'Margin Call': A Portrait of the 1 Percent
The 2011 financial thriller “Margin Call” has a lot of great things going for it (like a crackerjack cast that includes Jeremy Irons, pictured above) although during its brief theatrical run, wide distribution was not one of them. It never hit more than 200 screens in the U.S. It did, oddly enough, open on 226 screens in Russia while domestically it was playing the same late October weekend on only 56 screens. I pause here to note that sequels in the “Pirates of the Caribbean,” “Harry Potter,” “Transformers,” and “Twilight” franchises all opened on more than 4,000 screens. But, I digress.
One of the film’s virtues is that it has no villains. The setting is an unnamed Wall Street investment firm in the final 24 hours before the economic collapse of 2008. Like David Mamet’s “Glengary Glen Ross,” none of the characters is presented as the bad guy. Not even Jeremy Irons’ slithery portrayal of the CEO qualifies as a depiction of evil, or even of “greed is good” as a corporate imperative. He and his employees simply do what the system requires of them -- the one percent -- with the only possible result being: the rest of us -- the 99 percent -- pay for it, literally, with lost homes, under-water mortgages and decimated pensions.
I make it sound like an anti-capitalist screed. It isn't. This isn't like watching Michael Moore with a bullhorn. “Margin Call” is a beautifully understated film that simply tells truths about Wall Street, and more precisely, what real investment firms actually did in the lead-up to 2008. It's an honest portrayal.
There is an extraordinary moment about halfway through the film when, in the wee hours before the markets open, everyone realizes that the ship is going down. Two top tier executives board an elevator, and there’s a cleaning lady in there with the tools of her trade. The executives flank her, and the woman stares wordlessly ahead as the one percenters continue the conversation that began before they got on the elevator. It’s as if, to them, she doesn’t even exist.
These people live in an insular world, cut off from the wreckage and human misery they leave behind. That’s about as close as “Margin Call” comes to beating you over the head with it. To his credit, director J.C. Chandor embraces “less is more” school of storytelling. No one is shot, or throws himself off a building or under a subway. There is no desperate, across-town race-against-time. No screaming matches. The entire film consists of people talking urgently to each other and occasionally staring in horror at a computer screen or spreadsheet. And it manages to be rip-roaring exciting.
Hollywood rarely makes films like this -- films that realistically and clearly depict the inner sanctums of high finance (not an easy topic to render visually) sans hyperbole and pulled punches. In fact, since the shit hit the fan nearly four years ago, this is the only one I’m aware of, excluding documentaries. Certainly, I’m unaware of any that played on more than 4,000 movie screens.
This review originally appeared on my blog on January 7, 2012.
One of the film’s virtues is that it has no villains. The setting is an unnamed Wall Street investment firm in the final 24 hours before the economic collapse of 2008. Like David Mamet’s “Glengary Glen Ross,” none of the characters is presented as the bad guy. Not even Jeremy Irons’ slithery portrayal of the CEO qualifies as a depiction of evil, or even of “greed is good” as a corporate imperative. He and his employees simply do what the system requires of them -- the one percent -- with the only possible result being: the rest of us -- the 99 percent -- pay for it, literally, with lost homes, under-water mortgages and decimated pensions.
I make it sound like an anti-capitalist screed. It isn't. This isn't like watching Michael Moore with a bullhorn. “Margin Call” is a beautifully understated film that simply tells truths about Wall Street, and more precisely, what real investment firms actually did in the lead-up to 2008. It's an honest portrayal.
There is an extraordinary moment about halfway through the film when, in the wee hours before the markets open, everyone realizes that the ship is going down. Two top tier executives board an elevator, and there’s a cleaning lady in there with the tools of her trade. The executives flank her, and the woman stares wordlessly ahead as the one percenters continue the conversation that began before they got on the elevator. It’s as if, to them, she doesn’t even exist.
These people live in an insular world, cut off from the wreckage and human misery they leave behind. That’s about as close as “Margin Call” comes to beating you over the head with it. To his credit, director J.C. Chandor embraces “less is more” school of storytelling. No one is shot, or throws himself off a building or under a subway. There is no desperate, across-town race-against-time. No screaming matches. The entire film consists of people talking urgently to each other and occasionally staring in horror at a computer screen or spreadsheet. And it manages to be rip-roaring exciting.
Hollywood rarely makes films like this -- films that realistically and clearly depict the inner sanctums of high finance (not an easy topic to render visually) sans hyperbole and pulled punches. In fact, since the shit hit the fan nearly four years ago, this is the only one I’m aware of, excluding documentaries. Certainly, I’m unaware of any that played on more than 4,000 movie screens.
This review originally appeared on my blog on January 7, 2012.
