There’s a particular kind of magic in watching a director at the peak of their powers pivot sharply. Edward Berger—coming off the brutal poetry of All Quiet on the Western Front and the Vatican’s shadow games in Conclave—has now plunged headfirst into the neon-saturated, sweat-stained chaos of Macau. His latest, Ballad of a Small Player, just dropped its first teaser, and… damn. Thirty seconds never felt so suffocating. Or so alive.
Colin Farrell’s Lord Doyle isn’t just down on his luck. He’s submerged. The teaser opens on him, hollow-eyed and trembling, muttering, “I may be out of puff, but I still have my balls.” The reply—cutting through the haze like a razor—“Yeah, right. Not for long,” lands like a gut punch. This isn’t a man on the edge. He’s already fallen. And Macau’s glittering casinos are the sharks circling below.
What grabs you instantly is the texture. James Friend’s cinematography (reuniting with Berger after All Quiet) turns Macau into a fever dream. Every frame drips with humidity, desperation, and that peculiar, electric despair only high-stakes gambling can conjure. It’s gorgeous. Grating. Gorgeous again. You can almost smell the stale cigarette smoke and spilled whiskey. Was this shot during a heatwave? Everyone’s sweating. It feels… lived-in. Uncomfortably real.
Farrell? He’s not acting. He’s exorcising. The wild eyes, the tremor in his hands as he pushes another chip onto the felt, the way he flinches at sudden sounds—this is a performance etched in raw nerve. And when Tilda Swinton’s Cynthia Blithe materializes, cool and implacable as a private investigator hunting him? The air crackles. Their brief confrontation in the teaser whispers of shared history, of debts far beyond money. Swinton doesn’t just walk into a scene. She occupies it.
The source material, Lawrence Osborne’s novel, is described as “a vivid and feverish portrait of a soul in self-inflicted purgatorio.” Berger seems hell-bent on translating that fever to the screen. There’s a Catholic weight here, a sense of sin and consequence that threaded through Conclave and now finds a grittier expression in Macau’s liminal spaces. Rowan Joffe (28 Weeks Later, The American) adapts, and if the teaser’s tension is any guide, he’s captured Osborne’s unsettling blend of glamour and rot.
The festival rollout tells its own story. Netflix is positioning this as prestige: likely premiering at Telluride 2025 before its official bow at TIFF, then a brief theatrical run starting October 15, 2025, ahead of its streaming debut on October 29, 2025. Smart. This isn’t just content; it’s cinema. The big screen demands the scale of Friend’s visuals and the claustrophobia of Berger’s framing.
What fascinates me is Berger’s trajectory. From the intimate character studies of his early work (Deutschland 83, Patrick Melrose) to the historical sweep of All Quiet, the institutional dread of Conclave, and now this—a genre-bending thriller set in Asia’s gambling heartland. He’s fearless. Refuses to be pinned down. Yet through it all runs a fascination with morality, consequence, and the fragile, often destructive, ways humans connect.
The gambling genre has given us icons—The Sting, Casino, Croupier. But Berger feels like he’s aiming for something different here. Less about the con, more about the condition. The psychology of a man gambling not to win, but to feel something. Anything. The teaser suggests a film that’s part character study, part existential dread, with a heavy dose of neo-noir atmosphere. It’s a potent, unsettling cocktail.
And that poster? A close-up of Farrell, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, bathed in sickly neon green. It’s an invitation and a warning. There’s a universe of bad decisions in that gaze. It’s marketing that trusts its audience. Doesn’t spoon-feed. Just… shows.
As someone who’s tracked Berger since his German TV days, this feels like a culmination. The confidence of All Quiet’s craft, the thematic depth of Conclave, now fused with the raw, pulpy energy of a genre piece. Can he balance it? The teaser screams yes. But teasers lie. Or at least, they seduce. Still. There’s an honesty here. A raw nerve exposed.
Maybe that’s the point. Or maybe not. I’m not sure anymore. But I’m hooked.
What You Should Know About Ballad of a Small Player
Festival Strategy The film follows a classic awards-season path: likely premiering at Telluride 2025 before its official spotlight at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) the same fall.
Release Cadence Netflix grants it a brief theatrical run starting October 15, 2025, acknowledging its cinematic scope, before hitting streaming on October 29, 2025.
Creative Core Reunites Berger with Oscar-winning collaborators: cinematographer James Friend (All Quiet on the Western Front) and composer Volker Bertelmann.
Literary DNA Based on Lawrence Osborne’s acclaimed novel, adapted by Rowan Joffe (The American), promising a tale of “self-inflicted purgatorio” in Macau’s underworld.
Powerhouse Ensemble Colin Farrell anchors as the desperate Lord Doyle, with Tilda Swinton as his relentless pursuer, Fala Chen as the enigmatic Dao Ming, and veteran Deanie Ip in a key role.
Visual Signature Early glimpses confirm Berger’s knack for immersive, sensory storytelling—transforming Macau’s casinos into a character that’s both seductive and suffocating.
Does Berger’s pivot from war trenches and Vatican halls to Macau’s gambling dens intrigue you? Does Farrell’s raw, weathered performance in the teaser promise something special? Or are you holding judgment until the full trailer lands? Sound off below—and keep your eyes peeled. This one’s going to be a ride.
