I said there’s nothing surprising about Domont’s work, but that’s not really true, not in any sense that matters. Just as in “Shayda,” also playing at Sundance and which I reviewed yesterday, what Domont seeks to do is help us understand power dynamics, misogyny, and how these play out in an arena where empathy is virtually nonexistent, and mistakes are not tolerated. But of all things, Domont brings us in to this world — bookends the film, really — at a wedding event where our two central characters, Emily and Luke (Phoebe Dynevor, Alden Ehrenreich), cannot keep their hands off each other. They get engaged almost by accident; Luke drops an engagement ring he bought her at a prior point as they are fooling around. They make a mess of themselves, and Luke helps Emily sneak out the back, not to embarrass themselves for the upcoming photo op. Emily can’t stop looking at her ring, and Luke seems the consummate gentleman. But appearances can be deceiving.
Dynevor and Ehrenreich Bring Astounding Acting
Domont builds her world well, carried on the back of the astounding acting Dynevor and Ehrenreich bring to the table. She lets us in to the offices of the hedge fund, as wannabe analysts vie for manager positions while hashing out the numbers. The managers sit behind glass doors which offer total transparency but no privacy. At the head of the company is Campbell (Eddie Marsan in a sardonic role) and his assistant (Rich Sommer). Firings are a common occurrence. In the film’s opening a manager is let go. He takes a golf club to his computer and desk before security escorts him out. Some in the firm laugh, and some tune it out to continue their presentation. It’s doubtful they even notice it, even more doubtful that if they do, that they even care. That this could soon be any of them is lost in a job racket that encourages apathy and cutthroat narcissism.
The pièce de résistance, of course, is when Campbell approaches Emily and offers her a promotion to fill a vacant spot at the company. It’s a big deal for her; she’s worked hard her whole life to get here. She was published in The Wall Street Journal at age 17, and is something of a prodigy. A night before her promotion, when she was sure Luke was in line for the job, they celebrated his good fortune and made love. But when we — and Luke — discover Emily got the job instead, things turn sour. He tells her he’s happy for her — of course he does. But his eyes and actions betray the obvious. He’s completely emasculated. His support toward Emily at first wanes, then turns to sabotage. It ultimately plunges to the lower echelons of jealousy, withdrawal, and nepenthe through alcohol abuse. Emily tries to help him, unable to see the reason for the rage seething behind his guarded speech. But it’s for not. Luke is the type of man who showers a woman with all kinds of affection and adoration, but then one day when she falls in love with another man calls the same woman he professed to love a whore.
Sexism is Ugly, and Domont Shows it
Domont’s great achievement is brining you into this world and allowing you to understand how it feels. The audience sees Luke’s descent into sexism and acrimony long before Emily does. But this isn’t because she’s naïve — she’s great at business and sees all the angles. It’s because she loves him, truly, and is a genuinely nice person. And Domont as writer paints their relationship as real. Their dialogues, their interactions… they all feel authentic, just like in the independent film “Evergreen” (which, if you haven’t seen, I highly recommend). As Luke becomes more withdrawn and sullen, Emily tries to balance her growing career. This includes hobnobbing with the firm’s higher ups, sidestepping Luke’s attempts at sabotage, and brushing off Campbell’s sexism. When she makes a mistake he calls her a “dumb fucking bitch.” (It’s purposive and not odd, I suppose, that no one talks to the men in the firm like that).
Of course, Domont is here asking us to understand and emphasize with Emily — and it’s not that hard to do. Her relationship with Luke spirals completely out of control, and while Domont takes some creative license, it’s all very believable. Questions helplessly rack his brain, questions like did she sleep her way to the top? There must be something about her rise I don’t understand… until, drunk one night, he spits out the inevitable “You stole my job!” and the shame of the whole thing is that Emily didn’t see it coming. As Luke becomes more and more unpredictable and mean, the audience will ask themselves why she bothers with him… why she tries to help him. See above: she really loves him.
A Relationship Film of the Highest Order
“Fair Play” is heightened by its score (courtesy of Brian McOmber) and its cinematography (by Menno Mans), both of which highlight the unraveling nature of Emily and Luke’s relationship. It’s easy to categorize this film as a simple sexism tale, of a man who can’t accept a woman’s success. But Domont goes deeper. I’d actually argue this is — despite its Wall Street trappings — a relationship film of the highest order. Dynevor and Ehrenreich invite us in and make us like them, and then drag us through a downfall that is hard to witness. Luke’s toxicity as the film progresses is sociopathic. And the film’s ending, featuring a showdown in their apartment, has the raw emotion of a woman shedding the gaslighting and saying enough is enough. It’s hard to watch, but necessary, and brings the film to close in a firm sense of traumatic finality.
“Fair Play” is just a great film. This isn’t “Boiler Room.” It isn’t “Wall Street.” This is not about money, but power. If you’ve ever wondered how sexism works in a relationship, Chloe Domont, through this film, has the answer. It’s hard to watch, visceral, and cuts deep. But it’s one of the most interesting films I’ve seen in some time, and explodes with the power of shrapnel and glass. If this is any indication of Domont’s future, I can’t wait to see what else she comes up with next.
“Fair Play” is currently playing at the Sundance Film Festival. The festival goes from January 19 – January 29. Join us for continual coverage.
