- You tell him, you tell him I'm coming. TELL HIM I'M FUCKING COMING!!
- That's easily the most intelligible line delivered by Wilson (Terence Stamp) in the entirety of The Limey, and it spells big trouble for record producer Terry Valentine (Peter Fonda). You see, Wilson's daughter Jenny (Melissa George) was dating Valentine when she died. The police said it was a car accident, but Wilson knows better. In fact, he knew Jenny was dead even before he got the letters from her friend Eddie (Luis Guzman). Although he was in a London prison at the time of his daughter's death, Wilson simultaneously "felt all the blood drain" out of his head, and he "knew something must have happened to Jenny." But now he's out of prison, and he's determined to find out what happened to his daughter.
- I'd say that determination is Wilson's defining quality. He enters the film to The Who's The Seeker, whose lyrics ("They call me the seeker; I've been searching low and high; I won't get to get what I'm after; Til the day I die") are the essence of Wilson's character. One could easily imagine that he got home from prison, read Eddie's letters, packed a bag, and got on the plane to California all in the same day. His all-consuming purpose in life is to find out who killed Jenny and to punish them. In that respect, he's a more attentive father now than he was when his daughter was alive. As he recounts to Jenny's friend Elaine (Lesley Ann Warren), Wilson's multiple prison stretches forced him to watch Jenny "grow up in increments." Despite that, he still remembers "every time he saw her," and wants nothing more than to avenge her death. "You and Terry Valentine at twenty paces?" Elaine queries. "I don't see why not," replies Wilson.
- Terry Valentine, on the other hand, is a less purposeful character. His current girlfriend, the celestial Adhara (Amelia Heinle), notes that Valentine is "more like a vibe" than a person. His life is basically a collection of 60's memorabilia, some of which helped make his fortune as a record producer. Unfortunately, his more recent source of income involves money laundering deals facilitated by his "security advisor," Avery (Barry Newman). It is at the site of one of these deals that Wilson shoots Valentine's smarmy business partners, sending his first message. Wilson delivers a second message to Valentine in the form of a dead bodyguard and even more bad publicity. Hoping to avoid a third message, the increasingly nervous Valentine authorizes Avery to hire two goons, the sardonic Stacy (Nicky Katt) and the unbalanced Uncle John (Joe Dallesandro), to kill Wilson. In another perfect marriage of song and personality, The Hollies describe Valentine: "He's King Midas with a curse; He's King Midas in reverse."
- Whereas a standard revenge picture would follow a fairly predictable trajectory, The Limey veers off in several interesting directions near the end. The first surprise arrives in an unmarked vehicle that interrupts Stacy and Uncle John's pursuit of Wilson. It turns out that Valentine has been under surveillance because, as interloping DEA Head Agent (Bill Duke) notes, they always "follow the money." This leads to an amusingly opaque soliloquy by Wilson that, surprisingly, results in tacit permission for Wilson to pursue Valentine. It turns out that the DEA doesn't always have time to do things the legal way. The second and more significant surprise arrives when Wilson finally confronts Valentine. After a thrilling nighttime invasion of the producer's resort in Big Sur, Wilson finally corners Valentine on the beach. There, the producer tells Wilson about Jenny, but it's a story that sounds all too familiar to the ex-con.
- I really can't heap enough praise upon this largely under-recognized film. The Limey is definitely one of the best and most memorable neo-noirs of the 90's. The direction, casting, and music are nearly perfect, and the cinematography (particularly at Big Sur) is gorgeous. All of the characters are wonderfully written and realized, and this is particularly true for Wilson and Valentine. Both men are crooks at a pretty fundamental level (prison has not reformed Wilson in the least), but they somehow manage simultaneously to be incredibly endearing. The non-chronological editing is also masterfully handled. Some of Wilson's thoughts are quickly realized while others, like his multiple shots at Valentine, are mere fantasy. The splicing in of old Terence Stamp footage was equally brilliant. Why use bad makeup and digital editing when you can tap into an accomplished actor's early career? Anyone who hasn't seen this film should definitely have a butcher. You know, butcher's hook? Look?
- The old footage of Terence Stamp is from a film called Poor Cow.
