Actor Dominic Cooper is best known as the singing and dancing love interest in Mamma Mia, and will be popping up now on people’s radar as Marvel’s scientist Howard Stark in Captain America. But it will be his totally absorbing and alluring dual performance as one of the House of Saddam’s most evil members and his body double (‘fiday’) in Lee Tamahori’s (Die Another Day) The Devil’s Double that will place him firmly on the map. Cooper is a mesmerising chameleon of talent as ‘The Black Prince’ Uday Hussein and his unwilling servant Latif Yahia in this extraordinary real-life story adaptation, based on Yahia’s 2003 book of the same name, that switches between comic lunacy and terror.

In 1987, military man Latif Yahia (Cooper), a former classmate of Saddam’s eldest son Uday (also Cooper) with a strikingly similar appearance, is summoned to the Presidential Palace and told that he must become Uday’s body double, making public appearances in the guise of Uday whenever a dangerous situation calls for it. Yahia is forced to give up his identity, and undergo surgery, dental work and speech therapy to make his appearance identical. But the most chilling part of his new existence is having to witness the decadent and extremely sadistic ways of Uday while surviving 11 assassination attempts and hiding his daily disgust and true feelings for Uday’s mistress, Sarrab (Ludivine Sagnier).

The film hinges solely on Cooper’s performance, which shows him in his finest hour as leading man material and his commendable acting range. The details of Yahia’s experiences play out like a chilling gangster film pumped with testosterone that also has a lot of dark humour to it – Ali G-styled poster aside, simply because of the insanity of Uday’s out-of-control actions. Cooper admitted that both he and Tamahori’s primary concern was distinguishing between Uday and Latif – something neither needed to worry, and technically, even the eye-lines match most of the time.

As Latif, Cooper gives a quietly cautious, thoughtful and emotionally turbulent portrayal, realising the man’s inner frustrations and damaging demons as he tries to put on a proud and composed front in the face of adversity, and act the part of a tyrant he despises. The great forbidden love with Sagnier as Sarrab – herself nicely adding a spark of carefree mischief and joviality to proceedings – diffuses the anxiety and injects a perilously seductive and passionate element into the story.

As Uday, Cooper is like a highly volatile, petulant teenager, both pining for his despot father’s approval and loathing his very being for the treatment of him and his beloved mother. Cooper loosely swings back and forth between over-enthusiastic maniac and wounded animal each second on screen, always with a glint of the devil in his eye. The actor admitted that it was only after registering Uday’s feelings of being Saddam’s mistreated black sheep son and his great love for his mother that allowed him to get under the character’s skin to play him. Cooper’s personal struggle and determination to keep both characters separate is reflected in his meticulous portrayal of both.

Tamahori reels us into the lavish playboy lifestyle of the Husseins, like an 80s yuppie world full of flash cars, exclusive resorts, partying, drugs and beautiful women, while always keeping the tension brewing to allow things to ignite and explode at any moment, and keep us guessing the next step. There is a rich quality to the set design and over-saturation to the cinematography, deliberately reflecting the corruption and opulence of affairs, and a sense of urgency when needed created by the snappy editing process. In the horrifying moments the colour palette changes from a warm gold to a deathly chilling pale blue that works like an icy shot to the veins and poignant reminder of all those who needlessly perished at the hands of the Black Prince. The content of some scenes will sicken viewers, even though events have been played down, but the brutality is kept for full effect.

For those who remember the 80s first time around, there is also a cracking soundtrack, including the title music of Depeche Mode’s Personal Jesus to enjoy. Tamahori has chosen the obvious glamour of the gangster genre over a stark, Cinéma vérité style of a documentary account to remind us that this is an interpretation of a harrowing true story. Nevertheless it’s an all-together powerful and engaging account of solid acting prowess from Cooper, and both entertaining and distressing at any one time.

[Rating:4/5]