The Limey

Directed by Steven Soderbergh, The Limey follows Terence Stamp’s Wilson as he arrives in Los Angeles looking for information relating to the death of his daughter – with the narrative detailing Wilson’s ensuing investigation and eventual pursuit of a sleazy record producer (Peter Fonda’s Terry Valentine). It’s a fairly straightforward, familiar premise that’s employed to off-kilter and consistently avant-garde effect by Soderbergh, as the filmmaker, working from Lem Dobbs’ script, delivers an impressionistic thriller that rarely unfolds as one might’ve anticipated – with the this vibe certainly echoed in Cliff Martinez’s haunting score and Sarah Flack’s engrossing, non-linear editing. There’s little doubt, however, that The Limey‘s success is due almost entirely to Stamp’s captivating and frequently mesmerizing turn as the vengeance-minded central character, as the actor dominates the proceedings to an extent that remains palpable from start to finish. (Stamp’s comfort with Dobbs’ relentless cockney lingo is a highlight, to be sure, and it’s impossible not to get a kick out of the unapologetically badass sequence in which Wilson takes out several goons within a warehouse.) And although the movie does, even at 89 minutes, possess a small handful of lulls, The Limey builds to a tremendously satisfying climactic stretch that even manages to pack an unexpected emotional punch – with the end result a stirring endeavor that remains a high-water-mark in Soderbergh’s admittedly spotty body of work.

***1/2 out of ****

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