Trader

We learn very little about Kimberly-Sue Murray’s character during Trader. She likes telling herself that she is a free woman, thinking of herself as more than just a number. Every now and again she looks at the barcode tattooed on her arm. In different conversations, she implies different things about its origins. She tells one man that she used to be a sex worker. Perhaps it’s true, but we have no more reason to believe it than anything else she says. It is notable, however, that trading has something in common with sex work – the people who are good at them have a talent for telling people what they want to hear.

The trader demonstrates this talent in the very first scene of Corey Stanton’s taut little thriller, when she demonstrates that she’s a liar and that she has no concern for other people’s well-being, swindling a man with ADHD out of both his money and his prescription. In neurotypical people, that medication is a stimulant, one of several she will consume over the course of the film. Day trading requires concentration, physical alertness over lengthy periods, and an ability to eschew any sentiment. To be successful, one cannot afford to care about people or properties.

Normal people get attached easily. A study once demonstrated that when watching triangles ‘fight’ on a screen, people would become attached to one which they were told was their triangle, cheering if it won and complaining when they thought it had been treated unfairly. The trader is a sociopath. To her, other people have no more significance than random triangles. But she is our sociopath, and as she competes against others of her kind, Stanton invites us to root for her.

It’s an ugly game. People get hurt. As in other forms of gambling, the house always wins – unless one is lucky (and knows when to quit), or one cheats. Our trader is not a gambler. She’s looking for an opportunity, and she will stop at nothing to make the dice fall her way.

Though it has never been proven, interesting trading patterns have been observed ahead of events like the one central to this story, so it may very well be grounded in reality, even at its most extreme. As the narrative builds tension, Stanton complements it by taking a dynamic approach to the small basement set in which everything here is staged. With dramatic imagery created using make-up and different coloured lights, he uses complex choreography and layering to explore the trader’s solitary existence. She sits at her terminal, dances, fixes a drink, lifts weights. in between calls, the soundtrack pulses angrily. Mediated by the music, her behaviour sometimes comes to feel like ritual carried out in service of a mystical bond with the markets. In early Abrahamic theology, there is a close relationship between the patterns found in numbers and the form of God. The film is perhaps at its darkest when the trader prays.

Since Steven Yeun’s groundbreaking performance in 2018’s Burning, the traditional approach to playing , without emotion, has not been good enough. Not every actor can attain what he did, but Murray understands it. She presents us with an emotional being – and therefore a relatable on, at least some of the time. She gets frustrated. She gets angry. She hurts. it’s just that she has no real sense of anything beyond herself.

Around 2% of people in the UK have tried day trading. For half of them, it’s now a habit. This trader is a good example of what, at the top level, they are up against. It’s an interesting character study and an effective exercise in tension, though the real significance of the prize she’s after might call for a shot like the one at the end of Mike Nichols’ Working Girl. In the end, like most traders, she lives in the moment and only sees so far ahead. It’s an existence which is easily romanticised but likely to be short. Stanton invites us to indulge in vicarious thrills as his protagonist carries all the guilt and danger. To profit from it, you need to invest in the illusion.