Let's get to the point: The first images from Edward Berger's “The Ballad of a Small Player” promise a Colin Farrell you haven't quite seen—mustache, weariness, Macau's casino afterglow radiating off him. Berger, now two-for-two on Oscar-nominated prestige (you remember “All Quiet on the Western Front,” you might've even tolerated “Conclave”), ditches blood and clergy for baccarat. This is a wager—a tonal pivot from no man's land to neon exile.
Netflix's latest statement piece, adapted by Rowan Joffe from Lawrence Osborne's novel, puts Farrell front and center as Doyle, a high-stakes gambler crashing from his debts. Alongside him: Tilda Swinton (who else), Fala Chen, Deanie Ip, and Alex Jennings. Not a bad hand. The streamer's rolling this one out in select theaters October 15—two weeks only—before the house lights go down and it's yours on Netflix, October 29.
Berger hands the lens this time to James Friend, the same DP who found mud-soaked poetry in “Western Front.” The sense memory is different—swapping shells for casino chips, but the malaise lingers. If you're expecting empty spectacle, look somewhere else; Berger rarely decorates the banal. Macau is a gambler's purgatory—the right backdrop for a director who trades in regret and second chances.
Production began under the radar, as is Berger's way. No endless teaser campaigns, no manufactured hysteria. The cash is in the cast—Swinton, Chen, Ip, Jennings—and in the tactile atmosphere teased by these first images. You want symbolism? Macau is always midnight. You want news? The film is locked for an October premiere.
The points are clear. Berger's moving from Oscar to odds, hoping lightning hits Macau twice. Colin Farrell's haunted everyman is just another soul looking for his shot at redemption. The casinos will take his money, but Berger's here to see if you'll buy his latest hand.
