Screw the people with gold in their hands.
Adam McKay's outrageously brilliant 'The Big Short' is a hell of an accomplishment- a roaring, scathing and scorching comedy on the imminent collapse of an empire and the utterly rascally yet redeemable scoundrels who made a big killing over it. It has wicked wit yet wonderful warmth, a wacky mind yet a whimsical heart and all these things come along to make a truly unique cinematic experience that is, as evidenced by the all-too-obvious results of Oscars 2016, a tad too brilliant for the average cinema-goer.
In a flash of irony, it is also tad too much of fun than what its normally grim and dystopic subject would suggest. The buildup and subsequent climax to the relentless banking bubble that burst and destroyed many a economy across the globe is hardly stuff for even excitement and yet McKay and his truly terrific cast turn it into the darkest of all satires- as much as full of anarchic audacity as much as of a pitch-black cynicism that questions the 'greed is good' dictum head-on with confrontation in its buzzing mind.
It is then a marvel of how 'The Big Short' turns out to be packed to the gills with the quirk than its original source- Michael Lewis' lauded non-fiction account of the mortgage crisis that doomed America for once and for all, which was mostly straight-up and serious. The film begins, progresses and ends in its own bizarre, fourth-wall busting, hilarious rhythm, cramming together its smart-aleck opportunists with changed names and all-too-believable identities and all-too-personal demons within them.
It starts with Michael Burry, an almost autistic hedge fund owner, peeking into mortgage bonds, which clearly cannot be read by the normal people, and discovering an illegitimate garden of ripening economic disaster- a garden from which he seeks to reap profits at the cost of homes and lives falling apart.
He starts shorting bad mortgage loans to banks, whisking away many an office mug while bankers laugh foolishly over his errors and sets in motion a chain of events and characters, all who jump in to make a killing out of the certainty of the seemingly impossible. Jared Vennett is a gold-digging, smart-talking banker who pitches the same idea, through Jenga blocks, to relentlessly curious hedge fund manager Mark Baum and his crew of hungry followers, while two rookie investors also fall in for the scheme, none of them suspecting how it would change everything- and even them.
And McKay lets us get up and close to this ragtag cast of sharks, so much that we get to see both their gleaming teeth as well as the bloody shreds of their conscience stuck somewhere behind in the dark. None of the people in 'The Big Short' are heroes, neither are they villains. They are merely people driven by ambition, eccentricity or personal demons as they set out to grab a fortune by betting on a future nobody else believes in.
Do I make it sound too serious? Well, you will be wrong. McKay, a gifted satirist, lets his comic flair rip in the film, throwing in all sorts of quirk and bizarre style- the film flitting away in quick takes and snaps- in flashbacks, random music videos, TV commercials and news flashes- in such deliriously giddy style that would rival even masters Martin Scorsese and Danny Boyle in sheer, freaked-out energy. Yet, all of it makes shattering sense- the jubilation of a pair of rookie investors on their breakthrough cuts to the equally whacked out video of Polyphonic Spree's 'Lithium' while early on, mirroring the buzz of the newly discovered get-rich-quick scam, we are transported simultaneously across an assortment of almost trippy audio-visual cuts and sneaks that rise into a crescendo of money-making madness.
Cinematographer Barry Ackroyd, the master of the hand-held visual format, utilizes his tools, normally suited to frenetic Paul Greengrass thrillers, to capture the electric, hypnotic charge of the verbal proceedings. The camera often zooms and flits away, in deliberately harried fashion and the effect is almost hyper-kinetic in style, lending a surge of hedonistic adrenalin as the best laid scams are planned and executed with reckless glee. Also, while Vennett serves as the film's primary narrator- laying down the backstories and jargon with thick relish-many of the characters recklessly smash every fourth wall available- talking, confessing, snapping to the audience to reveal it all- even at one instances, the creative liberties taken with the actual truth. It is as snappy and racy as a Woody Allen comedy.
Nor is the wit just limited to the visuals. McKay and co-writer Charles Randolph have also crafted a sizzling, terrifically entertaining narrative that burts with random splashes of wit and broad strokes of dark comedy that make it closer to the work of masters of verbal pyrotechnics like Aaron Sorkin and Terence Winter. The way the razor-sharp script flies- from men barking jargon and profanity on phones, to the same discussing lumps on testicles, from Vennett calling his scheme as 'fire insurance on a burning building' to a sleazy mortgage-broker wondering aloud who is Warren Buffet, everything- the words, the way they are said and what they mean- is pencil-pointed in its blazing wisdom, in its acidic irony of the darkness. And it is not just the spoken word. In between, the film tosses us dictionary-meanings of the more impenetrable jargon and then gives that a clever toss too- like how making trades without an ISDA could be like trying to win the Indy 500 on a lama. The scalding wit just cuts to the bone, even as it makes it tickle.
The performances are exceptionally good, each better than each other.
Christian Bale, as a metal-addicted Burry, gives a performance of disturbing, slithery quirk, coating his mild-mannered character with an obsessive streak that borders on near-insanity. The way he slurs his speech and turns away his gaze from those staring at him bewilderingly is both infectiously hilarious yet unsettling.
Ryan Gosling, as Vennett, grabs the film's best lines and its most comically charged moments- his monologue, disguised as a slinky pitch for the scheme, is a crowning moment of pitch-black mirth and he absolutely nails it, when he snaps at his assistant to shut up, even after being praised by the same. He is totally riveting as a wolf amidst a bunch of wide-eyed, unbelieving sheep.
Special mention goes to John Magaro and Finn Whitlock, playing wet-behind-the-ears investors Charlie Geller and Jamie Shipley whose bristling excitement at making the deal of their lives eventually turns into cautious apprehension. Grounding the film into realism is Brad Pitt playing, with beautiful restraint, veteran trader Ben Rickert, endowed with a negative world-view, who nails it when he finally loses his cool over other folks making profits out the certainty of disaster for mankind.
And even with these terrific performances, this film belongs to Steve Carell as the irritable, fiery yet ultimately dumb-struck Mark Baum. It is Baum's personal pathos- his demons of a family tragedy and his suspicious eye over every single thing- that lends 'The Big Short' its real crackling comedy as well as its searing human tragedy. Loud-mouthed yet utterly vulnerable and ultimately poignant with his faith in the system shattered, he is a true delight, stealing much of the show.
McKay borrows the whizzy editing (care of Hank Corwin) and stylistic long-takes of Scorsese more than frequently but his film is ultimately closer in vein to a Stanley Kubrick classic- in its dissection of mankind defeated by a man-made monstrosity that defeats perfection.
And while Marty's 'The Wolf Of Wall Street' was like 'A Clockwork Orange' in its revelry of the lusty, greedy monster inside us all, this is as presciently, nightmarishly funny, as 'Dr. Strangelove'- in the way it prophesies an apocalypse and lets us laugh at the men scratching their heads over what went wrong.
Then again, there is real soul in 'The Big Short' too- the way it shows us both an alligator cooling it off in an abandoned private pool and the plight of people left with homes bought by others. Sink into it and watch it as a definitive story of our times. And remember- if you ever feel hungry for details, or turned off by its barrage of jargon, well there is always Anthony Bourdain's seafood soup or Margot Robbie in a bubble bath for you.
My rating- 5 Stars out of 5
Adam McKay's outrageously brilliant 'The Big Short' is a hell of an accomplishment- a roaring, scathing and scorching comedy on the imminent collapse of an empire and the utterly rascally yet redeemable scoundrels who made a big killing over it. It has wicked wit yet wonderful warmth, a wacky mind yet a whimsical heart and all these things come along to make a truly unique cinematic experience that is, as evidenced by the all-too-obvious results of Oscars 2016, a tad too brilliant for the average cinema-goer.
In a flash of irony, it is also tad too much of fun than what its normally grim and dystopic subject would suggest. The buildup and subsequent climax to the relentless banking bubble that burst and destroyed many a economy across the globe is hardly stuff for even excitement and yet McKay and his truly terrific cast turn it into the darkest of all satires- as much as full of anarchic audacity as much as of a pitch-black cynicism that questions the 'greed is good' dictum head-on with confrontation in its buzzing mind.
It is then a marvel of how 'The Big Short' turns out to be packed to the gills with the quirk than its original source- Michael Lewis' lauded non-fiction account of the mortgage crisis that doomed America for once and for all, which was mostly straight-up and serious. The film begins, progresses and ends in its own bizarre, fourth-wall busting, hilarious rhythm, cramming together its smart-aleck opportunists with changed names and all-too-believable identities and all-too-personal demons within them.
It starts with Michael Burry, an almost autistic hedge fund owner, peeking into mortgage bonds, which clearly cannot be read by the normal people, and discovering an illegitimate garden of ripening economic disaster- a garden from which he seeks to reap profits at the cost of homes and lives falling apart.
He starts shorting bad mortgage loans to banks, whisking away many an office mug while bankers laugh foolishly over his errors and sets in motion a chain of events and characters, all who jump in to make a killing out of the certainty of the seemingly impossible. Jared Vennett is a gold-digging, smart-talking banker who pitches the same idea, through Jenga blocks, to relentlessly curious hedge fund manager Mark Baum and his crew of hungry followers, while two rookie investors also fall in for the scheme, none of them suspecting how it would change everything- and even them.
And McKay lets us get up and close to this ragtag cast of sharks, so much that we get to see both their gleaming teeth as well as the bloody shreds of their conscience stuck somewhere behind in the dark. None of the people in 'The Big Short' are heroes, neither are they villains. They are merely people driven by ambition, eccentricity or personal demons as they set out to grab a fortune by betting on a future nobody else believes in.
Do I make it sound too serious? Well, you will be wrong. McKay, a gifted satirist, lets his comic flair rip in the film, throwing in all sorts of quirk and bizarre style- the film flitting away in quick takes and snaps- in flashbacks, random music videos, TV commercials and news flashes- in such deliriously giddy style that would rival even masters Martin Scorsese and Danny Boyle in sheer, freaked-out energy. Yet, all of it makes shattering sense- the jubilation of a pair of rookie investors on their breakthrough cuts to the equally whacked out video of Polyphonic Spree's 'Lithium' while early on, mirroring the buzz of the newly discovered get-rich-quick scam, we are transported simultaneously across an assortment of almost trippy audio-visual cuts and sneaks that rise into a crescendo of money-making madness.
Cinematographer Barry Ackroyd, the master of the hand-held visual format, utilizes his tools, normally suited to frenetic Paul Greengrass thrillers, to capture the electric, hypnotic charge of the verbal proceedings. The camera often zooms and flits away, in deliberately harried fashion and the effect is almost hyper-kinetic in style, lending a surge of hedonistic adrenalin as the best laid scams are planned and executed with reckless glee. Also, while Vennett serves as the film's primary narrator- laying down the backstories and jargon with thick relish-many of the characters recklessly smash every fourth wall available- talking, confessing, snapping to the audience to reveal it all- even at one instances, the creative liberties taken with the actual truth. It is as snappy and racy as a Woody Allen comedy.
Nor is the wit just limited to the visuals. McKay and co-writer Charles Randolph have also crafted a sizzling, terrifically entertaining narrative that burts with random splashes of wit and broad strokes of dark comedy that make it closer to the work of masters of verbal pyrotechnics like Aaron Sorkin and Terence Winter. The way the razor-sharp script flies- from men barking jargon and profanity on phones, to the same discussing lumps on testicles, from Vennett calling his scheme as 'fire insurance on a burning building' to a sleazy mortgage-broker wondering aloud who is Warren Buffet, everything- the words, the way they are said and what they mean- is pencil-pointed in its blazing wisdom, in its acidic irony of the darkness. And it is not just the spoken word. In between, the film tosses us dictionary-meanings of the more impenetrable jargon and then gives that a clever toss too- like how making trades without an ISDA could be like trying to win the Indy 500 on a lama. The scalding wit just cuts to the bone, even as it makes it tickle.
The performances are exceptionally good, each better than each other.
Christian Bale, as a metal-addicted Burry, gives a performance of disturbing, slithery quirk, coating his mild-mannered character with an obsessive streak that borders on near-insanity. The way he slurs his speech and turns away his gaze from those staring at him bewilderingly is both infectiously hilarious yet unsettling.
Ryan Gosling, as Vennett, grabs the film's best lines and its most comically charged moments- his monologue, disguised as a slinky pitch for the scheme, is a crowning moment of pitch-black mirth and he absolutely nails it, when he snaps at his assistant to shut up, even after being praised by the same. He is totally riveting as a wolf amidst a bunch of wide-eyed, unbelieving sheep.
Special mention goes to John Magaro and Finn Whitlock, playing wet-behind-the-ears investors Charlie Geller and Jamie Shipley whose bristling excitement at making the deal of their lives eventually turns into cautious apprehension. Grounding the film into realism is Brad Pitt playing, with beautiful restraint, veteran trader Ben Rickert, endowed with a negative world-view, who nails it when he finally loses his cool over other folks making profits out the certainty of disaster for mankind.
And even with these terrific performances, this film belongs to Steve Carell as the irritable, fiery yet ultimately dumb-struck Mark Baum. It is Baum's personal pathos- his demons of a family tragedy and his suspicious eye over every single thing- that lends 'The Big Short' its real crackling comedy as well as its searing human tragedy. Loud-mouthed yet utterly vulnerable and ultimately poignant with his faith in the system shattered, he is a true delight, stealing much of the show.
McKay borrows the whizzy editing (care of Hank Corwin) and stylistic long-takes of Scorsese more than frequently but his film is ultimately closer in vein to a Stanley Kubrick classic- in its dissection of mankind defeated by a man-made monstrosity that defeats perfection.
And while Marty's 'The Wolf Of Wall Street' was like 'A Clockwork Orange' in its revelry of the lusty, greedy monster inside us all, this is as presciently, nightmarishly funny, as 'Dr. Strangelove'- in the way it prophesies an apocalypse and lets us laugh at the men scratching their heads over what went wrong.
Then again, there is real soul in 'The Big Short' too- the way it shows us both an alligator cooling it off in an abandoned private pool and the plight of people left with homes bought by others. Sink into it and watch it as a definitive story of our times. And remember- if you ever feel hungry for details, or turned off by its barrage of jargon, well there is always Anthony Bourdain's seafood soup or Margot Robbie in a bubble bath for you.
My rating- 5 Stars out of 5
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