LAYER CAKE

In Layer Cake, Daniel Craig is the anonymous anti-hero, XXX, a nameless London businessman who glows with pride at not considering himself a full member of the underworld, though it turns out his business involves trading in cocaine and opiates. Bold and volatile, XXX wants to retire and enjoy his money far away, preferably in Caribbean resorts, yet he still has a couple of outstanding favors to repay, plus a few of those offers you can't refuse. His ex-boss, Jimmy Price (Kenneth Cranham), urges him to track down the fugitive, drug-addicted daughter of fearful Temple (Michael Gambon). And, by the way, also to market one million Ecstasy pills, stolen by sleazy Duke (Jamie Foreman) from a murderous Serbian.
      

Colm Meany and George Harris are Gene and Morty, XXX's henchmen, who tender him the highest possible level of loyalty such low-lifes can be capable of. But all of them--from top to bottom of the criminal pyramid--get weak in the knees at the mere mention of Temple, an aristocratic Mafia mogul of omniscient power.    
    

Sound convoluted? I've seen the movie twice and doubly enjoyed it, but I still can't untangle most of the plot. Director Matthew Vaughn unquestioningly followed every twist of the screenplay J.J. Connolly wrote, based on his novel. According to Vaughn at the NBR Q&A, it helps to have read the book. I sincerely doubt it.  Vaughn produced Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch, directed by Guy Ritchie with careless, slam-bang bravado.  In Layer Cake, Vaughn displays both rigor and vigor; he holds things in check; cares about pacing, editing and framing. In fact, the movie is so stylish that the gangster's London digs, models of masculine elegance, were featured in the New York Times and phrase-coined as "machosexual."
      

Violence is heavy but never gratuitous, and this malevolent style perfectly suits Daniel Craig, who learned to project unctuous nastiness in Road to Perdition, yet could also ooze lyrical insidiousness as the poet Ted Hughes in Sylvia. Craig is now halfway between icons. He's either the new Steve McQueen or the next James Bond.

Grim whims inspire the pastry chefs of this capricious cake. No strawberry or vanilla required, just layer upon layer of film noir dark chocolate, with not meringue but sour cream holding it together. It is, nonetheless, succulent dessert for Craig. He seems to die at the end, but as he exhales his supposed last breath, don't hold yours. The inscrutable J.J. Connolly is already at work on the sequel.

                                 Rene Jordan