Part of me feels like I didn’t really get The Limey. Though it’s a spare 85 minutes, director Steven Soderbergh always has a trick or two up his sleeve, and I was sure some twists were in store for me.

Witness Out of Sight, with criminal and cop falling into an unlikely romance. Witness Sex, Lies, and Videotape, which broke the indie film scene wide open. Witness Schizopolis – you know, all of it.

But no matter how many ways I slice it, despite the critical smash that The Limey has become, the film failed to impress me much. The story is trite: British ex-con (Stamp) flies to L.A. to avenge his daughter’s death, which he assumes is the result of foul play due to a music magnate (Fonda). Expecting a clever plot twist, I waited and waited, and then the movie was over.

This isn’t to say that The Limey isn’t a well-made film. As usual, Soderbergh is innovative behind the camera, with flashbacks, flash-forwards, flashes sideways, alternate realities, and optical trickery. While this is distracting, it does server to make the film more visceral and fun. Stamp and Fonda make for interesting rivals, but neither really owns the film. The most intriguing part of The Limey is Stamp’s limey slang: words like “snaffle” and “doolally” that spice up the lingo a la A Clockwork Orange (though never with the same power).

Unfortunately, The Limey falls into that class of films that is perfectly watchable but ultimately forgettable. Soderbergh fans will rejoice. The rest of the world will scratch its collective head.



Twist of Lime.