Two guilty pleasures lure me back to the movies – the desire to wolf down vast quantities of stale popcorn drenched in that fake butter they make by treating toxic waste with lethal doses of radiation, and the desire to eyeball (that is to say, to ball with my eyes) all those lovely leading ladies. When G-Max, Dealin’ Sooz, Frosty, and I went to the Mayan to see Nick Nolte in THE GOOD THIEF, your humble reviewer hit paydirt in both departments. The boy at the candy counter (who was actually a seasoned Native American man in his 40’s or 50’s) looked deep into my soul and drizzled my corn three times, once after he’d filled a third of the tub, once more after he’d filled two-thirds of the tub, and yet again after he’d carefully mounded the kernels high above the rim, so that when he was done, the tub looked like a gigantic butter-flavored snowcone. As for THE GOOD THIEF’s leading lady, Nutka Kukhianidze is just what the doctor ordered – one part helpless little girl, one part dazed doper, one part wanton sex kitten. Halfway through the movie she sighs and says, “Everybody wants a piece of me.” I looked around, and all the men in the theater were nodding their heads in agreement.

Nutka’s not the only guilty pleasure offered up by director Neil Jordan (best known for THE CRYING GAME) in his stylish remake of Jean-Pierre Melville’s classic 1955 film noir BOB LE FLAMBEUR. Consider the following:

The settings are the strip clubs, back alleys, racetracks, churches, and casinos of Nice, Cannes, and Monte Carlo, and the milieu is a heady blend of Arabic, French, and American pop cultures. Chris Menges’ cinematography bathes the viewer in the smoky blue shadows of seedy dives pulsating with Algerian music, in the shimmering deliquescence of neon lights melting into each other, in the blinding white dazzle of the Mediterranean sun at noon, and in the glitter and sparkle of the world’s most opulent gambling palaces. The lush visual ambiance is complemented by an inspired soundtrack that includes everything from Leonard Cohen to the Chemical Brothers. And the editing is jazzy too, with lightning-quick cuts and dozens of perfectly timed split-second freeze frames. THE GOOD THIEF may not be the best movie of the year, but hands down it’s the coolest.

For a heist flick to give us a full measure of pleasure, the crooks involved in the caper need to be eccentric and memorable characters. Jordan delivers the goods, assembling a bizarre human menagerie that includes but is not limited to Mark and Mike Polish (the creators of TWIN FALLS, IDAHO, an emotionally wrenching independent film that I heartily recommend) as an intensely creepy casino guard and his equally creepy identical twin, Emir Kustorica as a demented headbanger techie computer genius, Sarah Bridges as an arachnophobic transgendered bodybuilder with a chest and arms the size of the Incredible Hulk’s, and Ralph Fiennes as a vicious art dealer who threatens to turn Nolte’s face into something “definitely cubist.”

But Nolte’s face is already a work of art, a masterpiece of dissipation and decay. He peers out at the world from a mug that’s angular, dented, and sagging with incipient jowls and dewlaps. Tossing his shaggy mane of hair, pulling at his bedraggled clothing, walking with a stride that’s half lurch and half shamble, delivering his deadpan wisecracks in a hoarse, gravelly, croaking bark of a voice, sweating and shivering in heroin withdrawal, ripping up and tossing away 70,000 francs worth of losing win tickets, he appears to be – and really is – the battered ruin of a man who was once young and handsome – but a battered ruin who’s still holding one ace. He has the courage to face every setback, every failure and misfortune, with imperturbable composure and grace. In short, Nick Nolte’s portrayal of Bob Montagnet is a perfect embodiment of the ideal Hemingway hero. I won’t spoil the movie by telling you whether or not he succeeds in his attempt to steal a zillion bucks worth of famous paintings, but I will tell you that he steals every scene he’s in.