The Laundromat

That Clinking, Clanking Sound
or 
And the People All Said 'Sit Down. Sit Down, You're Rocking the Boat'

Steve Soderbergh has been experimenting with the ways of getting films distributed for years—he's worked out the mechanics of film-making (he does the cinematography and the editing himself, by and large), but the distribution has always been a challenge. Distribution means can affect what sort of movie gets made and how a good movie can be altered in order to maximize the investment. Sometimes it can alter it to the point where the mere vestige of the film's intent will make it onto the screen, as distribution will determine how much the money the film will make back to its investors.

It's a big deal, and Soderbergh, who has been careening from serious movies to fluff, has experimented with all sorts of distribution models. This is his first film for Netflix, and it worked out with a kind of serendipity. It involves Meryl Streep. And Mike Nichols.

Nichols had a close relationship with Soderbergh—the two frequently paired up to do commentaries for Nichols' films for DVD—and, before he died, Nichols suggested that Streep work with Soderbergh on a project, as she might find it a rewarding job. This project, The Laundromat, an exploration of shell corporations and the revelations that came from The Panama Papers leaks had been in the works for a few years, and when Streep signed on to star, it attracted the attention of Netflix—it seems they didn't have a lot of Streep's films in its collection. Voila! Netflix put up the money (theoretically).

The Laundromat is almost a perfect film for a streaming service like Netflix, as opposed to theater distribution. Not unlike the Coen Brothers' The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, it is not a star-driven story (and nobody wears a symbol on their chest) but a theme-based anthology, in this case revolving around the true "trickle-down" from a diversified and increasingly speculative economy. That subject won't beat a path to any multi-plex, but Soderbergh and his screenwriter Scott Z. Burns (Contagion, The Informant!, The Bourne Ultimatum) do a fairly comprehensive (and episodic) breakdown of what the issues are, demonstrations of the dangers of these issues, and consequences—the true "tickle-down"—to those who can't afford shells, shills, and hedge strategies to preserve the money but are still affected by them, nonetheless.

As such, it's a better film in both presentation and explanation than the lauded The Big Short, and it's as encompassing and cautionary as Soderbergh's extraordinary (and extraordinarily prescient) film, Contagion.

The Laundromat begins cheekily with a "Dawn of Man" sequence, ala 2001: A Space Odyssey and introduces us to its two most important characters, the narrators, Jürgen Mossack (played by Gary Oldman) and Ramón Fonseca (played by Antonio Banderas) of the now-defunct (but real, true-life) company Mossack Fonseca*, self-described as "white gloves—we keep hands from getting dirty." In this opening, they describe the history of money—while helping—and making life difficult—for some anonymous cave-men, their eyes masked by digital black bars. The introduction is simple and whimsical:

Ramón Fonseca: First of all, there are some things you should know before we begin.
Jürgen Mossack: For instance, we are real people, just like you.
Ramón Fonseca: Secondly, we did not write a word of this. To be perfectly frank, we would have preferred all of this remain a secret.
Jürgen Mossack: But we had no choice in the matter. We just woke up one day and everything changed.
Ramón Fonseca: There were stories about us everywhere: TV, newspapers, and the internet.
Jürgen Mossack: And now it is our turn to tell a few stories. Think of them as fairy tales that actually happened.
Ramón Fonseca:  Don't worry, these stories are not just about us. They're also about you.
Jürgen Mossack: And how is that possible? 
Ramón Fonseca: Because all these stories are about money.
Jürgen Mossack: The idea of money. The necessity of money. The secret life of money.
Ramón Fonseca:  Before money, there was only the barter system. You tried to trade what you had or what you could do for what you needed. You have bananas, but you need a cow. I have a cow, but I hate bananas, so, as you can imagine, there are limits to this system. Bananas turn brown over time and cows can, you know wander away. So, an agreed-upon medium of exchange was needed.
Jurgen Mossack: What is a medium of exchange? Well, it could be a nugget of gold. Or some other shiny rocks that are generally found to be scarce. It could be a...a slip of paper...with words on it...or pictures of powerful people. And if you read those words, you will see that they are arranged into a promise of value.
Ramón Fonseca: Slips of paper...which you cannot peel and eat or do not give milk...are what we all agreed to call "money." And these slips gave birth to many other pieces of paper with more writing on them.
Jürgen Mossack: And some of those words, they told the story of credit.
Ramón Fonseca: Oh...stay with us now. This is important.
Jürgen Mossack: Credit is an invention that meant you no longer needed to carry around, uh, millions of bananas on slips of paper.
Ramón Fonseca: So you now have something invisible, credit, standing in for something intangible, a cow.
Jürgen Mossack: Credit said that even if you didn't have all the bananas you need for what you want, you could borrow bananas...from the future.
Ramón Fonseca: So, credit is just the future tense of the language of money.
Jürgen Mossack: Speaking of the future...
Ramón Fonseca: Things have gotten a little more complicated. Actually, a LOT more complicated.
Jürgen Mossack: There is more money than ever before!
Ramón Fonseca: Our money has more names than ever before.
Jürgen Mossack: Commodities, loans, stocks and bonds. Funds and funds of funds.
Ramón Fonseca: Futures, equity, derivatives, securitized debt, shorts and margin calls. Financial instruments.
Jürgen Mossack: Words. Invisible. Abstract. Very different from cows.

That is a fun little primer on money—that, essentially, it does not exist. It is merely an agreement of value, and it has nothing to do with reality. Like the price of gold or platinum, the cost of a Rembrandt, the cost of a fake Rembrandt, or the salary of a CEO. Words. Promises. Abstract. The film is broken down into chapters sub-headed by financial "secrets" which have relations to the segment that follows, be it part of the main story of Ellen Martin (Streep's character) or short tales that might have some basis in true events or not.  

Secret 1: The Meek Get Screwed: Ellen Martin (Streep) and her husband (James Cromwell) meet friends for a little boat-cruise that ends up in disaster when the boat flips and her husband is killed. There is no insurance because the company insuring the excursion company has been resold to a foreign company based out of the island of Nevis in the Caribbean and is a trust held by Mossack Fonseca. The money cannot be touched.
Secret 2: It's Just Shells: Ellen relocates to Las Vegas where she has bought a condominium that overlooks the spot where she and her husband first met. But, her real estate agent (Sharon Stone) tells her the deal's off, even though papers were signed. Russian investors have paid double in cash for the property. Ellen goes to confront the managers of the company in Nevis, but, instead, finds only a post office box. She runs into the MF trust manager (Jeffrey Wright), who pretends not to speak English, but is planning to fly to Miami. 
Secret 3: Tell a Friend: When a trust-fund gets in trouble, it merely moves its assets to a more friendly nation for its benefit.

Secret 4: Bribery 101: Charles (Nonso Anozie) is an African billionaire who makes the mistake of having an affair with the friend of his college-age daughter, who finds out and threatens to tell her mother. To keep her silent about it, Charles offers her shares in one of his investment companies worth $20 billion, which she eventually finds out is worthless because it is only a shell company. When we see Mossack and Fonseco again, they'll reveal that shell corporations aren't illegal—tax evasion is a crime, but tax avoidance isn't and that everyone has shell corporations, and that The Laundromat's director has five of them (and even the writer has one).

Secret 5: Making a Killing: Based on a true incident, a Mossack functionary, Maywood (Matthias Schoenarts) tries to put pressure on a Chinese woman (Rosalind Chao) to maintain a laundering interest through his company, but for larger fees and winds up being poisoned by her for his trouble.

What is brilliant about The Laundromat is the emphasis and power of money's abstract properties. Yes, they may be only a promise of value, but that will still break down (I would say "trump" but I won't go for the cheap laugh) things that are more substantial, like law, contractual obligations, family loyalty, or the value of a human life (money, to no one's surprise, is more valuable). No wonder we've got billionaires—in their gilt-edged ivory towers—who, at the end of the day...or their lives...have merely acquired money "to hide behind" (in the film's phrase), and sold out any grip of reality. Money is more reliable than bimbo-wives, bratty irresponsible kids, and failing organs, particularly maxed-out livers and shriveled, atrophied hearts. The illusion of money is power, and, without it, you're just another human.

Can't have that.

And if you want power, then it's nothing without having people without it. Sen. Barry Goldwater (conservative Republican from Arizona) was asked after Watergate what would prevent another one. His answer was blunt: "Stop printing money." Damn right. The Laundromat ends with the words of the whistle-blower who leaked the Panama Papers intoned by three characters played by the same actor, ripping away artifice to get to reality and they make the leap that the only way to get rid of the problem is by campaign finance reform...because the guys allowing the problem and the fleecing of America are the ones taking bribes from the fleecers. They have the power to do it, but concede that power to the guys with bucks and the means to hide it for them. The bucks stop with them, and there the "trickle-down" stops.

* The two men and their company did exist and did extensive interviews with screenwriter Burns, but days before the film was to appear on Netflix, they issued a cease and desist to stop the film or they would sue. Netflix dismissed the threat as "laughable."