Steven Soderbergh’s wickedly entertaining romp loosely based on the uncovering of the Panama Papers is an effective mixed wash of truth and fiction
Bow your heads in remembrance of Mossack Fonseca, the best law firm you never heard of, the world’s fourth largest provider of offshore financial services. For decades it operated quietly, diligently under the radar of public scrutiny, shepherding its anxious clients through a mystifying array of global tax evasion schemes until the release of the Panama Papers in 2016 metaphorically pissed on everyone’s chips. Next thing you know, the office has been raided, its directors are in jail and the golden age is over, or at least under audit.
Now the culprits are back to give their side of the story via the medium of Steven Soderbergh’s The Laundromat, a whip-smart, fiendishly entertaining contender at this year’s Venice film festival. As impersonated by Gary Oldman and Antonio Banderas, Jurgen Mossack and Ramon Fonseca amble about in posh tuxedos or brocaded smoking jackets, clutching dry martinis and speaking directly to camera. They could be obsequious waiters or mischievous performance artists, the Gilbert and George of disaster capitalism. They’re here to tell us all about “the secret life of money”, about futures and equities and the proliferation of shell companies that can be used to hide billions.