***1/2
Neil Jordan’s Mona Lisa opens with a shot of one of London’s many bridges at
dusk. Crossing that bridge with a
sense of urgency, and clutching a large yellow envelope is George (Bob
Hoskins), a man just released from a seven-year jail sentence. Playing from the film’s soundtrack,
oozing with schmaltz is Nat King Cole’s eponymously titled song from 1950,
“Mona Lisa”. That song, though it
cannot be made clear from the opening credits, but seeing how it is heard in
snippets throughout the remainder of the film, holds some sort of
significance. George, for one, has
a penchant for this type of music—that song in particular. It says something curious about him,
because he’s a rough-edged man, and his swift movements indicate a proclivity
towards wild, unexpected outbursts.
What he lacks in stature he more than compensates with in
intensity. But beneath this gruff
exterior is a real softy—a romantic who embodies every tender strain of Nat
King Cole’s “Mona Lisa”. “Mona
Lisa”, both the song and the painting, serves as a parable for the object of
George’s affection: a young, high-end call girl named Simone (Cathy Tyson),
whom George is hired to drive around from job to job. She’s charming, as every prostitute in her class should be,
and is every bit as feisty as George, easily holding her own against him. And just like the famous painting,
“Mona Lisa”, possesses some mystery behind her meek smile. Mona Lisa is a gritty, convincing, and lurid tale of love
drawn from the dregs of society.
While its story is not an uplifting one, it’s a very thoughtful film,
and there are enough shocks and surprises to keep you thinking about it for a
long time afterward.
The
greatest strength of this film is in the performances. Bob Hoskins in particular is a real
dynamo, and his performance is the kind that will leave an indelible imprint on
your memory. While watching him,
it occurred to me just how regrettable it is that actors of his appearance and
stature would never get leading roles such as this anymore. The role of George is that of a
blue-collar criminal, and a Cockney at that. Bob Hoskins is a perfect conceptual match for this character. Pair that with the merits of his
performance and it gives the film an air of authenticity and believability
which is absolutely necessary to be convincing. The same can easily be said for the rest of the cast. Cathy Tyson, who surprisingly remained
an unknown after the release of this film, exudes just the right amount of each
thorny emotional ingredient to account for the baggage that makes the character
of Simone both a tragic one and an enigma. It’s understandable that her experience as a prostitute,
having been ruefully abused by her pimps and heartlessly objectified by her
clients has led her to resent the male sex as a whole.
The initial
relationship between George and Simone is a prickly one. She’s used to dealing with an upscale
clientele, and accepts George, with his shabby clothes, bloody marys, and
uncouth manner with noticeable irritation. He accepts with reluctance her offer to provide him with a
new wardrobe to match the classic white Jaguar he’s been provided to drive her
around in. Gradually they warm up
to one another, and George bubbles confidingly to his mechanic friend, Thomas
(a very young Robbie Coltrane), his growing affections. When Simone urges George to help her
locate a fellow prostitute whom she vowed to protect, her motives appear to be
quite obvious. Where the truth
lies, however, gives the story so much more dimension. The world in which George enters into
in his search for this young girl, Cathy, is one that makes clear George’s
mettle. He’s a fearless individual,
for sure, but not an unfeeling one.
Having to witness first hand the plight of these young girls, many of
who are underage, we see that George is horrified. This of course is compounded by the fact that he is also
trying to reconnect with his daughter, who is in high school. His sense of disgust is further
extended when he learns of the direct connection between Simone’s missing
friend and his employer, the slimy Mortwell. Mortwell, whose screen time is few, is effectively played by
Michael Caine. Caine has so seldom
played villains, and yet he’s so naturally adept to it that it’s a large wonder
why he hasn’t accepted the undertaking more often. Mortwell is an incredible sleaze, and the nonchalance in
which he approaches his sordid business dealings would have to be reflected in
the face. Caine does this superbly
with those phlegmatic eyes of his and wry smile. When George’s devotion to Simone crosses with his
obligations to Mortwell the film’s climax is both shocking and
provocative. Throughout the film
you clearly feel the plot moving towards some sort of culmination, but Simone’s
ambiguity keeps you guessing as to what the nature of that culmination will
be. The pacing is good throughout,
and the climax is delivered to maximum effect.
Mona
Lisa does what every good movie should do:
tell a story, devoid of sleekness in excess and pretension, and allow you to
experience that story through the vividness of its characters. This is indeed a gritty story, and it
is presented with biting realism (reportedly, real prostitutes were used for
the scenes filmed at King’s Cross in London). It’s that unabashed sense of realism that, in addition to
the great performances, draws you into the story. Mona Lisa is a
film that deserves to be exhumed from the shelves.
