Matchstick Men strikes a psychiatrical light amid the condo of a black comedy. Tourette’s syndrome. Obsessive-compulsive disorder. Agoraphobia. Imagine yourself acquiring all three of these dysfunctionalities. The open environment with its ever-growing human populous striking fear into your delicate mind. Visitors walking on your freshly vacuumed carpet with their filthy shoes on. Consuming tablets to appease the uncontrollable ticks and outbursts. Now imagine Nicolas Cage, portraying a successful con artist, reaching method level of acting by inhibiting these disorders, whilst occasionally initiating “Cage rage” mode at maximum potential. Sounds good, right? And that’s precisely why Scott’s offbeat dark comedy works wonderfully. It balances sentimentality with ferocious humour.
Roy, alongside his protégé Frank, operate fake lottery systems designed to commit fraudulent behaviour to susceptible customers. A simple yet effective money-making method. Everything is swell. That is until Roy accidentally destroys his last few appeasing tablets, unable to purchase anymore from his current dealer. The phobias resurface. “One, two, three...”, he opens the door. “Uno, dos, tres...”, he closes the door. “Ichi, ni, san...”, he locks the door. Rule of three, an incredibly relatable thought process that highlights the repeated actions taken by sufferers of OCD. Roy then discovers he has a fourteen-year-old daughter, and his once peaceful lifestyle is thrown into utter chaos, unable to balance “antiques” with parenting.
For the initial first act, Scott’s direction seemed scattershot. Indecisive focus between the con artistry, stray parenting and psychiatric analysis. Scenes edited by Dorn rarely lacked fluidity, likening its frantic behaviour to Roy’s chaotic mind. Zimmer’s usually competent score producing a breezy tone throughout, juxtaposing the character insight the Griffin’s screenplay incites. Then, Angela insists on her involvement with her father’s work. The direction gradually stabilising its frenetic aesthetic. Retro transition animations, one could simply locate in Microsoft PowerPoint, become embedded within conversations. Mathieson’s cinematography capturing the frenzied environment through Roy’s perspective. Scott seemingly found his level. Then, finally, the primary Pigeon drop con is executed. The thrills, comedic timing and dramatic endeavour, amalgamate to form a mind-blowing third act that unsurprisingly had me fooled also.
Once Scott had discovered the offbeat direction he wanted to undergo, the plan came together effortlessly. Rampantly engaging, and consistently hilarious. Mostly due to Cage’s outrageous performance. Had anyone else tackled the role of Roy, it could’ve been career suicide. Not Cage though. He uncovered that balance between empathy and hilarity. From impatiently queuing up for new tablets (“Cage rage” and all!), to constantly reminding visitors to remove their shoes. His nuances and subtle ticks remained impartial throughout, nearly crossing the figurative line of overacting (but not quite!). Rockwell, although slightly underused, provided dramatic prowess and narrative focus. Lohman, whilst initially came across as irritating with the outrageously invasive behaviour, settled in amongst the bigger performers. The conclusion? Well, you’ll either love it or loath it. Personally, it was effortlessly planned, emphasising the emotional vulnerability of Roy as a father figure.
Much like a match, Matchstick Men starts off cold, rigid and aesthetically displeasing. But once the flame is lit, the character-driven humour descends into a sparkling finale that is sure to entertain. Definitely one of Scott’s most underrated films within his canon.
