Domino

You can just picture those Hollywood executives rushing to sign off on the pitch: "True story of the English catwalk model who became an LA bounty hunter". And true though it is, what you see on screen is only loosely connected with the real-life Domino Harvey. (She died of a suspected overdose earlier this year, at the age of 35, apparently unhappy about the way the film had shaped up. Script approval wasn't part of the package when she sold the rights.)

Every frame bears the increasingly distinctive stamp of Tony Scott, who like his brother makes shallow but great-looking films. Domino takes the hyper-kinetic montage technique pioneered by Scott's earlier Man on Fire and runs with it. The film's disconnected, attention-deficited look instinctively taps the soul of postmodern America: fragmented, televised, intoxicated with its own possibilities. It's no wonder that Scott's beautifully ugly picture of Jerry Springer Land provoked intense dislike in the United States, and failed instantly at the box office.

But there was another reason for the film's failure. Within this remarkable story—of privileged life choosing low-life—Scott finds the right tone, but not the substance. Whatever was special about Domino's experience is passed over for facile soundbites, flash-frame storytelling and an outlandish action-movie plot. We shouldn't begrudge a top director the opportunity to stage yet another outrageous shootout; but not at the expense of something more interesting. In not trusting fully in his subject matter, Scott makes a serious mistake. However, at least Keira Knightley and Mickey Rourke were well-cast; and in a way, Scott makes a contribution to film language (as anyone who owns their own post house should), and that deserves some credit. (Note for Scott's next project: audiences prefer the truth.)