BALLAD OF A SMALL PLAYER - Mark Reviews Movies

Ballad of a Small Player, Netflix

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Review by Mark Dujsik | October 14, 2025

One gets quite a good sense of the man who calls himself Lord Doyle (Colin Farrell) upon a first impression in Ballad of a Small Player. There's where he's at, for one thing, and that would be Macau and, more specifically, a luxurious hotel room in one of the region's many casinos. The room's a wreck, and so, too, is the self-proclaimed noble, who awakens with groans and sits on the edge of the bed. Upon realizing the reality of his situation, he lets out a single word—an expletive that's loaded with regret and dread.

Lord Doyle, which is neither an authentic title or his real name, has it bad right now. He's a gambler, and more to the point, he's an addict. When he came to Macau, he had plenty of cash, as we soon learn, and he acts as if he still has as much as or even more than when he arrived.

That's his game, even more so than baccarat, his preferred card game of choice. As long as everyone believes he's upper-class and wealthy, the people at the casinos will give him whatever he wants, knowing that they'll end up with at least some of his money from the hotel bill and have a better chance of getting even more of it on the casino floor.

Here's the real thing about Doyle, though: He currently doesn't have much money left. It's so bad, in fact, that the guy can't hide any longer, no matter how bright and expensive-looking his suits may be, no matter how he struts through the casino, and no matter the casual entitlement he displays when asking the valet if he can use the establishment's limo for a trip. It's all in the eyes, because Doyle is, among several other characters he meets or learns about during these days in Macau, a lost soul.

Farrell's performance here is quite a thing to witness, because the actor can switch on a dime from the bravado of the Lord Doyle persona to the sad reality of the man who has adopted it. That guy is named Freddy, and he's a hustler. He's not a very good one, either, because everyone can see through his tricks as soon as the reality of his thin wallet becomes obvious. An older woman, whom everyone refers to as "Grandma" (Deanie Ip), can spot it as soon as he sits on the other end of a long baccarat table. She knows this alleged lord is going to lose, to take whatever credit is offered to him, and to try to bail on the tab for an expensive bottle of champagne.

Another one who can see through the lord to Freddy is Cynthia (Tilda Swinton), a private investigator who knows how this man got the money to go to and gamble it all away in Macau. Her client wants the cash repaid or for Freddy to return to England, so that the cops can arrest him. The first sign of the real Freddy comes when he thinks he has cornered Cynthia in a casino washroom, only for her to reveal her hand. Farrell lets the posh English dialect slip and finally drop entirely into his Irish brogue as that conversation proceeds, because Cynthia has stripped him of any and every façade in that moment.

The plot here is mostly irrelevant, but it does have Doyle/Freddy needing to repay an increasing amount of money to multiple parties. He has to pay the bill for his hotel room in a few days, or the management will have him arrested in Macau. In about the same amount of time, he has to give back the money he stole back home, because, if Cynthia can find him, someone less polite than her could probably find him, too.

Director Edward Berger, working from a script by Rowan Joffé that was adapted from a novel by Lawrence Osborne, isn't interested in turning this material into some kind of race-against-the-clock thriller, however. It's simply a study of a man who, backed into two obvious corners, cannot stop himself from finding more ways to back himself into even more corners.

That's the way of addiction, and the movie is quite compelling and sometimes harrowing in how it presents Freddy's dilemma as one from which there is no escape. Even when he can't gamble, the man finds another outlet for his insatiable desire, namely to eat as much food as his gut can handle—and then have several servings on top of that.

It's refreshing to see this character study presented simply as that, and then, the movie ultimately becomes a bit too self-important for its own good. See, there's another thread running through this, having to do with an independent loan shark named Dao Ming (Fala Chen). She's kind of a reflection of Freddy, as well as a very convenient source of aid to the guy when he's really down on his luck.

Ballad of a Small Player has something else in mind with this relationship, which is more or less given away in a throwaway joke that obviously isn't one. In trying to elevate this material to the realm of an existential game of sorts, the filmmakers finally turn this into an unnecessary puzzle. The answer it offers us is far less interesting than the one it gives us about Freddy from the very beginning.

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