City of Ghosts Reviews

Actor Matt Dillon's directing debut is a steamy, sleepy chronicle of an American grifter playing hide and seek with his conscience in impoverished but richly evocative Cambodia. Co-written by Dillon and neo-noir novelist Barry Gifford, it revolves around veteran con man Jimmy Cremmins (Dillon), who flees the U.S. one step ahead of the FBI and goes looking for his mentor, Marvin (James Caan) in Southeast Asia. On the advice of another longtime partner-in-crime Kaspar (Stellan Skarsgard), Jimmy leaves the relative safety of Bangkok for Phnom Penh, where Marvin is laying low in hopes of eluding some Russian Mafiosi. Time and trouble seem to slow to a crawl amidst the shimmering haze and crumbling beauty of Phnom Penh, whose serene Buddhas and ornate colonial architecture exist side-by-side with crowded slums and brutal poverty. Jimmy takes up residence at expatriate Emile's (Gerard Depardieu) decrepit Belleville Hotel, befriends a cyclo-driver named Sok (Sereyvuth Kem), flirts with pretty English art restorer Sophie (Natascha McElhone), banters with Emile and waits for Marvin. By the time Marvin finally materializes, sarong-clad and deep in the throes of setting up a shady and potentially lucrative scam involving construction of a resort casino, Jimmy has started wondering what he's doing with his life and whether it's possible for a leopard to change his spots. Dillon makes an assured directing debut, neither indulging in unnecessary stylistic flourishes nor allowing scenes to run too long, a tendency in actors-turned-director. As befits a film inspired by a location — Dillon decided to set a film in Cambodia after a 1993 trip — Phnom Penh is a far more compelling presence than any of the characters (though Skarsgard's sullen, sweaty Kaspar gives it a run for its money), but that isn't entirely a liability. The city's hazy juxtaposition of beauty and squalor, coupled with the oppressive sense of brutal history scabbed over with a fragrant layer of jasmine, is enthralling and adds depth and melancholy color to a story that's drowsily evocative rather than propelled by the snappy twists and turns that traditionally drive crime films.