Mona Lisa (1986)

Mona Lisa is special because it turns a grimy corner of London into something oddly intimate and heartbreakingly human, a neo-noir where the real suspense isn’t just danger but longing. Bob Hoskins gives a career-defining performance as a small-time crook whose tough-guy armor starts to crack, and Neil Jordan surrounds him with smoky streets, sharp moral shadows, and a romance that feels more like an ache than a conquest. The film’s pulse comes from its tenderness rubbing up against ruthlessness—every quiet conversation in a car seems to carry the weight of a whole city’s compromises. It’s not for everyone, especially if you’re put off by sex-trade subject matter and violence, but if you want a thriller with atmosphere, soul, and characters who linger in your mind, this one is worth the trip.

Mona Lisa is clearly aiming for a grimy, romantic neo-noir about a small-time crook stumbling into a world he doesn’t understand, and Neil Jordan gives it atmosphere to spare. The problem is that beneath the stylish London backstreets and brooding mood, the story can feel thinner than it wants to be, leaning on familiar noir beats rather than digging deep into them. If you’re expecting a tightly plotted crime thriller with big twists and momentum, you may find it more like a character study that occasionally pretends to be a suspense film. Still, Bob Hoskins brings bruised humanity and real vulnerability, and that performance alone may make it worth your time if you can handle the heavy subject matter around prostitution and exploitation.