A pro with the cons

Ridley Scott takes time off from his large-scale epics for this modest yet thoroughly enjoyable movie about con-artists. While his comedy of sting manners does not greatly expand the canon - recently added to by Nine Queens and Confidence - or bring anything new in the manner of David Mamet, it is pleasingly played and is spiced by sufficiently unusual elements to warrant more than passing attention.

Nicolas Cage is Roy, a con man who takes pride in his job of fleecing without recourse to violence or menace. His justification - to himself as well as to others - is that he doesn't "take" money, it is "given" to him by greedy people who believe they can make a swift (and illegal) profit.

Roy's partner in crime is Frank (Sam Rockwell) and the two men complement each other to perfection. Where Roy has "issues" from a broken marriage which has resulted in a severe case of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, with side-orders of agoraphobia and chain-smoking, Frank is a fast-talking slob with a crooked grin who is always short of money. They are the Felix and Oscar of confidence trickery, the Odd Couple of grift.

While attempting to locate a doctor who will prescribe him more of the pills he needs to keep his obsessional behaviour and manic tics at bay, Roy chances upon a friendly psychiatrist who talks him through his troubles.

Meanwhile, Frank encourages his partner to make their biggest score to date - a complicated exchange of money that will net them 10 times their customary profit. The game is afoot when a complication arrives in the shape of Roy's 14-year-old daughter, Angela (Alison Lohman) - a child that Roy never knew he had.

To reveal more would be to spoil a plot that hinges on a series of revelations and stings, many of which will prove no surprise to the alert viewer. But the joy of this movie lies less in the plot than in the interaction of its small cast and in Scott's framing of the actors.

Cage is in his element and seems more comfortable, convincing and likeable than he has for years. Twitching and burbling like a man suffering from a combination of Tourette's Syndrome and St Vitus Dance, he is as good as he was in Leaving Las Vegas and the underrated Vampire's Kiss.

He cleans and vacuums his spotless house like a maniac, regimenting his possessions with neurotic precision - and I haven't seen anyone smoke so compulsively in a movie since Elliott Gould in Robert Altman's Farewell My Lovely.

Rockwell's sleazy charm is also put to good use here, and young Alison Lohman has the precocious energy of an actress twice her age. As he did in Someone to Watch Over Me, Scott designs enormous spaces for his actors to work in: Roy's house is a vast area of gleaming, spotless surfaces between which he ricochets like a human pinball.

The stings happen in big public spaces such as airports and " gentlemen's" clubs. The sense derived from this placement is a world beyond the characters' control: of a vast urban sprawl of variables that can affect the schemes of these essentially smalltime crooks. Roy's condition - especially his fear of open spaces - is literally painted onto the screen.

As Scott's films go, this is a minor work: a chamber piece for three actors. But there are many discreet rewards. The dialogue is sharp and peppered with amusing stuff: when Angela tells Roy, "You don't seem like a bad guy," Roy replies, "That's what makes me good at it".

And the use of music is tantalisingly eccentric, ranging from Sinatra and Bobby Darin to, hilariously, George Formby.

Only a very confident Brit could have got away with I'm Leaning on a Lamppost in a Hollywood movie.

Matchstick Men
Cert: cert12A