It has been said that desperate times call for desperate measures, a concept that director Stephen Frears explores to great success in "Dirty Pretty Things." Frears, whose previous films include "My Beautiful Laundrette" and "The Grifters," has a knack for getting inside his characters' minds and revealing their inner workings to his audience with heartfelt compassion. Such is the case again.
Chwetel Ojiofor plays Okwe, a Nigerian refugee in London who works two jobs. As a cabbie, he tells a potential fare, "I am here to rescue those who have been let down by the system," and he's not kidding. Shortly thereafter, we see him sharing his illegal identity with his fellow drivers, for they are all in the same precarious position of trying to earn enough to survive while evading the immigration authorities.
Also eluding the authorities is Senay (Audrey Tautou of last year's "Amelie"), a young Turkish woman who reluctantly shares her meager flat with Okwe in order to make ends meet on her equally meager and equally illegal salary as a chambermaid in the seedy Baltic Hotel. It is there one night that Okwe, in his second job as the hotel's concierge, comes upon what he believes is a human heart clogging the plumbing in a room previously used by a local prostitute (Sophie Okonedo). From here, the film's story takes off.
Okwe should know what a human heart looks like because, we learn, he was a doctor in Nigeria, a family man who was forced by circumstances to leave his daughter behind. Either out of the desire to suppress his feelings and memories, or the sincere need to keep working, Okwe stays awake with the help of an herbal leaf. In lieu of sleep, he plays chess with a friend, an Asian hospital custodian (Benedict Wong) who works in the morgue. It is through this relationship that Okwe gains access to the hospital's other resources, including the pharmaceuticals he provides to his fellow cabbies who are infected with gonorrhea.
Despite Okwe's efforts to keep his past identity secret, the scheming and manipulative Señor Juan (a deliciously nasty Sergi Lopez), the Baltic's unscrupulous manager, discovers the truth and presents Okwe with an offer too despicable for him to accept. It is only when Okwe discovers that Senay, now employed as a factory worker and hounded by the authorities and an abusive boss, has agreed to participate in Señor Juan's scheme, that Okwe agrees. To say more about the plot would unfairly reveal too much.
Working from Steven Knight's script, Frears choreographs a believable dance of growing love between Okwe and Senay. That their love is constrained by unspoken and (until the end) undisclosed extenuating circumstances does not diminish the power of the bond that is forged between them. Indeed, but for the connection they share, neither Okwe nor Senay might be able to muster the strength to hold fast to their dreams.
Their present exile as anonymous members of London's working class notwithstanding, Okwe and Senay do have dreams. For Senay, it is to go to New York where, she fantasizes, the trees are always lit up and the policemen ride white horses; for Okwe, it is to return to his native land. For both, the prospect of realizing such futures seems dismally bleak. Until, that is, they accept a sordid offer in exchange for cash and forged passports. (It is from a line of this offer's dialogue that the film takes its title.) In what is surely the film's most thrilling and surprising moment, Frears gives the viewer a splendid opportunity to cheer for the long-oppressed underdog, now empowered.
It is to the plight of these underdogs, these members of London's working class who are consigned to lives of quiet and anonymous desperation, that the film unglamorously dedicates its purpose, for they are the ones who comprise the city's human infrastructure, the unseen force that keeps its wheels turning. Frears approaches the material and his characters with an even emotional hand, neither turning them into pathetic caricatures nor heroic survivors. He presents them humanistically, against the backdrop of a London that is teeming with life and rife with grit, an underbelly of the city not often seen by American movie-goers. Cinematographer Chris Menges makes the most of his skills here, depicting London's seamier side without polish or frippery.
Although "Dirty Pretty Things" is successful as commentary, it is an equally entertaining, non-genre thriller. Despite its fetid environs, the film is a breath of rarified air. While those desperate to escape formulaic, franchise fare may want to shower afterwards, they will not be disappointed by any of the dirty, pretty things in this film.
Chwetel Ojiofor plays Okwe, a Nigerian refugee in London who works two jobs. As a cabbie, he tells a potential fare, "I am here to rescue those who have been let down by the system," and he's not kidding. Shortly thereafter, we see him sharing his illegal identity with his fellow drivers, for they are all in the same precarious position of trying to earn enough to survive while evading the immigration authorities.
Also eluding the authorities is Senay (Audrey Tautou of last year's "Amelie"), a young Turkish woman who reluctantly shares her meager flat with Okwe in order to make ends meet on her equally meager and equally illegal salary as a chambermaid in the seedy Baltic Hotel. It is there one night that Okwe, in his second job as the hotel's concierge, comes upon what he believes is a human heart clogging the plumbing in a room previously used by a local prostitute (Sophie Okonedo). From here, the film's story takes off.
Okwe should know what a human heart looks like because, we learn, he was a doctor in Nigeria, a family man who was forced by circumstances to leave his daughter behind. Either out of the desire to suppress his feelings and memories, or the sincere need to keep working, Okwe stays awake with the help of an herbal leaf. In lieu of sleep, he plays chess with a friend, an Asian hospital custodian (Benedict Wong) who works in the morgue. It is through this relationship that Okwe gains access to the hospital's other resources, including the pharmaceuticals he provides to his fellow cabbies who are infected with gonorrhea.
Despite Okwe's efforts to keep his past identity secret, the scheming and manipulative Señor Juan (a deliciously nasty Sergi Lopez), the Baltic's unscrupulous manager, discovers the truth and presents Okwe with an offer too despicable for him to accept. It is only when Okwe discovers that Senay, now employed as a factory worker and hounded by the authorities and an abusive boss, has agreed to participate in Señor Juan's scheme, that Okwe agrees. To say more about the plot would unfairly reveal too much.
Working from Steven Knight's script, Frears choreographs a believable dance of growing love between Okwe and Senay. That their love is constrained by unspoken and (until the end) undisclosed extenuating circumstances does not diminish the power of the bond that is forged between them. Indeed, but for the connection they share, neither Okwe nor Senay might be able to muster the strength to hold fast to their dreams.
Their present exile as anonymous members of London's working class notwithstanding, Okwe and Senay do have dreams. For Senay, it is to go to New York where, she fantasizes, the trees are always lit up and the policemen ride white horses; for Okwe, it is to return to his native land. For both, the prospect of realizing such futures seems dismally bleak. Until, that is, they accept a sordid offer in exchange for cash and forged passports. (It is from a line of this offer's dialogue that the film takes its title.) In what is surely the film's most thrilling and surprising moment, Frears gives the viewer a splendid opportunity to cheer for the long-oppressed underdog, now empowered.
It is to the plight of these underdogs, these members of London's working class who are consigned to lives of quiet and anonymous desperation, that the film unglamorously dedicates its purpose, for they are the ones who comprise the city's human infrastructure, the unseen force that keeps its wheels turning. Frears approaches the material and his characters with an even emotional hand, neither turning them into pathetic caricatures nor heroic survivors. He presents them humanistically, against the backdrop of a London that is teeming with life and rife with grit, an underbelly of the city not often seen by American movie-goers. Cinematographer Chris Menges makes the most of his skills here, depicting London's seamier side without polish or frippery.
Although "Dirty Pretty Things" is successful as commentary, it is an equally entertaining, non-genre thriller. Despite its fetid environs, the film is a breath of rarified air. While those desperate to escape formulaic, franchise fare may want to shower afterwards, they will not be disappointed by any of the dirty, pretty things in this film.