It is a simple picture on the surface, but with a seemingly unending depth. Kane, tense, uneasy, blurred from his nervous glance, looks upon what can only be described as an enigma- a figure that is simultaneously Buddha and Thor- a troll-like creature of the flesh - a manifestation of physicality.
The king of the material world that Kane strives and struggles to dominate looks back - almost, but not quite directly, with a complex, royal gaze, his mouth slightly ajar.
The majesty of this photograph lies here - this expression, much like Da Vinci's timeless Mona Lisa, seems to shift and morph with the viewer's mind. In one viewing, a slight smirk can be seen, in others this is a curled lip of disgust. But the expression is always capricious, and intimately subtle. Is Tango admonishing Harry for having failed to score a "facking goal"? Flanked on each side by equally complex characters, the scene almost resembles a royal judgement or a court trial, with the king sat in judgement, perched physically and spiritually above the nervous subject. Is this a ceremonial approval? Does Tango here bless the England captain with his boon? This ambiguity is the burning soul of the photograph that will never be snuffed out.
The framing and composition are sublime; the artist clearly and boldly ignoring the traditional rule of thirds and placing the two most important subjects into the middle of the piece in an idiosyncratic, quasi-naïve, almost Wes Anderson-esque fashion, creating an otherworldly, storybook-like feeling that enhances the drama inherent to the events at hand. The use of a zoom lens allows for the distant subjects to simultaneously appear unnaturally close, as if this meeting is occurring somewhere other than physical space. The choice to omit the face of Harry Kane too amplifies and elevates the mystery of the footballer's audience with Tango.