Colin Farrell pushes himself to his limits in sweaty Ballad of a Small Player

Ballad of a Small Player is an uncomfortable viewing experience that will have you worried for the health and wellbeing of leading man Colin Farrell given the ferocious levels of energy he throws at the film.

Quite frankly, it’s exhausting to watch – but also exhilarating in places if you have the stomach for its hedonism.

Based on Lawrence Osborne’s 2014 novel of the same name, Netflix’s Ballad of a Small Player follows Farrell’s debauched Lord Doyle as he starts to pay the price for living the high life in the glitz and glamour of Macao’s casinos and luxury hotels.

Despite his decadent suite and plush green velvet jacket, the spiffy aristocrat owes HK$354,000 (£34,057); he can’t even get a car outside his hotel anymore, let alone play in their casino, after the manager gives him a final deadline to settle his outstanding bill.

Ballad of a Small Player is the slow-motion car crash of everything finally catching up with him.

And despite the heap of trouble he’s already in, Doyle is still making terrible, non-sensical decisions, some of which will come back to haunt him (quite literally).

Directed by All Quiet on the Western Front and Conclave filmmaker Edward Berger, Ballad of a Small Player is an intriguing mix of high octane (and cortisol) thriller, cautionary tale, dark comedy and ghost story, a combination that doesn’t always balance out easily.

Doyle heads to one of the less high-flying casinos to play baccarat, which he promptly and roundly loses to a foul-mouthed player known as ‘Grandma’ (Deanie Ip) – but here he also encounters mysterious casino worker Dao Ming (Fala Chen), who offers him life-saving support at a crucial – rock bottom – moment.

But keeping the temperature close to boiling point at all times is Tilda Swinton’s Cynthia Blithe, an investigator in hot pursuit of Doyle as she follows his trail of desperation and destruction.

While she and Farrell share a dance scene that will no doubt become a favourite new addition in YouTube compilations, Swinton is otherwise rather wasted in an oddly caricature-ish part without the kind of depth that an Oscar winner of her capability could pull off in her sleep.

Chen also could have done with more substance to her role than that of Doyle’s guardian angel, although she does play Farrell’s foil well.

And while Alex Jennings is good value as one of Doyle’s sleazy gambling friends, this film firmly belongs to Colin Farrell, who expertly draws as much sympathy as he can from a character which, in less dedicated hands, could easily be dismissed as a worthless scoundrel.

Despite his sweaty, pencil-moustachioed upper lip, his crooked air and maddening behaviour, Farrell still miraculously makes you root for Doyle to somehow pull through.

His dedication to the manic nature of Ballad of a Small Player is jaw-dropping, performing every second on screen with an unmatched zeal cranked up to an 11 out of 10. I wonder if, near the end, we even touch on the territory of 12.

That could certainly be argued with a scene where Doyle gorges himself on lobster and chocolate cake only to throw it all up in an instance of the most eye-popping (and disgusting) excess.

Berger also matches Farrell’s frenetic energy with the film’s pace, capturing the bright lights of the Las Vegas of Asia alongside its dangerous underbelly, which rubs up against the traditions and spiritualism of its inhabitants.

But although Ballad of a Small Player sees Farrell provide a knockout performance as part of a wild and white-knuckle movie, it’s odd refusal to be quite one thing or the other risks allowing it stray closer to nothing.

Ballad of a Small Player screened at the BFI London Film Festival and is in UK cinemas now. It streams exclusively on Netflix from October 29.