The Limey (1999)
Directed by Steven Soderbergh
Written by Lem Dobbs

The Limey isn't a very good movie, but it's a pretty cool movie, and moreover, I'm such a fan of Steven Soderbergh's work ethic that I end up admiring it almost for its sheer existence. Quietly cranked out in between Out of Sight and Erin Brockovich, this one is a small, kinda experimental little psychological thrillmeister that gets by on what it knows more than how well it works.

Terence Stamp owns the movie start to finish, and he's such a cool presence that you excuse some of the lamer dialogue (Soderbergh's fascination with Cockney rhyming slang, which also marred Ocean's Eleven, hijacks the screenplay outright and slashes its throat). The film cleverly inserts footage from the 1967 British film Poor Cow, which starred a much younger Stamp, for a series of flashback sequences. It's a gimmick, but it's a good goddamn gimmick.

The plot concerns Stamp traveling to L.A. to avenge his daughter's killing at the hands of Peter Fonda, playing a rather nuanced semi-shady music biz type. It reminded me of Hardcore with George C. Scott, a film that, for some reason, I think about quite a bit more than it deserves to be thought about.

The cinematography is beautiful, showcasing some amazing oceanfront houses in Malibu and Big Sur, but the editing is choppy and not altogether successful, though you can't blame Soderbergh for trying some different things. It all comes off like an exercise that somehow ended up seeming bigger than it was ever intended to be. But as it almost succeeds at being a big, badass movie, it's more frustrating than if it had simply failed.

Nice to see Joe Dallesandro around for a cameo, and even the now-ubiquitous Luis Guzmán doesn't pack the usual instant laugh upon showing up. Ultimately, this is a love letter to late-60s indie cinema, and as that, it's well worth a look. Just try to avoid getting your hopes up for the truly kick-ass Terence Stamp movie you wish existed, 'cause it doesn't.

Review by Willis Jackson