As I practice noticing and feeling appreciative toward the small things in life, I’ve watched two amazing movies just days apart that evoked a deep feeling in me—one worth putting down in words.
From Macau’s neon lights to a paper factory’s cold halls, these 2 movies reveal what middle age really feels like.
In the end, I’ll share my verdict on which one I prefer and why. But for now, let’s see what Colin Farrell and Lee Byung-hun—those ’70s actors—have done to make Ballad of a Small Player and No Other Choice unmissable sagas about lost middle-aged men in today’s world.
Ballad of a Small Player
Ballad of a Small Player follows a beaten British gambling addict who calls himself Lord Doyle, chasing his gigantic last win in the colorfully lit city of Macau, where people and spirits mingle in the Month of the Dead.
No Other Choice
Meanwhile, also set in Asia, No Other Choice depicts the return journey of Mansu, a mid-level manager at a local paper factory who loses his job unexpectedly due to an American takeover. Left with “no other choice,” he hunts and eliminates his rival competitor for a new job to secure his family’s well-being.
Both Stories Begin with Fragile Identities
For both stories, it all begins with a gained or assumed identity, which turns out to be so fragile that once lost, it leaves our protagonists devastated—pushing them to wicked solutions that ultimately follow the path of their chosen identity.
The Identities We Pick
In a blink, I am no longer the high schooler my mom took to school and my dad forgot to pick up, always the object of comparison my younger brother deeply resented. Just like that, Lord Doyle wakes up in a hotel room—so magnificent yet messy—rushing out as if someone is chasing him. In fact, the hotelier is hunting him down to ask for a pending payment he has been avoiding.
It is not cheap to live a “Lord” life for someone whose profession is unclear, running from debts at home. Living off his luck at the game table is the only thing that keeps him going from one day to the next, while trying to reclaim his “Lord” status.
The movie is so brightly lit that we sometimes forget how dark Doyle’s life truly is. In contrast, No Other Choice only shows brightness at the beginning, when Mansu and his family enjoy a Sunday in their huge villa, barbecuing the gifted eel set from the American boss—not knowing it is a farewell offering for laying him off.
For Mansu, “Paperman,” and for Brendan (Doyle), “Lord,” are the identities they adopt—anchors signaling “you are okay.” Take them away, and their lives collapse, pushing them deep down the rabbit hole.
Seeing It All Taken Away
At first, it seems manageable. Mansu feels confident going to interviews with years of experience on his back; being a Paperman must mean something in the market.
Lord Doyle jumps from one casino to another, touring Macau like the back of his hand, leveraging the assumed power of the Golden Glove—a status signaling the part of him that never felt short.
One by one, Mansu sees his wife’s tennis lessons canceled, the dogs gone, even the Netflix account revoked. Reality hits hard.
Doyle quickly realizes no casino welcomes him except the Rainbow, where he borrows some credit from a mysterious lady, Dao-ming, despite his streak of bad luck.
When it rains, it pours: Mansu suffers from a weird and annoying toothache that torments him even further, frustrating him as if life were not already miserable enough.
Doyle, sneaking into a hotel at night like a thief, discovers that not only the hotel staff but also his UK creditor has arrived to demand payment.
In life, when you need help most, it often comes mysteriously. For Mansu, his encounter with Sun Chul, the new manager at a rival paper company, gives hope for a secure future and a path to become Sun Chul’s colleague. For Brendan, the loanshark Dao-ming becomes both his muse and his savior, telling him in a dream about a treasure to finance his final bid back to life.
The Path to Fight Back
Funny enough, both Brendan and Mansu share a common attachment: their glove. Doyle uses it to play cards; Mansu takes pride in his gardening hobby using gloves. With their favorite tools—the uniform and the glove—they are determined to reclaim their lives.
The glove gives them power, fuels their identity, and provides the confidence they desperately need. It helps them focus and finish their tasks, however crazy the path may be.
When Mansu finishes the second target, he buries him in the garden under an apple tree. For the final target, similarly, he digs a hole and chokes the poor man to death.
For a moment, I feel sorry for Doyle. All he has is himself, alone in an alien world he calls his second home, where they call him Gweilo, a slang term for foreigner—or literally, “ghost man.”
For Mansu, his family is with him all the way, providing support and companionship, for better or worse.
The Outcome
Finally, after all mishaps, with money loaned to him by Dao-ming, Doyle wins big and faces the unexpected emptiness of his victory.
Mansu, with a tablet in hand, walks like a tiny dot in a giant paper factory that once housed his entire crew. A baton in his hand, he pokes to check quality, but now robots run the factory, leaving him in a stark, humanless space.
The Verdict
Both movies are perfect for a date night—flicks that speak to you, about you. They are not competitors; you should enjoy both.
For my taste, however, I choose Ballad of a Small Player. Colin Farrell’s top-notch acting, portraying a man who has lost it and finally finds redemption, speaks to a part of me I’ve only recently come to embrace. The cinematography brings Macau to life—vivid, dreamy, and powerful, like watching La La Land as a thriller.
One Asian story played by a Westerner, one American story adapted by a Korean director and cast—both are amazing examples of human stories transcending region.
