Laundromat star scrubs up nicely
The Laundromat Cert tbc, 95min ★★★★★ Dir Steven Soderbergh Starring Gary Oldman, Antonio Banderas, Meryl Streep, David Schwimmer, Matthias Schoenaerts, James Cromwell, Nonso Anozie, Jessica Allain, Nikki Amuka-bird, Jeffrey Wright
‘Privacy is when you lock the bathroom door while taking a pee,” explains Antonio Banderas in his reassuring chocolate-mousse baritone around halfway through Steven Soderbergh’s The Laundromat. “Secrecy is when what you are doing in the bathroom is not what people normally do.”
This is a useful distinction to have spelt out during a film about the 2016 Panama Papers scandal, in which the money-laundering and tax-dodging tactics of the rich and famous were laid bare in leaked documents from the Panamanian law firm Mossack Fonseca. And Banderas and his co-star Gary Oldman – who play Mossack and Fonseca themselves – do a lot of this kind of thing in it: cordially expounding on concepts such as shell companies and offshore accounts while swanning around in tuxedos. As the German-born Mossack, Oldman deploys a ripe Bavarian accent that suggests Werner Herzog moonlighting as a sommelier. When an underling bridles at a request to fiddle the dates on his accounts, he philosophically offers: “Some peeeeple believe that time is chust an illooshun.” There’s always a justification if you look hard enough.
The Laundromat was adapted by Scott Z Burns from Jake Bernstein’s book Secrecy World, and uses the scandal as the basis for a wickedly comic, full-spectrum analysis of human greed. It follows a number of characters from all walks of life who either actively plunge into, or become involuntarily swept up in, the taxavoidance racket. Foremost among them is Meryl Streep’s (fictional) crusading widow Ellen Martin, who follows the thread of a low-level Texas insurance scam all the way to a Mossack Fonseca outpost on the Caribbean island of Nevis. The much-honoured actress is content to be part of the ensemble, albeit in a bigger part than you initially realise, for reasons that are too much fun to spoil here. But the film’s base notes of outrage and bewilderment at this hidden world of financial sharp practice are rooted in her.
Its twist of moral ambiguity is, too. Ellen is ostensibly out for justice. Her husband (James Cromwell) has drowned during a ruby wedding anniversary boat trip, and since the charter company’s insurer has refused to pay out, she decides to track them down in person.
But when it comes down to it, by “justice” she actually means “money”, in the form of a life-changing settlement. The theme is repeated in a lightly farcical subplot in which a Crafty crusader: Meryl Streep uncovers a hidden world of financial sharp practice
married Los Angeles-based businessman (Nonso Anozie) offers $20million (£16million) in Panamabased shares to his daughter Simone (an impressive turn by the young British actress Jessica Allain) to keep schtum about his affair with her room-mate. The young woman is appalled, but her eyes also flash with opportunity. In short, she’s immediately compromised, even though the money itself – stashed in companies with wispy names like Jetstream, Whitecloud and Nimbus – remains an airy figment.
The sketch-show structure and do-try-to-keep-up tone both smack of The Big Short, Adam Mckay’s 2015 financial crisis caper, and there is no question that this is another topical comedy designed to galvanise viewers into outrage, and perhaps also action. (It ends with a thrillingly crafty monologue from Streep that drew cheers in yesterday’s screening at the Venice Film Festival.)
Even its creators aren’t spared. A section on the Delaware boom in shell companies – essentially, corporations on paper that are primarily used to move money around – dobs in Soderbergh and Burns themselves.
“The director of this movie has five!” Oldman tuts, while Banderas marvels: “Even the writer has one.” (Soderbergh, who has directed four films and two TV series since his supposed retirement in 2013 following Behind the Candelabra, his Liberace biopic, clarifies in the accompanying notes that he creates them for administrative reasons for each subsequent project, rather than using them to generate an income.) The Laundromat often uses this kind of fourth-wall-breaking jolt to bring its message into focus, although a horribly graphic surgery montage during a sequence set in China is overkill, and makes you forget the point it’s trying to make.
Still, the cumulative message comes over loud and clear, and the fun and indignation make for a tasty, bracing cocktail. This is a film that wields its sledgehammer with panache.
Released in select UK cinemas on September 27 and on Netflix on October 18