Movie Review: Dom Hemingway
The tale of Dom Hemingway (Jude Law) is a vibrant, loud, transparent mix of character study and black comedy. Dom Hemingway tells the story of Dom, a convict who has spent twelve years in prison for keeping his mouth closed regarding a job he did for crime boss Mr. Fontaine (Demian Bichir). After he is released from prison (in an opening that resembles a Quentin Tarantino film; full of quick dialogue, a grand entrance, vibrant colors, and a punchy song in the background), Dom spends the rest of the film trying to regain what he feels he is rightfully owed.
Although the film began with a promisingly funny segment of Dom comparing his junk to Renior and Picasso, most aspects of Dom Hemingway baffled me. From the odd change in pace of the script to the title cards, I was dumbfounded. Dom Hemingway, as a character, does not have much of an arc. He’s simply tossed around by his own ill-minded mistakes until he is forced to crawl to his daughter, whom he hasn’t talked to in years, for help.
Let’s hop back to those title cards, shall we? Never before have I seen something so pointless in a film. While it was another part of Dom Hemingway that seemed almost Tarantino-esque, the significance was infinitesimally small. The plot didn’t change in between sequences. The only purpose of the title cards was to repeat a line that was stated previously in the film.
Speaking of repetition, much of the speech involving Dom happens with his partner in crime, Dickie (Richard E. Grant), and Lestor Jr. (Jumayn Hunter, whom I thought was very entertaining and would love to see in larger films). While some of Dom’s own lines are funny (like “I’m a peasant at heart. A petty serf with nice hair and a strong liver”), most of the dialogue between these two is filled with blatant repetition and one-upsmanship. Not only is this annoying, but its comedic potential is slim to none.
Issues continue in Dom Hemingway when characters unnecessarily start singing. Early on in the film, Paolina (Madaline Diana Ghenea) performs an odd duet with a record player. The scene is strange and almost tangibly fake, from the wind to the small talk occurring mid-song. Luckily, Dom calls Paolina out on her terrible singing later on in the film.
And then what the hell is up with Dom’s daughter Evelyn (Emilia Clarke, Daenerys Targaryen from Game of Thrones)? While it’s nice to get a glimpse into her life with her successful interracial relationship, it is extremely unnecessary to see her sing at a small town club. The scene drags on with no significance as Evelyn sings a cringe-worthy ballad in near slow motion. Maybe we just had to see Dom drink yet another beer.
While Dom Hemingway is written with borderline mediocrity, full of jokes that fall flat or simply fail to stick, there were a few admittedly positive things about the film. Jude Law was fantastic. His performance, emphasized to the maximum capacity with his grand facial expressions, was top notch. The color grading and composition of most shots were also great. Vibrant yellows, blues, and reds accented most scenes spectacularly well. The production design of Dom Hemingway was also exquisite. The humongous canvas monkey photos in Mr. Fontaine’s villa were eye-catching (to say the least). Not to mention the entire club scene with Lestor Jr. steals the show. From the hyper-colorized shots of London to the looping projection of the topless Ping-Pong players, my eyes were amused.
While there were many things I did enjoy about Dom Hemingway, the inconsistencies of the entire film were repelling. Even as the film ended, with all hope for the titular character intact, it was too little too late. While I have respect for every director, Richard Shepard has to decide if he wants to emulate Wes Anderson’s stylization and Tarantino’s in-your-face attitude or if he wants to focus on his storytelling.