of the 1960s is how this film feels to the viewer: somewhat familiar thanks to plot and the narrative shorthand, but still unique enough to stand on its own.

The second tool Soderbergh mobilizes in order to force us into an active headspace, connecting the dots for him in an economic fashion, is subjective editing. We are thrust into Wilson’s state of mind thanks to non-linear editing as dialogues begin in restaurants and continue on oceanside piers without so much as an establishing shot or temporal break in the content of the discussion and potential realities play out through Wilson’s head (shooting Valentine at his house or just staring him down for instance). In doing so, Soderbergh evokes our empathy for Wilson and his mission without the use of dialogue or stacking the deck against the film’s villain, who is more weak than evil. Essentially, the characters are fleshed out cinematically rather than literarily.

This could (and probably did) rub some viewers the wrong way. The subjective editing and intertextual relationships Soderbergh draws upon give us ideas about these characters, not concrete facts. Moreover, almost every generic characteristic of the thriller/mystery is dialed back. Action sequences are either not disclosed to us directly (as when Wilson enters a warehouse to gain information on Valentine but we and the camera are left outside) or de-emphasized (the encounter where Wilson throws a thug to his death, relayed in a long shot). Yet, this posturing of the majority of the film’s “action sequences” does have several payoffs. First, a chase sequence mid-film becomes a surprise. Secondly, despite an anti-climactic climax from a generic point of view, we are provided with enriched character arcs that might not have otherwise existed. Soderbergh has altered the form, not the essence of the neo-noir.

Whether or not you agree with Dobbs’s sentiment that Soderbergh ruined his movie depends on why you’re watching The Limey. If you’re looking for a by-the-numbers thriller with all the payoffs of the genre (a dramatic reveal, some fisticuffs), then you’ll think the film is a failure. If you’re watching the film because you’re well-versed in the characteristics of the genre and you want a refreshing experience, you’ll be pleasantly surprised. While it may not rise to the level of his previous film, Out of Sight (1998, which has already unfortunately been reviewed for the site), with regard to balancing form and content, The Limey is a taut, rewarding, piece of film.

Drew Morton is a Ph.D. student in Cinema and Media Studies at the University of California-Los Angeles. His criticism and articles have previously appeared in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, the UWM Post, Flow, Senses of Cinema, and Mediascape. He is the 2008 and 2010 recipient of the Otis Ferguson Award for Critical Writing in Film Studies.









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Comments

Great review. I've been actually anticipating a Limey review ever since I bought it.

Posted by: Theseus at July 19, 2010 2:04 PM

RIGHT. ON.
Not enough people respect this film.

Posted by: badalamenti at July 19, 2010 2:18 PM

Thanks! That was a nice treat.

Posted by: Jay at July 19, 2010 2:25 PM

Nice; I actually wish you'd written a longer piece. I love The Limey. And as to your last sentence, Out of Sight is good, but I'll take The Limey over it any day.

Posted by: Bistro at July 19, 2010 2:34 PM

"Out of Sight" was one of the films that drove me to film as a career choice. Such a great movie... Funny, sexy, and smart as hell.

Posted by: Drew Morton at July 19, 2010 2:41 PM

Drew, thanks for spotlighting this. On most days I'd classify this as my favorite Soderbergh flick.

For me that subjective editing is brilliant. This is one of those rare movies where when I think about it the first thing that comes to mind is the tone and ambiance, as opposed to simply the straightforward retelling of what the plot gives us. When film works outside the bounds of conventional storytelling and literalism, it comes closer to the standard defintion of "art," and that is what makes the story at the heart of The Limey even more resonant.

The commentary track is noteworthy. Dobbs has a legitimate beef, as it's not what he wrote. The ancillary stories that he did not want to see excised had a place in the story he wrote, but in the presentation Soderbergh chose there probably just wasn't enough room.

Posted by: DarthCorleone at July 19, 2010 2:56 PM

Twas a good film. I'm generally not a Soderbergh fan, but this one worked for me. Stamp is, of course, bloody brilliant.

Posted by: EJ at July 19, 2010 3:09 PM

Nice review, Drew. I haven't seen it but it is now added to the queue. That damn thing is getting big.

Posted by: admin at July 19, 2010 3:48 PM

A great little movie. The warehouse scene is one of my favorites...nicely upending the usual taking-on-the-bad-guys-all-at-once scene by the character's needing two attempts at it.

"Tell 'im I'm fucking coming!"

Posted by: Jacktrade at July 19, 2010 4:53 PM

oh, this was such a great movie. Terence Stamp is amazing.

Posted by: southwer at July 19, 2010 7:06 PM

Too bad that American audiences haven't seen more of Stamp over the years. I've seen The Limey a couple of times, but I wouldn't turn down another viewing. A great film. Nice review, I learned something.

Posted by: mechadave at July 19, 2010 8:33 PM

A brilliant flick, one of my favorites -- and one none of your friends has ever seen. Stamp's mostly-wordless screen time is remarkably expressive, and when he does talk, well, it's music.

The scene where Stamp employs some Cockney rhyming slang to befuddle a glowering Bill Duke leaves me grinning madly at the screen.

The editing is brilliant, and Soderbergh's use of the footage of a young Stamp from Poor Cow to provide the Limey's backstory is seamless; it just fits.

Oddly, I've never bothered listening to the commentary track, something I clearly must remedy.

Did I mention I love this flick?

Posted by: Mike Lief at July 20, 2010 1:33 AM

I use that Bill Duke quote frequently.

"There's one thing I don't understand..."

Posted by: DarthCorleone at July 20, 2010 4:30 AM

"My name's Wilson."

Posted by: Protoguy at July 20, 2010 4:35 AM

I flat out love The Limey. The editing is brilliant and the use of footage from Poor Cow to provide backstory for Wilson was a stroke of genius. People do not give it the respect it deserves or its star Terence Stamp.

I was screaming from the rooftops for friends, family and anyone who would listen to see this film.

Wilson (Terence Stamp): How you doin' then? All right, are you? Now look, squire, you're the guv'nor here, I can see that. I'm in your manor now. So there's no need to get your knickers in a twist. Whatever this bollocks is that's going down between you and that slag Valentine, it's got nothing to do with me. I couldn't care less. Alright, mate? Let me explain. When I was in prison - second time - uh, no, telling a lie, third stretch, yeah, third, third - there was this screw what really had it in for me, and that geezer was top of my list. Two years after I got sprung, I sees him in Arnold Park. He's sittin' on a bench feedin' bloody pigeons. There was no-one about, I could've gone up behind him and snapped his fuckin' neck, *wallop!* But I left it. I could've knobbled him, but I didn't. 'Cause what I thought I wanted wasn't what I wanted. What I thought I was thinkin' about was something else. I didn't give a toss. It didn't matter, see? This berk on the bench wasn't worth my time. It meant sod-all in the end, 'cause you gotta make a choice: when to do something, and when to let it go. When it matters, and when it don't. Bide your time. That's what prison teaches you, if nothing else. Bide your time, and everything becomes clear, and you can act accordingly.

Head DEA Agent (Bill Dukes): There's one thing I don't understand. The thing I don't understand is every motherfuckin' word you're saying.

--

I simply love this film.

Posted by: allheavens at July 26, 2010 3:02 PM