He had just got the heave-ho as superspy James Bond...his licence to chill. So the script of The Matador must have looked like a red rag to a bull for Pierce Brosnan when it dropped through his letterbox. He is magnificent as a past-his-best hitman. This time the name’s Noble, Julian Noble - and throughly enjoys giving the two-finger salute to his former alter-ego. He swaps suave 007 for Tom Selleck circa 1980 and pimp-friendly gold chains.
Like his most famous role, our (anti)hero likes a drink (margaritas, not martinis), and loves the ladies (but has the odd discretion with men too). Controversial. The similarities end when Noble gets weary of his jetset life and begins boozing big-time. He suddenly gains a conscience and starts missing his targets. This is the perfect post-Bond pep-up for Brosnan, why is probably why he grabbed the script by newcomer writer/director Richard Shepard and produced it himself. For an assassin, Noble is given an amazing depth by Brosnan’s genuinely poignant, yet hilarious performance. He gives the impression of a man on the brink of losing it but just managing to teether on the right side of sane. Noble hops from city to city, killing for money, sleeping with prostitutes and gradually sinking into a pit of despair.
He’s a hitman who discovers he has a heart, but he’s also a fiend without a friend in the world. That’s until he meets washed-up suburban businessman Danny Wright (the funny-faced Greg Kinnear) in a Mexican hotel bar.) They go to a bull fight and form an unlikely friendship. Noble teaches his new pal tricks of his trade, offers him marital advice and even tries to get him involved in an assassination. Sometimes Noble is as cringe-making as a mouthful of salt in a sweet margarita. ’’I hate Catholic countries, it’s all blushie, blushie and no suckie, fie, ’’ he complains while ogling teenage girls. But it’s thrilling to hear the former James Bond utter bad-boy lines like these: ’’I look like a Bangkok hooker on Sunday morning, after the navy’s left town.’’
The film is spurred along by regular tequila shots of comedy as well as a really cool soundtrack. The scene where Brosnan waltzes through the hotel in his Speedos to the pool, lager in his hand, is a classic. He even prances about with cheerleader pom poms. Without him, this film would be just OK, because it sometimes seems to suffer from an identity crisis over whether it’s trying to be a comedy or a thriller. And if you take a step back, the chances of Noble and Wright being friends are pretty unlikely...
Almost as unlikely as all those gay footballers ever deciding to come out of the closet. Hope Davis is funny as Wright’s right-on wife Bean, who finds her husband’s friendship with a paid killer bizarelly thrilling. ’’Aren’t we cosmopolitan letting an assassin stay the night!’’ she exclaims, all flushed with excitement. Yes, it’s raw and slightly bizarre picture, but it’s just so refreshingly out of the mould, I really loved it. He may have lost his 007 prefix but Brosnan still has a Licence To Thrill.