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On a humid morning in Macau, a vibrant phoenix adorned with more than 60,000 flowers emerges from a giant pink Fabergé egg. This proud bird basks in the attention of onlookers as it rotates on a jewel-studded stand to the victorious notes of clarions, then returning to its shell. Witnessing this display, you might believe lucky to have stumbled across it at exactly the right moment. Remain longer, however, and you would realize that hatching happens each 15 minutes religiously.

It is summer 2024, and Colin Farrell and Swinton are staying here while shooting Ballad of a Small Player, helmed by Edward Berger and adapted from the author’s gripping 2014 novel about ghosts, remorse, and gambling. Farrell portrays his character, an from Ireland thief who uses an British accent, uses the name Lord Doyle, and hides out at the Wynn Palace, where he clings to a risky life of drained luxury. Having escaped to Macau with a pilfered wealth, he passes his nights betting at baccarat, a high-risk game of luck as simple as a coin toss. Swinton is the gauche agent, also labouring under multiple personas (one minute she’s one name, then Cynthia), who has been hired to locate Reilly and retrieve the money.

The place is a real mind-bender. Kind of like residing inside that enormous ornamental egg.

But that “headfuck” comment could also refer to the city itself. After 400 years as a Portuguese outpost, this harbor town south of Guangzhou transitioned into a unique territory of China in 1999. Similar to Las Vegas, its gambling hub exudes an alluring air of tackiness. The main strip is lined with towering replicas of the Venetian bridge, the Parisian landmark and Big Ben. Parked outside the imitation Houses of Parliament is a iconic double-decker in which the footballer – or more precisely, his digital avatar – is yoo-hooing from the upper deck in his role as representative of the Londoner establishment. “Have you been inside?” the actress inquires excitedly. “There are guards doing jazz hands!”

Beyond the Glitz and Glamour: Serious Elements in a Dreamlike Setting

Despite what this might imply, the region, which has been little-seen in western cinema, is a more serious proposition than Las Vegas. Flashy live shows never really took off in this place, and its patrons are too focused to get sloshed. Waitstaff bring platters of the beverage or dairy, rather than mixed drinks, across the casino floors. Spirits of a another sort, however, are an essential part of the culture, as Ballad of a Small Player demonstrates. In one scene, the protagonist is denied entry after the staff reviews security video of his latest win and notices a apparition loitering nearby.

Osborne’s book likens one casino to a “Hans Christian Andersen enchanted castle conceived by a youngster with a feverish dream”. This is reflected in today’s location: the Rio, an abandoned ex- resort next to a store offering “coffee, greenery and home goods”. It has been dressed by the set decorator Jonathan Houlding to amplify its faded grandeur splendor: ostentatious chandeliers, reflective pillars with floral decals, archways parenthesised by tasselled, red curtains and potted plants.

Personas Existing in a World of Illusion

For his initial day on location, the writer Lawrence Osborne is wearing a brimless cap on the back of his head, and pincering about on supports after a crash in Bangkok, where he has resided since 2012. The author positions himself in a foldable seat and gazes admiringly at the abandoned casino, its card tables surrounded by background actors whom the director is actively stirring into a uproar before the next take. You hear a near-constant sound as the haze generator fills the room with its misty vapor.

This artificiality feels appropriate for a film where the majority of the characters are posing as another person. “People I used to meet in Macau would call themselves barons and counts,” says the writer. “No one questioned it. Such as Lord Stow, who marketed his egg tarts here. Did he actually hold a title?” He was not: Macau’s renowned pastry chef, who passed away in 2006, was a Boots chemist from Ilford in Essex.

Performance Insights and Artistic Inspirations

We watch a several shots of the lead taking the moving staircase down to the gaming floor, then weaving in and out the game areas as the extras whoop and holler around him. He is attired in tailored cream trousers, a striped top and braces, and a spiffy red jacket. The shifting red and green illumination has a clashing, conflicting effect, as if cautioning him to stop while encouraging him to go. The colors also introduce a touch of sci-fi into the ornate environment: a reminder that Wong Kar-wai filmed scenes of In the Mood for Love and its futuristic follow-up 2046 here.

The Brylcreemed hairstyle and thin mustache that affords the actor a hint of roguish, retro charm was modeled by a tradition of gentleman stars: the legend, Errol Flynn, David Niven. Did these informed his performance? “No,” the star explains to me. “But I realize that all I’ve watched or read or listened to unavoidably ends up in my work. Fans have questioned me about The Penguin and whether I was inspired by the actor in The Sopranos. I still have not watched The Sopranos! Yet I know that every gangster I’ve ever seen has found its cataloged way into what I created in The Penguin. Similarly with Reilly, be it characters with dependencies or persons leading existences of abject pretense.”

The actor’s past addictions are publicly known, though gambling was not one of them. Some of his understandings into the character’s psychology have stemmed from conversing to casino managers here. “One shared the casino was up $24m the prior evening from two gentlemen. I said: ‘I assume they were pretty downcast.’ He said: ‘Yes. But if they win, they feel just as bad.’”

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