On the Couch

This week, Peter Madden reviews Mr Nice.

Mr Nice
***
Directed by: Bernard Rose
Starring: Rhys Ifans, Chloë Sevigny, Crispin Glover, David Thewlis
There’s a story Rhys Ifans tells about being fitted for his costume for a role in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
The Welsh actor was in Spain at the time, filming Howard Marks biopic Mr Nice, when his friend and notorious former marajuana smuggler happened upon the fitting.
The raconteur, former Oxford scholar and man who was at one time single-handedly responsible for the movement of nearly 10% of the entire world’s supply of marijuana, introduced himself to the Potter film representatives as, “Howard Marks, hairy pot-head”.
It’s the sort of wit that the Welsh former drug dealer has become famous for and the reason that despite his life of crime and alleged association with members of certain paramilitary organisations, he is a figure dear to many and fondly regarded by nearly all who chance to meet him.
Even his ex-wives still have time for him and his children, whose childhoods he missed large chunks of and often caused upheaval in due to criminal goings-on, still love their dad. He’s just that sort of bloke. A nice guy, kind of like a stoner Stephen Fry. With longer hair and less tweed.
Mr Nice, based on Marks’ autobiography of the same name, traces Marks’ life from growing up a precociously smart young man in an uninspiring armpit of Wales to his scholarship to Oxford (he a had a flair for maths) and then on into the world of smuggling and then prison.
With the early portion of the film shot in grainy, old fashioned black and white the story bursts into colour (literally) once Howard is introduced to the world of recreational drugs, marijuana in particular, during his first year in college.
After an initially rocky relationship with the weed – there are cops, recriminations, a spell as a teacher and a failed marriage involved – he falls into doing a favour for a friend that sees him transport a load of drugs from Germany and then sell it for his Afghan suppliers.
He takes to the task like a duck to water and, from humble beginnings, puts his considerable intellect and wit to the task of devising imaginative ways to import larger and larger quantities of hash into the UK and then America, along the way acquiring the association of Jim McGann, a member of the IRA amongst others.
It’s all entertaining, knockabout fun occasionally punctuated with a few problems, either domestic or legal, but nothing Marks can’t cope with through a combination of charm, brains and, in some cases, dumb good luck.
In many ways it’s like Blow, starring Johnny Depp, another tale of a rapscallion who has a flair for moving illegal substances around the world. Unlike Marks, though, Depp’s character, George Jung, suffers some serious repercussions for his actions and the film as a whole carries greater weight and provides a more satisfying story arc as a result.
The lack of a satisfying arc isn’t entirely Mr Nice’s fault, however. If anything it’s being faithful to Marks’ story that robs it
of a healthy Hollywood dose of punishment, remorse and rehabilitation. Instead, he gets caught, does his time and then does the sensible thing and cuts his losses and runs.
No tears, drama or overt gnashing of teeth. He just rides his wave of charm off to pastures new including public speaking engagements which is a device used to bookend the film – Marks tells us his story as he tells it to a packed auditorium.
The cast is packed with good actors including David Thewlis who plays Jim McGann manic aplomb and Chloë Sevigny as his second wife, Judy.
A small irritation, which may only be relevant to anyone who has seen Marks in person, is that the Welsh man is actually far more interesting to look at, nay handsome, than Ifans. It’s a small thing but in a case like this where the truth, you suspect, would far more interesting than the version told here.
But, in the end, it is an awfuly Nice story.