Mr. Moneybags
Danny Boyle counters sap with style, and shares the loot with kids, in Millions.

By Dave Kim


SACK OF CASH, HEART OF GOLD: Damian (Alex Etel) is a pint-size
variant of 'Trainspotting' protagonist Mark Renton in Danny
Boyle's junkie- and zombie-free 'Millions.' Photo by Giles Keyte.
DUFFEL BAGS FULL of cash seem to be a recurring problem in Danny Boyle's films, the cause of broken friendships and untimely exits, some healthy, some deadly. Shallow Grave (1994) sees three roomies repeatedly clawing and stabbing each other for a dead man's loot. In Trainspotting, a now mythic junkie named Mark Renton ditches his mates for an Adidas bag full of drug money. There's even a scene in 28 Days Later where the protagonist, wandering the empty streets of London, stuffs a plastic bag full of useless, unclaimed cash. Two lessons can be gleaned from Boyle's best work: One, stay the fuck away from drugs, viruses, and anything that comes in glass vials or syringes. And two, if you come across a big pile of dough, it almost certainly has an ugly story behind it.

The latter rule still applies in Boyle's latest feature, Millions, only its PG rating doesn't allow for the dismemberment, intravenous picnicking, and generally unhealthy (yet so deliciously intriguing) mayhem that often ensues in his other works. Instead the director ventures into territory any offbeat gallows humorist worth his or her reputation would write off as cinematic quicksand: a feel-good narrative – with kids. And he still manages to keep the trainspotters and auteur-chasers satisfied, this time with an impressive visual palette.

The film takes place in a quiet northern England town, far from the chaotic cityscapes we're used to seeing in Boyle's films. Despite the recent death of their mother, nine-year-old Anthony (Lewis McGibbon) and his seven-year-old brother, Damian (Alex Etel), are adjusting relatively well to their new life in this suburban community. Their father, Ronnie (James Nesbitt), works hard to support them, and whatever he can't provide they can easily obtain from storekeepers with a simple "My mum's dead."

Both kids are blessed in some way. Anthony is a wheeler-dealer, cunning and ever practical, who can gauge property values and economic trends in between PlayStation sessions. Damian's runaway imagination, mixed with an eclectic fascination with saints, lets him talk to holies like St. Francis and the pot-smoking Clare of Assisi, the patron saint of television.

As the boys get used to their new setting, a black bag full of cash literally lands on top of Damian and sets off a slew of complications. With the U.K.'s euro conversion (or "E-Day," as referenced in two hilarious, if tangential, TV commercials) only days away, the boys have to figure out what to do with the money before it becomes worthless. Anthony starts living the good life, while the refreshingly charitable Damian just wants to help as many poor people as he can without raising suspicion. Meanwhile, an ominous-looking stranger is in town, hunting for his missing share from an elaborate robbery.

Damian is the Renton (his good side) of Millions, our visual and narrative mediator given to lucid dreams and surprisingly perceptive critiques of modernity. It's through him that Boyle flexes his cinematic muscle, as he toys with supersaturated colors, erects imaginary houses, and deploys his signature jump cuts. Hinting perhaps at auteurdom, he nods toward a new digital expressionist movement in cinema, one using techniques like spatial mismatching, blaring colors and lighting intensified in postproduction, and circuitous camera movement (pardon the shop talk) that are less David Lynch and more Spike Jonze and Michel Gondry. It's a style that externalizes a character's sentiments through camerawork or seamless effects rather than performance, and only a few directors can pull it off without seeming overtly gimmicky.

In Millions, these detached, sometimes surreal visuals counter the awws the story will inevitably induce, as when Damian buys pizzas for the homeless or realizes his altruism has made him something of an oddball. In one sweeping shot, we look down at him entering room after room of his new house; frames and imaginary walls are breached as he tries to find comfort in his brother and father. Just when we feel the strings of sappy emotionalism being tugged, Boyle takes a step back and reminds us we're watching a movie. Consequently the director's transition from apocalyptic horror to Christmas-special material feels almost natural. Absent are the horror-movie trademarks and gritty vérité of 28 Days and the techno music-style cutting of Trainspotting, but the movie's tongue-in-cheek titles and aerial shots strategically placed in dramatic scenes are recognizable fingerprints. Also, Boyle's nimble pacing, though offset at times by Damian's leisurely innocence, is reminiscent of the thriller-movie rhythms in earlier works like Shallow Grave. It's as if the director were playing parts of a familiar tune – just in a different (PG-rated) key.

Playful aesthetics provide the film's strongest and most distinctive aspects, but the mostly conventional story of goodwill boasts its own off-kilter idiosyncrasies. Boyle is a master of subtlety when it comes to minor characters, from his socially inept police chief to his Mormons ("No, Latter Day Saints") with Eastern European accents. The only real oversight is the cartoonish villain, who gets his own 24-inspired theme music each time he makes an entrance. Millions is not without a few sappy moments, as nearly all films with serendipity and people-are-good themes at least occasionally allow. But a filmmaker with a résumé like Boyle's provides an appropriate balance, and you won't be embarrassed when you realize halfway through that you're beaming.

'Millions' opens Fri/18, Embarcadero Center Cinema, S.F.; Wed/23, Albany Twin, Albany, and Piedmont Theatre, Oakl. See Movie Clock, in Film listings, for show times.