The Gentlemen

Here in Britain we talk of something being ‘Marmite’ (it’s an odd and salty yeast extract spread) and ‘crucially’ whether you like it or hate it. Well, I’m not talking about ‘loving’ or ‘hating’ Ritchie’s films, but let’s be frank: he’s
not going to go down as one of the world’s greatest filmmakers, so you are either amused by Guy Ritchie’s schtick and enjoy it, or you find it increasingly irritating.

Me, I tend to like it, even though his various hits (and there have been one or two misses) are pretty much the same film over again. But then they say that ‘it’s not the joke, but the way you tell it’.

And Ritchie has patented an entertaining way of telling what, let’s again be frank, are nothing but shaggy dog stories.

It would be pointless to outline ‘the story’ of the film, because ‘the story’ is totally irrelevant. It’s how Ritchie tells ‘em which does the biz. And, oh well, I don’t doubt my credibility will now go down the pan, but I like how he tells ‘em.

His cast all turn in very entertaining performances, there are more than enough slick lines and turns of phrase to satisfy and it — as usual — rolls along nicely. The confusion is eventually sorted out. All you have to do is hang in there.

As for that cast, special mention should go to Hugh Grant who plays totally against type as a sleazy, gay, murky, East London hack who takes it into his head to try to blackmail Matthew McConaughey’s cannabis big shot, and who is not quite as clever as he thinks he is.

On websites such as IDMb user reviews will range from ‘10/10! This is brilliant, man’ that it’s ‘1/10 and that’s being kind! It’s complete trash’. It’s neither: it’s unpretentious, entertaining Ritchie fare. And, and as I say, you either go for it or you don’t. If you like his schtick, this is very much your bag so watch it. If you don’t, well, find something else to do.

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