Review: All the Money in the World

All the Money in the World (15)

USA 2017  133 mins  Dir: Ridley Scott  Cast: Michelle Williams, Christopher Plummer, Mark Wahlberg, Romain Duris, Charlie Plummer, Andrew Buchan

Ridley Scott might have had no choice but to replace Kevin Spacey with sprightly 88-year-old Christopher Plummer, not least to avoid a Twitter lynch mob backlash against his film. But this presents a whole new set of problems. Chief among these is the fact that the fine balance between the dramatis personae has been upset. Now all eyes are upon Plummer as, much as we try to resist the temptation, we look for the joins in the 22 scenes that were hastily reshot. And because we had the briefest of glimpses of Spacey in the original trailer, we can compare and contrast their approaches to the role of billionaire J. Paul Getty. Spacey’s performance seemed much colder and more dead-eyed, even though he was labouring beneath layers of aging make-up that seemed to immobilise his face. Plummer is at least the right age for the part and delivers a warmer, more nuanced Getty. So much so, in fact, that you begin to wonder whether you’re intended to feel sorry for the richest man in history, who refused to pay a trifling $17m ransom after his grandson was kidnapped.

Given all these behind-the-scenes shenanigans, the real surprise is that from its opening scene onwards All the Money in the World proves to be a hugely entertaining suspense thriller, in typically sleek, stylish and glossy Ridley Scott style. As it gently bleeds from monochrome to colour, we find carefree, shaggy-haired teenage hippy J. Paul Getty III (Charlie Plummer, no relation) gambolling through a lovingly recreated early ’70s Rome, sparring verbally with a couple of ladies of the night on the seedy side of town before being bundled into a van and driven away at speed. The film then doubles back on itself to deliver a brief primer on the source of grandpa Getty’s oil wealth. Neglected Getty Jr (Buchan) marries Gail Harris (Williams) and subsequently becomes one of the many toffs to crash and burn in hopeless junkiedom after falling into the Rolling Stones’ orbit (isn’t that a movie you’d love to see one day?). Having given up all financial claims in return for custody of her son after the couple’s divorce, Gail now finds herself virtually penniless. But, of course, the kidnappers know nothing of the dysfunctional Gettys and assume she has ready access to mountains of loot. Getty Sr. declines to play ball, announcing that he will pay precisely nothing for the boy’s safe return. Cue: the best ear-slicing sequence since Reservoir Dogs.

Michelle Williams has been justly lauded for her performance as the tenacious Gail, and in any other circumstances she’d have walked away with the film. But Plummer, amusingly fresh from playing Ebenezer Scrooge in The Man Who Invented Christmas, holds the attention not only because of his last-minute casting but also because David Scarpa’s script, adapted from John Pearson’s Painfully Rich: The Outrageous Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Heirs of J. Paul Getty, exploits audience fascination with, and repulsion by, extreme wealth and its corrosive effect on family relationships. This is a man who at once hopes to create a dynasty but also prefers the company of objects, because they’ll never let him down. The film also gets great mileage out of his miserliness, from installing a red telephone box in his British mansion for the use of guests to doing his own laundry in luxury hotels so he doesn’t have to pay for it. Supporting performances are strong too. Mark Wahlberg ditches his foul-mouthed ursine chum to take a low-key role as Getty’s ex-CIA fixer who becomes Gail’s ally, while the great French actor Romain Duris breathes life into what might otherwise have been a two-dimensional kidnapper-with-a-conscience character.

Incidentally, a closing caption reminds us that Getty’s art collection went on display in the Getty Museum and his family gave much of his wealth to charity. But oddly, it doesn’t mention what happened to John Paul Getty III, possibly because this was considered too much of a downer to end on. In fact, he never recovered from his ordeal, succumbing to drink and drug addiction and winding up as a quadriplegic just eight years later. He died seven years ago at the age of 54.