Shoreditch

How in God's name did something this awful ever get made in the first place? How does writing this bad get sold? What was Shane Richie thinking? (He is an OK actor, but he's never going to be in the acting class of the greats and he should stick to lightweight stuff, like Eastenders, in which he is essentially himself.) - Come to think of it Shane was just the same in this movie too!

The worst thing about this film (if we ignore how bad the script and directing are) is the acting itself. I mean, there are some well known talents in this little movie who are acting like total hams, in fact, there is not one bit of good acting in this whole movie.

I truly wish I was not one of the few people who actually bothered to see this film, I would rather have stayed home and waxed my legs, or done something else equally painful but at least somewhat useful.

My advice to anyone thinking of investing in a British movie is, DON'T, if this is what we produce and think will make money, wait until you see a great script like The Full Monty come along, now that's class.

This movie is total dross - do not even waste 50p to rent it on video!

Want to see a good movie - see Lost In Translation, The Last Samurai, East is East, The Full Monty, Good Will Hunting, even Rocky - all with compelling scripts!

I haven't seen this film, but curiosity has gotten the better of me. I used to like the concept of "Goodnight Sweetheart", plus I wonder can this film be so bad with an overall score of about 4? It can't be as bad as Revelation. Maybe one of the Sundays tabloids can give it away on DVD?

Its interesting that if you click the names of the users who posted the two positive reviews on here ("this is a very watchable film" and "The performance of Shane Richie was excellent") it shows that "triciacooklin" and "geoffdeane" have not commented on any other films. Would that be because they were involved with this and wanted to give it a bit of a boost? Aw, bless.

A few reviews of 'Shoreditch' have called it a contender for the worst British movie of the decade so far, and after seeing it I'm inclined to agree. In the hands of a more skilled film-maker, this could have been a fascinating little mystery. As it is, it's a lumbering, confused and boring waste of time. I have to admit, I actually walked out of the cinema after a while, because I couldn't stand any more. I survived 2 hours of 'Gigli', but an hour of 'Shoreditch' was too much. That should give an idea what utter garbage this film is.

The story is totally uninvolving. It feels rushed, cobbled together. The characters are forgettable, the performances are pathetic. The actors look uncomfortable, and who can blame them? The script is full of some real howlers. The sets look embarassingly cheap. The film looks bland and flat, and there's no atmosphere.

As a result, 'Shoreditch' feels like an extended daytime TV soap. How anyone ever thought this trash would make its money back is beyond me.

This pile of steaming cinematic waste is an insult to English cinema. We gave the world Long Good Friday, Get Carter, Kes, Italian Job, Trainspotting, Ratcatcher, Ealing and some of the most remarkable movies to ever grace the screen. This, on the other hand, seems like a few steps back into neanderthal territory. Utterly dire all round - an artistic, technical and (inevitably) commercial failure. AVOID!

In 1939, on the eve of the Second World War, jazz club owner Thomas Hinkman (Richie) conducts an ill-advised affair with club singer Butterfly (Richardson) - "Butterfly by name, scorpion by nature".

Sucked into a sordid world of gangsters, drugs and corrupt MPs, he plans his escape route from his wife and lover. Sixty years later, Hinkman's descendant Tom (Ross), his girlfriend Abigail (Tyler) and their buffoonish flatmate Chad (Bovell) uncover Hinkman's walled-up property - along with a dead body, setting the scene for a Chinatown-style mystery.

Tragic is the only word to describe this. If the 1930s dialogue is unbelievable (were expressions like "Chill out a little" really common currency in 1939?), the cast appear equally unconvinced throughout. "Oh Butterfly, I've fallen in love with you", says Richie's Hinkman, with all the conviction of a barman noting that the barrel needs changing.

Richardson's demeanour is less 'sultry' that simply drugged. Thank gawd then, for two saving graces: that Tyler is lovely to look at (for really, nothing and nobody else here is) and that it all ends so abruptly.