Dom Hemingway

Written by: Sam Henry Miller

There is something eerily Shakespearean about Dom Hemingway. Its protagonist is a profanely poetic, soliloquy-spitting incarnation of hubris, the supporting cast are no more than archetypal accompaniments — harlots, harlequins and muses — and even thunder ‘n lightning portents forthcoming doom. Whether The Tragedy comes, however, well, you’ll have to watch and see.

Dom Hemingway is a performance piece, featuring the eponymous protagonist embodied, in quite the method fashion, by Jude Law. Don’t expect, however, your typical sex-bomb Brit; in this role, Law violates just about every facet of sexual appeal. After an opening 3-minute monologue detailing the God-wrought impeccability of his pecker, Dom Hemingway, an imprisoned safe-cracker, learns he has been paroled. With a vendetta on fate, he sets out to redeem 12 years-worth of clink-destitution as fast and hard as possible.

Often when a film proves decidedly a ‘character study’, its value pivots fundamentally on one actor. This isolation is integral because it starkly contrasts the protagonist with their world and consequently bolsters the psychological details of their conflict (vs. man, nature or self). This is our first kindling of Shakespeareanism, as a character study can only flourish by limiting others to the confine of archetypal backboards. Hemingway treks trough a world of vain tropes which reflect essential character flaws that his narcissistic persona absolutely belies.

On Hemingway’s persona:  put George Clooney in a pot, fill it with a PCP reduction, boil it with heat captured from Kanye’s forehead (post-performance), strain with Donald Trump’s hairpiece and garnish with dander of Shatner. This would make up about 25% of Hemingway’s ego. Believe it or not, the film manages to make this man sympathetic—not only sympathetic but outright likable. Perhaps this is because such a profoundly inflated ego can only be a defense mechanism for such profoundly repressed emotional turmoil. We like Hemingway because behind the eyes of every outrageously offensive gesture or comment is a sincerely hard-done-by soul. This is in no small part attributable to Law’s talent; few — very few — actors can reveal such pain through pride via facial expression alone. Whoever cast Law as Hemingway did so at the risk of an entire film, and luck was their lady that night.

Luck, fate and irony happen to be some of film’s most pervasive themes, which, once again, happen to be quite Shakespearean. Hemingway is a narcissistic, foul (befouled) bastard yet, ironically, an honorable one. He only harms those who have harmed him, only desires that which he’s owed and, above all, wishes primarily to redeem lost time with those he loves. This may entail beating his late ex-wife’s lover to a bloody pulp but it also entails visiting her grave with his newly acquainted grandson, whom, to his initial chagrin, is black. He above all seeks forgiveness from his estranged daughter (played by Game of Throne’s Emilia Clarke [red-head edition]) of whom

despises him due to circumstances that are not entirely his fault, yet no amount of fate-loathing can revive this love lost. With a little time, effort and luck however…

Perhaps the last prominent Shakespearean trope of Dom Hemingway is “the hero with a tragic flaw”. Traditionally, if this fundamental flaw is not overcome through growth, the play is classified as a Tragedy. Suffice it to say, Hemingway has many flaws, but hubris in particular would be the classically Shakespearean one, and, as far as The Bard’s stories are concerned, this does not bode for a happy Act III. Then again, the narrative of Dom Hemingway is abundantly ironic, with luck at the rudder and a character earnest enough to perhaps sidestep fate.

Unfortunately, because the film is so focused on character study, it suffers critically in other areas. Where it invests most its energy is also where it leaves lack; a B-plot, purposeful shot composition, mise-en-scene symbolism—save that gargantuan baboon photo—and music are just a few examples of where luster is lacked. But for what the character study’s worth, it’s worth a pretty sixpence.