One of the less-frequently considered advantages of the cinematic medium is that, while the long lead time to produce a quality film (as opposed to Amy Fisher Long Island Lolita-type stuff) usually precludes covering a person or event while it is still timely in the public consciousness, when a factual subject is eventually broached, the result can prompt a pleasant "You know, I always wondered whatever happened to so-and-so" reaction. This entry from writer/director James Deardon (A Kiss Before Dying, and the script for Fatal Attraction), which was released to theaters abroad but debuted on Cinemax in the States, revives memory of Nick Leeson, the English commodities trader who in 1995, at the ripe young age of 28, brought down -- single-handedly, it seems -- the world's oldest commercial bank.

Leeson (played by Ewan McGregor, with his usual Trainspotting-Jedi wide-eyed gonzo boyishness) was basically an unpedigreed yob who hoped to parlay a remote posting in Singapore, the company's laissez-faire management style, and what he hoped were good gambler's instincts into a killer rep. His employer, Baring's, wanted a piece of the lucrative Asian commodities market. But they didn't want to spend a lot of money on it, so they sent in a relatively unproven, hungry, peon, told him to hire a team of cheap, inexperienced locals, and unwisely turned him loose in the Carrollian environment of futures, cybercash and virtual money.

Leeson quickly learned to mask day-to-day losses with creative bookkeeping, made all the easier by being half a world away from his employers. When things went bad, he covered by "robbing Peter to pay Paul, and hopefully ending up making enough money to pay Peter back before he found out." It worked for a while, and since Baring's thought they were making big bucks, they encouraged him with bonuses and more autonomy. But like any other gambler, especially one bankrolled by somebody else, he eventually got caught short…at which time he'd shuffle more phantom funds, forge a fax here, skip an audit there, play double-or-nothing again, and before you could say "Ameritrade," the stately old bank that financed the Louisiana Purchase 200 years ago found itself in the hole for an unsecured $1.4 billion. Leeson finally bolted, overnight becoming an international fugitive whose picture graced everything from Le Monde to Prairie Farmer. He was worse than a murderer or terrorist; he was a careless broker.

Based on his autobiography, Rogue Trader effectively captures the insanity of what some call "a whole new way of making money," but is in reality little more than a global check-floating scheme. McGregor brings home the panic of someone who daily was losing money in amounts requiring more digits to write out than any normal person would ever use unless it was for a Chemistry 101 question about Avogadro's number. It falls short, however, in believably explaining its main character's motivations. Leeson is portrayed as a workaholic, an ambitious but loving husband, and a decent boss who initially got into trouble because he was covering an employee's mistake -- somebody bought when she should have sold -- and never pocketed any of the funds he was juggling. That he took such ungodly liberties was the fault of his employer for not keeping closer tabs on him.

Maybe it was that straightforward. Maybe it's simply beyond the ken of a mere semi-professional film critic, who still can't fathom spending $10,000 on a new car, to imagine people throwing around that kind of money. But I can't help thinking Nick Leeson wound up in a Singapore prison simply because he was greedy. C

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