The Gentlemen -The Modern Cad Guide to Film

Guy Ritchie has returned to his roots and delivers a cracking flashback gangster caper movie with more C-bombs than gynaecologists stag weekend, endlessly satisfying stand-offs and Olympic level competitive scene-stealing roles for the leads.

The first thing that strikes you about Guy Ritchie’s The Gentlemen is the title card which states that the 15 rating is merely caveated with “contains very strong language”. Surprisingly for a gangster movie which contains its fair share of often brutal deaths, not a word about violence – that’s because while there is plenty of wincingly implied death and mayhem you seldom see anything your granny would be that upset about.

The film relies on the Hugh Grant character, Fletcher (a nasal, sleazy and ostensibly subservient gutter journalist who has spied a chance to make a killing) to lay out his scheme to blackmail Matthey McConaughey’s Marijuana Kingpin Mickey Pearson with a theatrical flourish, a rat’s instinct for survival and a relish that may be his undoing.

Acts one and two revolve around an evening meeting between Fletcher and Charlie Hunnam’s Ray, Pearson’s consigliere. As Fletcher lays out the background to his claim for £20m in order to prevent the exposure of Pearson’s entire enterprise, Ray listens patiently. He corrects Fletchers occasional erroneous assumptions and displays the weary indulgence of man who has seen and done too many things to be unduly worried about a chancer on the make, but smart enough to assess all potential threats, especially if they turn up on his doorstep uninvited – or in this case, sitting in his home drinking his rare scotch.

As Fletcher sets out his discoveries, we are treated to a series of flashbacks which establish the Pearson legend, his empire of marijuana production and distribution, the potential deal on the table to sell the entire operation to a US buyer, an ambitious rival offer and the cast of supporting characters.

All of these are told with impeccable comic timing and occasional misdirection. A persistent theme throughout the film is that maturity and experience beats youth and ambition – Whether it is Ray explaining the facts of life to some upper-class junkies or would-be gangsters via a joint-enhanced monologue or concealed automaker weaponry, or Colin Farrell’s Coach exasperatedly taking on four knife-brandishing youths in a takeaway before inviting them to join his gym to keep them on the straight and narrow(ish).

Speaking of the Coach, Colin Farrell’s character is a glorious and seemingly legendary anarcho-paternal figure who loves his adopted local lads and who he mentors in his boxing gym irrespective of colour or creed, as we find in one exchange which tweaks the nose of the politically correct while asserting that intent matters more than mere words and that respect can be found in the ostensibly foulest statements. Mainly operating as a plot device, rather than fully fleshed-out characters, the group of lads’ antics and actions both bring the Coach into Ray’s orbit and resolve a challenging situation in the third act. Offering a limited engagement in penance for his lads’ ‘exuberance’ and in order to protect them, the Coach engages in an ever-increasing number of favours to repay his debt of honour, often hilariously.

Michelle Dockery, cast against upper-class type as an East End gangster’s moll, is as capable as any male character in this world of easy violence and plays the role with a hard-edged style and am instinctive flair for the game. Mickey relies on her for unerring advice and emotional support, so that when a threat to her emerges which goes beyond mere business as usual, Pearson’s third act response and required penance is brutally understandable.

The major threat stems from an ambitious young gangland warlord-in-the-making, Dry Eye, played with relish and elan by Henry Golding - his disdain for the old order and ambition to rule the underworld sets up a tension that can only be resolved with one party left standing. The true nature and scope of his scheme is gradually revealed via various plot twists and sets us up for satisfying finale to this slice of impeccable nefarious ne'erdoing well.

Ritchie deploys his trademark cinematic devices such as quick cuts and labelled freeze frames to add an energy to a film that already clips along at a usually steady and sometimes frenetic pace. Dynamic scenes follow moments of calm and superb comic beats lift moments of tension to deliver a deeply satisfying addition to the cannon of a subculture that Ritchie has already populated so memorably.

I could also go on about the stylish attire, the nods to society's narcissistic new media obsession, observations on class vs money and Hugh Grant’s seedily-tinted glasses, but you should collect for yourself your favourite details in this essay on middle-age survival in a youth-obsessed age – to quote Ulysses “Though much is taken much abides and that which we are we are”. Write off the old dogs at your peril…