“…Of all the icy blasts that blow on love, a request for money is the most chilling and havoc-wreaking,” proclaimed Gustave Flaubert more than one-and-a-half century ago. Gail Harris’ (Michelle Williams) situation in All The Money In The World makes it even darker and precarious. She must beg for money to save her kidnapped son, but there is no love, rather an icy hatred between the man with the money and her.
As the kidnapped boy’s plea gets desperate, Gail, moneyless and desperate, comes to beg to her father-in-law, Getty Sr. For the old man, this is not the first time his dear grandson Paul has been held hostage. Gail snatched the custody of her kids in the past in the divorce proceedings, and for the patriarch, this was nothing less than an abduction of his blood.
Ridley Scott’s films continue to possess a heart of darkness, and his latest is no exception. Cranking up timelines, it moves along like a competent thriller, but more and more, we become aware of an impending doom. A tragedy that its characters can’t escape, a black comedy that evokes amusement because what unfolds before our eyes defies human expectations.
The film oddly was supposed to be the first casualty of the sexual assault allegations erupting in Hollywood, with its star Kevin Spacey being accused of sexual misconduct. Scott did the unthinkable, recasting Christopher Plummer in Spacey’s role, and finishing the shoot in record time.
The end product is a testament to the veteran’s experienced skill set, for Plummer looks tailored for the role, bringing a viperish elegance in his wrinkly presence, and the film, like a seamless jazz of dramatic manoeuvre.
The cancerous effect of infinite wealth and greed decorates Scott’s new feature with Balzacian sweep, based on the John Pearson’s 1995 true-crime book, Painfully Rich: The Outrageous Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Heirs of J. Paul Getty.
The real-life case became a talking point in America because oil magnate John Paul Getty refused to pay $17 million ransom for his kidnapped grandson, as he deliberated “If I pay one penny now, I’ll have 14 kidnapped grandchildren.”
There is an interesting parallel between the director and its leading man. Both Plummer and Scott are octogenarians, and both not ready to walk out of the light. Not yet. Together, they have curated a portrait of old age that shows understanding of the human depravity, with a poise that installs the old as imposing and foreboding.
Plummer’s Getty Sr is a Citizen Kane figure, breathing in images of immense depth, and loneliness. He lives in a palace that has place for priceless paintings and statues, but not for human hubbub. He is both a prisoner and a guard of his wealth, monitoring stock market in a ticker tape that is straight out of Medusa’s head.
Fellini’s influence can be spotted in the beginning, with Italian capital being depicted in a la dolce vita swig.
It’s 1973, 16-year-old Paul aka John Paul Getty III (Charlie Plummer, who is not related to the senior Plummer) leisurely strolls through the streets of Rome. The Roman streets are basked in a wistful light, paparazzi flies by, and street hookers know the curious joys of young boys. The film cuts to the chase in no time, sending a van to kidnap the boy.
The kidnapped boy in the Italian countryside, the glowering patriarch in his mansion, and a desperate mother unsure of the fate of her son, waiting, for a phone call from the abductors and the kindness from the man she loathes. Getty Sr declines, but sends a sneaky operative Fletcher Chase (Mark Wahlberg) to investigate. David Scarpa’s scripts grows its fangs around capitalist exploitation and communist tease, finally stroking the throat of a morality play.
Williams unlike the lifeless attendance in her last week’s release, ‘The Greatest Showman’, is present here with her entire being, a full-blooded portrait of voice modulation that swings from one extreme of imminent misfortune of losing her son to the ludicrousness of her association with a family that has brought her into this situation.
Even one of the abductors develops compassion towards Paul (French star Romain Duris showing striking alacrity as Cinquanta), but the old patriarch remains the grand mix of Shakespeare’s Shylock, Balzac’s Felix Grandet, Molière‘s Harpagon, and Dickens’ Scrooge. As the pitiless stakes go up, Getty Sr enters a negotiation of millions in his mansion, and our hopes rise up for the boy’s life.
But no, the wealthiest man wishes to possess an invaluable painting, the grandson’s life is worth only the tax deductions. He chooses his own misery, owning so much and caring so little that money, the ancient tempter, remains his master instead of a servant, lulling him into infinite hunger. His beloved grandson’s severed ear is not enough to wake him up.
(The writer is a journalist, a screenwriter, and a content developer who believes in the insanity of words, in print or otherwise. He tweets @RanjibMazumder).
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