Howard Marks was not your average drug dealer. The drug of his choice was hashish and he found a way of transporting tons of it, mostly from Pakistan, to the UK to sell at a great profit. He was finally apprehended by the Americans and sentenced to 25 years in clink.
Marks was let out early for being good and, still an avid weed-smoker, he is apparently pleased with Bernard Rose’s film about him. His own best-selling book has been slightly cauterised to make an audacious storyline — but if it is anywhere near the truth it’s a very good story, a kind of comedy-drama about a remarkable conman, with the moral that hashish does less harm than alcohol and ought to be legalised.
Marks is excellently played by Rhys Ifans, with whom he shares both Welshness and unpredictability. We start in small-town Wales, where the bullied young Marks fakes a temperature to be excused from rugby but is clever enough to gain a scholarship to Oxford. Here, he is introduced to hash.
He is also recruited as an MI6 informant, avoids prison twice and goes on the run with his wife, Judy (Chloë Sevigny, apparently an amalgam of two women in his life). With help from the IRA (David Thewlis plays Mad Dog McCann), he makes a fortune, using a dozen different names and adapting his considerable talents to hold down regular occupations in Spain. With the authorities drawing near, the film hinges — as a hundred others do — on his decision to do one last job.
It’s a fascinating tale, largely because it recalls a time when one man with charm, intelligence and the courage of his (lack of) convictions could outwit the authorities for so long. It is well directed by Rose, in a way that doesn’t leave you feeling it is too unreliable a witness. What prevents Mr Nice from catching alight more often is a surprisingly placid surface — the two-hour length of the film emphasises its lack of pacing. It is thoroughly entertaining but never delivers a coup de grâce.
Mr Nice
Cert: 18
