Capital: it fails us now. I’m no fan of Foley as a director, and I think some of the deliberate noir-ish touches are laid on a little thick (Pacino’s bar monologue is swaddled in an overly atmospheric setting). But this film belongs to the cast, and Mamet, and it’s ruthless – not just for the dialogue, which is certainly memorable, but for it’s clinical and efficient unearthing of the bad side of contemporary business culture (I’ve worked in offices only slightly less cutthroat, and working it is far less entertaining than seeing it onscreen), and the trouble that financial nihilism can get us into. Spiky dialogue aside, this is about as drop-dead cold-blooded as morality plays get. Which is something we need on occasion.
