The Matador Review
by samseescinema (sammeriam AT comcast DOT net)December 7th, 2005
The Matador
reviewed by Sam Osborn of www.samseescinema.com
rating: 3 out of 4
Director: Richard Shepard
Cast: Pierce Brosnan, Hope Davise, Greg Kinnear
Screenplay: Richard Shepard
MPAA Classification: R (language, some violence, and sexual content)
The tagline for The Matador reads, "A hitman and salesman walk into a bar..." Essentially, this little tidbit, this little snatchet of a dark, clever joke is the epitome of The Matador. It's the joke that follows this simple tagline. The joke you've heard while sitting around bored on a car-trip, or while waiting in line for a movie ticket; or as the assassin Julian Noble (Pierce Brosnan) tells Danny Wright (Greg Kinnear), it's just "the best cocktail story you'll ever tell." But The Matador tells this joke and succeeds in extending its telling through a 100 minute running length. The joke's characters are brought convincingly to reality, and its story is told with a dark, clever little pumping heart.
The aforementioned bar is set in Mexico. Danny Wright (Kinnear) has flown in from his suburban life in Denver to make a long-awaited business deal. He's hit dead ends with unemployment and failed business endeavors for a couple years now, and secretly believes his wife, Bean (Hope Davis) will leave him if he doesn't seal this one tight. At the same bar is Julian Noble (Brosnan), a lonely, drunk and womanizing hitman whose outward aversion to friendship is constantly betrayed by his severe loneliness. When Danny strikes up friendly bar conversation with the line, "The margaritas are the best in Mexico," Julian replies saying, "Yes, margaritas and cock." But Julian soon realizes his mistake and corrects his rudeness, only to later soil Danny's heartfelt story of a family loss with a misaimed dirty joke, ending their bar conversation for good. But, alas, Julian won't give up on this fledgling chance at friendship and, the next day, invites Danny to a bullfight. The two shoot the breeze at first, tossing about light jokes and cheers for the matadors, until Danny pops the awkward question of, "So, what do you do for a living?" Julian avoids a straight reply, but Danny of course eggs him on and eventually the cat's out of the bag.
The Matador works in the sense that it doesn't rely on plot for fuel. Recent dark comedies--The Ice Harvest, for example--placed too much emphasis on the crossing, double crossing, and even triple crossing of the characters. The Matador doesn't bother itself with such nonsense. Danny and Julian are simply two men of polar opposite lifestyles having a swell time in Mexico. Sure, there's a subplot with Julian's evil employer getting steamed over a missed hit, but at the heart of The Matador is the wickedly delightful buddy comedy between Julian and Danny. Director/Writer Richard Shepard knows we care more for the characters than the plot and made the decision to put their interaction at the film's base, instead of muddying it with unnecessary plot contrivances.
It had to be a welcome opportunity for Pierce Brosnan to find a role that finally let him turn his James Bond identity completely on its end. Where James Bond strolled about in a suave tuxedo and a gaggle of supermodels bubbling about his heels, Julian Noble strides from his hotel room in a neon Speedo and a hangover from the night before. Brosnan looks to be having fun with this role and achieves the essential goal of causing us to have fun along with him. His performance is the film's selling point, with his audacious tackiness running indelibly contrary to his vicious promiscuity and serial inebriation. His loneliness humanizes him, but his newfound friendship with Danny could just be the end of the salesman's innocence. Richard Shepard takes all this on with smooth directorial coolness and carefully measures out meticulous doses of solemnity to balance out The Matador's wicked humor. Because sometimes, between their conversational escapades, Danny and Julian finally get to talking about the stuff of real gravity. It's no philosophic discourse, but Shepard lets us believe his characters are human, at times even reminding us of Patrice Leconte's 2002 film Man on the Train, which explored the profundity of a similar situation. But then Julian will say something like, "I look like a Bangkok hooker on a Sunday morning after the Navy's left town," and the profundity is gone.
-reviewed by Sam Osborn of www.samseescinema.com
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