Dom Hemingway

Dom Hemingway, the character, knows how to make an entrance. In the feature that bears his name, his aggressive presence is immediately evident. Upon walking into a room, he electrifies, galvanises and garners instant attention. With those in his orbit simultaneously enamoured and horrified, attracted to and repelled by his enigma, Dom (Jude Law, Side Effects) is a frantic, chest-puffing, venom-spitting, punch-throwing ball of energy, fast of mouth, fleet of foot, and unthinking in action. From his first appearance in the final throes of climax, Dom is simply unavoidable.

Dom Hemingway, the film, also knows how to create a lasting first impression. It shouts its frenetic nature for all to see, forcibly thrusting its vigour at its audience. With steely resolve, it retains an unflinching gaze on the dalliance with gangster darkness that graces its frames. Long before it begins swaggering between episodic segments, each with its own irreverently descriptive moniker, it establishes its atmosphere of audacity. The feature’s dominant introduction, a testosterone-fuelled monologue in more ways in one, as delivered to-camera without missing a beat, unmistakably conveys the unrelenting tone of the character and the audience.

Richard Shepard’s latest effort, and his first since 2007’s The Hunting Party, stays true to its initial imprint; indeed, it is this first wave of bravado that sustains the entire film. In chronicling Dom’s days of freedom after dutifully serving a 12-year prison term to protect his mob boss employer (Demián Bichir, Machete Kills), each step towards a better life taken with his devoted best friend Dickie (Richard E. Grant, Kath & Kimderella) by his side, the writer/director’s commitment to his colourful central personality remains. Dom may adopt the shadow of weariness as his drink- and drug-fuelled plans are increasingly derailed, but not the movie that houses him or the man that created him. Shepard’s blackly comic, obviously Bronson and Sexy Beast-inspired offering only has one mode of operation: brazen.

In the type of showpiece but not just showy role his career has been missing, Law relishes the chance to dance with a more dangerous environment than his on-screen persona is commonly associated with. Perfecting the prominent physicality and profanity of his larger-than-life anti-hero, he ducks and weaves through heated beatings, terse altercations, violent crashes and tentative family reunions (with Game of Thrones’ Emilia Clarke as his estranged daughter), taking everything in his hulking stride. The sense that this is a part that Law has been waiting for, the ideal amalgam of apathy and intrigue as flirted with in past efforts, is palpable. Though wavering between vibrating with intensity and heatedly chewing the scenery, he is never anything but the film’s standout.

Often, despite its unabashed one-note approach, the feature is less fruitful in its endeavours, the chasm between idea and execution not always filled. Shepard’s wordy, tangent-prone dialogue plays with potency and importance, sidling around the edges of Dom’s existential dilemma, but is often allowed to run on too long; in fact, the handling of each scene, as jauntily composed as each shot is, frequently suffers from the same issue. The filmmaker’s efforts still entertain, but only superficially so, with few signs of depth sliding through the feverish packaging. The underlying tale of the impossibility of redemption remains a little too obvious, but its brutality shines through. Yet, though not always realised, for Dom Hemingway there’s the spark of something special in its sheer blunt force.

Rating: 3 stars out of 5