Review: RocknRolla

Portrait of a Serial Teller

One almost fells bad for Guy Ritchie now. The sympathy really isn't for his recent divorce from Madonna (or her directorial debut offering "competition" for this film), but it's actually for when he married the pop star in the first place. Ritchie's career started on very high notes when his skewering of British gangster movies hit the scenes with Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch. But when the two tied the knot eight years ago, his reputation seemed to have suffered, as the titles Swept Away and Mr. Madonna seem to prove (though his short film in the series of online BMW commercials that starred Clive Owen was admittedly fun). Many might want to say that this is a great return for Ritchie, but I saw it as an overloaded film that still manages to pull you along for its insane ride.

In a plot that's filled with intercutting characters, the film opens on Lenny Cole (Tom Wilkinson), one of those gangsters who control everything, and his dealings in the criminal world. His main sight is getting a deal struck with a Russian criminal (Karel Roden) over some real estate. Lenny's right hand man Archie (Mark Strong) is also looking over some London thugs (Gerard Butler, Idris Elba) who owe some rent to Lenny. To get the money, they do some work for an accountant lady friend (Thandie Newton) who is also working for the Russian, and they are unaware they are stealing from him.

The film then takes a major turn of events when it introduces an element of a painting the Russian loaned to Lenny that was stolen by his stepson, the notorious rocker Johnny Quid (Toby Kebbell). The rest of the film is all these characters circling around each other to try to get deals made and this painting back in the right hands.

What seems to be a staple of Guy Ritchie's films is that the characters remain the most interesting part. He's always known how to make them interesting enough to see that they can carry a movie even when their personalities would generally be turn offs. Another staple Ritchie is also that his excess of style in some scenes gets in the way of coherent narrative, and the onslaught of visual cues swirl the mind, making it beautiful to look at, but at times feel tedious and a bit smug. Still, the only thing that should really matter is the story keep going, and that's what Ritchie tries his best to do here. He isn't really helped by the fast editing from James Herbert, but cinematographer David Higgs and composer Steve Isles help create a real pulp atmosphere reminiscent of late sixties-early seventies that adds greatly to the texture of the film.

To go off of these wild characters, you need some damn good actors as well. Wilkinson is the best there is, and he is probably the only person to play a character that slaps a child and still make you marvel at the talent of the actor. He is truly one of my favorite actors, and the film should be seen almost for him alone. Other noteworthy performances are sprinkled throughout the cast, like Butler in a entertaining one, but not really fulfilling, Ludacris and Jeremy Piven as the American managers of Quid (though Piven is still playing Ari Gold here) and Newton is a great step up from her weird interpretation of Condelezza Rice, but is so cold here that it sometimes feels uneven with the humor of the picture. There's been a lot of notice for Kebbell, and he is very good here. His character is one that is hard to like, and that sometimes makes his sarcasm seem more like narcissism, but he manages to carry his weight.

I would point out, however, that the film suffers greatly because of its plot. In truth, the story is not of main concern here. The movie has pockets of different stories and interesting characters in each, but they are all strung together by a very weak link, that being the painting. Though, I give kudos for Ritchie not revealing the actual painting in the movie. It's a ploy that's been done before (like the suitcases in Pulp Fiction and Ronin), but it adds a little more to the film when he doesn't want us to be concerned with the picture but more so the motivations behind it. It falls a little flat, however, when those motivations are pretty weak and barren. The film's comedy does not really work that well either. Most of it reaches to really broad categories, such as intentionally horrendous dance moves from Butler and Newton, and a tenacious Russian assassin that refuses to go down. Those jokes run out of steam pretty quickly, and the film's reoccurring gay joke starts out as a little offensive but then becomes a little laborious.

Had this movie featured a plot that was noteworthy, it might have been better. As it stands now, it has a collection of really good short stories that try desperately to connect themselves into a feature length. It never really works, but those flaws get overlooked by the characters within them that are enhanced by the actors. I don't know if life after Madonna will get better for Ritchie, but hopefully the break will mean his style will be the same when he started making films, when he was like a virgin to the cinema world. *** / ****; GRADE: B