There is only one actor on screen for the vast majority of Nicolai Schumann’s thrilling debut feature, The Lonely Musketeer.
Not only that, but there are – aside from a couple of brief glimpses of the outside world through flashbacks – only four walls. This is a black-and-white, locked-room mystery in which the protagonist’s only companions are a retro mobile phone and his own thoughts. Reminiscent in its conceit to something like Steven Knight’s Locke or Rodrigo Cortes’ Buried, this a film in which the narrative plays out through telephone conversations while its star remains on screen, trapped in a confined location. References to Hitchcock are bound to be made, but this is a film as much about psychological imprisonment as the sly mechanics of the puzzle. Receiving their world premiere at Oldenburg Film Festival, both the film and Edward Hogg’s central turn deserve further exposure.
The Lonely Musketeer begins with Rupert (Hogg), a super-rich financial trader, waking up suddenly in a concrete box with no windows and doors. There is a crack in the wall high above Rupert’s head, which is letting light in, but otherwise there is no sign of an opening in the walls around him. He’s fully dressed in a dark business suit and white shirt and has an old mobile phone in his pocket. He initially believes this to be a prank by his best mates, Philip (voiced by Chris Kyriacou) and Mickey (Richard Glover), who collectively refer to themselves as “The Three Musketeers”. Quickly, Rupert discovers that this is no prank, and a desperate investigation takes place via a series of phone calls to unravel the events that led to his abduction. Others peopling the dialogues with him include a police inspector that he went to school with (Jennifer K Preston), his estranged wife (Angela Peters) and his secretary (Kate Berry).
At one stage an unknown caller rings Rupert’s phone and he begins an ongoing conversation with his abductor who begins to ask him questions about his past, assuring him that if he answers fully and honestly, he will be released. Thus, the reason for Rupert’s incarceration begins to reveal itself and the central conceit of Schumann’s impeccably taut screenplay starts to come fully into focus. Locked in this room, Rupert is being forced to confront himself. Through the snatches of conversations with schoolmates and his wife, his callous nature becomes evident. As the story of his entrapment becomes public knowledge, he learns it is being characterised in the media as “Scrooge trapped in a box.” It’s a more on-the-nose nickname than they realise, given his current situation being confronted by the ghosts of his own past. At one point he asks his secretary how she would describe him and, struggling for a compliment, she – to his evident heartbreak – describes him as “hard-working,” “ambitious” and “accurate.”
The impact of all of this is up to Edward Hogg to sell and boy, does he sell it. This is a bravura turn from the British actor who runs the gamut from the entitled millionaire throwing his weight around, even when locked in a concrete box, to the dejected man who realises his wife and son are slipping from his grasp and his fate is, unusually, outside his own control. Hogg is exceptional throughout, but particularly in moments of high tension. In one sequence, his friend Mickey is going to meet someone for information and something bad starts happening on the other end of the line. Hogg is framed in extreme close-up, his face tight and twitching with the escalating tension. It’s all the thrill of an action sequence confined to a man’s increasingly terrified visage.
Schumann and his cinematographer, Bruce Jackson, do an exceptional job throughout of keeping the camerawork interesting despite not just being a single location, but one with few distinguishing characteristics. Often they will punch in on Rupert’s face while he is on the phone, to allow the performance to shine, the intimacy emphasised by the 4:3 aspect ration. They also seem to enjoy the challenge of finding new ways to present the room, using the shifting light from the opening to bisect the space and sometimes pulling the camera back to reveal the room within a pitch black void. Hogg’s face is lit for maximum emotional impact and as the film continues there is almost a silent film expressionism to way that the interplay of lighting and make-up contort Rupert’s haggard physiognomy. His face become hollower, his eyes darker, as the true nature of his personality is gradually unearthed amidst the suggestions of his involvement in a brutal crime as a teenager.
What is perhaps most satisfying about The Lonely Musketeer when compared to similar films of its type, is the assurance with which it balances its detective mystery element and its psychological portrait. Both of these are satisfying riddles to see teased out over the course of the film’s brisk 97-minute runtime and it would be easy to imagine watching Edward Hogg’s fabulous performance for even longer. It’s a thriller in the truest sense of the word – bold, innately cinematic storytelling with a genuine payoff.
Director, screenplay: Nicolai Schumann
Cast: Edward Hogg, Richard Glover, Jennifer K Preston, Angela Peters
Producer: Addy Raja, Marc Scneider
Cinematography: Bruce Jackson
Editing: Top Tarasin
Music: Nilly Brook
Sound: John Mellor
Production design: Lillian Caccia
Production company: Addy Films, Alice’s Pig Productions (UK), Apiro Entertainment, Right Film Productions (Germany)
Venue: Oldenburg Film Festival
In English
97 minutes