Following the intense and visceral rawness of All Quiet on the Western Front and the meticulous religious intrigue of Conclave — both of which are among my absolute favorites from their respective release years — the mere idea of Edward Berger tackling a psychological thriller focused on addiction and moral decay held an irresistible appeal. With Colin Farrell (The Banshees of Inisherin) in the leading role, I went into Ballad of a Small Player with some of the highest expectations of the festival.
Based on the novel of the same name by Lawrence Osborne and with the screenplay penned by Rowan Joffé (28 Weeks Later), Ballad of a Small Player takes us to Macau, the colossal gambling hub in China, where we find Lord Doyle (Farrell). On the run for nebulous reasons, he tries to maintain a ‘high-roller’ facade while sinking into debt and a spiral of alcohol and gambling. His existence is simultaneously threatened and confronted. On one side, we have an eccentric private investigator sent to confront him with his past and his debts. On the other hand, there’s Dao Ming (Fala Chen), a casino employee who offers Doyle a potential — and dangerous — path to salvation and a human connection.
The movie first imposes itself through its technical prowess, and the ambition of Berger and his long-time collaborators is palpable — on a level that will earn recognition during the upcoming awards season. James Friend‘s cinematography is one of the strongest points of Ballad of a Small Player. Macau is captured as a character-city: an architectural monster of vibrant colors and frightening grandeur. Friend doesn’t merely film the opulence; he uses light in an almost expressionistic manner. The wide shots of the Macau night skyline, engulfed by neon lights, fireworks, disco lights, and even water’s reflections, are of a stunning and truly immersive formal beauty. The production design is enormous, with every frame of the city screaming out-of-control capitalism and excess, capturing the toxic allure of addiction.
Coupled with the visuals, Volker Bertelmann‘s score is the pulsating engine that sets the pacing for the entire movie. It’s a relentlessly powerful composition — so strong and constant that it won’t be surprising if some viewers find it too overwhelming. Personally, I found it to fit the film’s purpose like a glove and help create a complete representation of the protagonist. Lord Doyle is an impostor trying to belong to a class much superior to his own. The music is loud, energetic, and intentionally over-the-top, much like the persona Doyle tries to sell the world. Ballad of a Small Player rarely goes without this technical element pushing it forward, establishing a rhythm of anxiety and euphoria which, connecting once again to the main theme of the story, is the core of addiction.
The environment of Macau isn’t merely an extravagant backdrop; it’s the very mirror of Doyle’s soul. The city, a cultural melting pot, takes on an almost mystical dimension. Berger films this location as a purgatory, where the illusion of wealth clashes with profound solitude. At a certain point in the narrative, Dao Ming tells a story about the ‘gwailou’ or ‘ghost man’ that gains a double resonance: Doyle is a ghost of his past, trying to haunt a new life that doesn’t belong to him. This cultural layer, where tradition intersects with hyper-consumerism, suggests that beyond his financial debts, Doyle is dealing with an existential and moral debt, rushing towards a redemption that requires more than just luck at the cards.
It may all be visually and sonically excessive, but it’s Farrell‘s performance that grounds it and, frankly, carries Ballad of a Small Player on its back. Other performances, like those from Tilda Swinton and Chen, are solid, but the spotlight is entirely on Farrell — a ‘one-man show’ that demonstrates the actor’s versatile talent for the umpteenth time. His Doyle is an intense, emotional, and comedic figure in his desperate arrogance. Farrell is magnetic in portraying a man on the brink of the abyss, an elegant liar struggling between decadence and the urgency of redemption. His physicality — the sweat, the anxiety, the incessant need to fill the void with addiction — is deeply convincing and prevents the movie from becoming merely a style exercise.
Despite Farrell‘s individual prowess, the main issue in Ballad of a Small Player lies in his relationship with Chen‘s character. The romantic connection with Dao Ming is a vital point in the narrative, as it’s Doyle’s only glimpse of salvation and genuine human connection. However, this bond receives insufficient screentime for the weight it ultimately carries. The gambling sequences, though repetitive in the first half, serve to solidify Doyle’s habitat and, as the end approaches, become increasingly tense and mark the moments of greatest pure entertainment in the film. Nevertheless, it suffers from a lack of a better balance to help the audience emotionally invest in his relationship with Dao Ming. Redemption cannot happen without this dynamic, but it isn’t cemented with the time and depth necessary to justify its crucial dramatic role.
Fortunately, Ballad of a Small Player redeems itself in its brilliant third act. It’s a conclusion that offers an impactful closure to all narrative threads in a thematically rich way. The approach to addiction is what makes it so interesting and remarkably accurate. Addiction is rarely a singular problem. Doyle sinks into gambling, but with it, other minor vices emerge — alcohol, cigarettes, food, the need for social performance. Doyle’s arc and his search for inner peace imply that, to break free from the ‘Big Addiction’, the character must first start by smashing the small ones that surround him. By doing so, his spiral of self-destruction reverses, finally allowing him to face the major cause. This exploration of the psychology of addiction is the thematic heart that Berger and Joffé nail perfectly.
A note for a post-credits scene that’s worth waiting for.
Final Thoughts on Ballad of a Small Player
Ballad of a Small Player is a sensorial experience elevated by all the artists involved. It’s a story about a man trying to find himself amidst a culture marked by out-of-control capitalism and greed manifested through audiovisual intoxication. Despite a slightly unbalanced first act and a central relationship that deserved more screentime, the film is a triumph of form, technique, and, above all, the magnetic performance of Colin Farrell. It’s his misery and his desperate search for authenticity that grip us, culminating in a powerful, satisfying conclusion. It deserves to be seen on the big screen for its scale and ambition. When all the cards are on the table, the real bet is never on luck, but on the courage to be real.
Rating: A-
Ballad of a Small Player is now playing in theaters.
Learn more about the film, including how to watch on Netflix
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