The dialogue in this shitter was so bad – every goon spoke from the Brit gangster heyday, that putrid cesspool of movie tat.
The coarseness of the characters, their shamelessness, was just revolting, and Ray Winstone was truly terrible in this film, a Phil Mitchell impression that would belong in Stella Street. But let’s not delve into it too much as he’s usually more than reliable, sometimes dynamite.
Remember Heat (1995)? The bank robbery imitation is desperate in this stinker. It was unbearable viewing in a manky film that went on and on and on and on and reached such imaginative levels that “fack” or “facking” had to be inserted in the middle of every sentence. Example: “Stay in your facking rooms!” shouted by an armed cop.
It was annoying as fuck/fack.
And Brick Top from Snatch (2000) is in it.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 