Steven Soderberg's portrait of a British career criminal in the US of A begins with a dark, imageless screen and a few words of dialogue, spoken fiercely: "Tell me about Jenny". And so the 'The Limey' begins, the audience asking questions from the opening seconds: Who is Jenny? Who wants to know about her? Why are they angry? This relatively low-key, smoothly and masterfully paced crime-drama works slowly and steadily towards answering all of the questions it poses, while remaining ambiguous and intriguing even after the credits have rolled: 'The Limey' is the sort of film that stays with you for a while after you've watched it.
Terence Stamp gives a fine, award-worthy performance as a man who is looking to find out how and why his daughter died. His techniques are varied, but he never holds back, and is adamant that he will learn the truth. Watching how he learns the truth is what holds your attention: you can't take your eyes of Stamp who (to repeat the above sentiment) is brilliant, and an inspired piece of casting. The part of Wilson is written with wit and humour (think Cockney-rhyming slang, and utterly perplexed Americans), violence and brutality, and Stamp has no problem dealing with both. Through Stamp's performance Wislon becomes a genuinely frightening cinematic creation, moving easily from the calmly passive to the madly aggressive. He is not just a 'tough-guy', he is a believable, plausible one (albeit one who in many ways remains an enigma).
'The Limey' also shows director Soderberg at his technical and artistic best; this is a film so well produced that it flows almost too naturally: no jagged edges, no visible signs of construction, no shoddy workmanship, only great production values, from top to bottom. And it is this technical perfection which allows Soderberg to pull off his unconventional narrative structure so successfully. The complex layering of time - memory, future, and present - adds to the audience's understanding of the characters and motivations: inter-cut into the scene of Wilson meeting Luis we see shots of Wilson earlier, while he is on a plane, thinking, we assume about his arrival in the US. The audience is moved backward and forward in time, the narrative folding back in on itself, and then progressing, returning to anchor images in the past (a close-up, for example, on Stamp's character as he contemplates various possible grizzly deaths for the man he thinks killed his daughter) and using that anchor to change the way we view and understand what is happening in the 'present' moment of the narrative. However, this brief summary fails to do the subtle and affecting style justice - seeing, in this case, really is believing; Soderberg has made a film which has to be watched to be understood.
Anyone who enjoyed Soderberg's other stylish and slick crime movies 'Out of Sight' and 'Ocean's Eleven' will enjoy 'The Limey', and will notice the Soderberg hallmarks (there is even a George Clooney cameo), concerns, and attention to detail; but at the same time 'The Limey' is quite different in tone and atmosphere, and is arguably far, far richer in its exploration of its chosen themes and ideas, as well as being far, far more experimental and proactive in its approach to how events are presented on screen.