Ordure!

This is another film adaptation of an Irvine Welsh novel that was referred to as "unfilmable", although when reading the book when it first came out I for one was struck by the tightness of the narrative and the cinema-friendly focus on a single protagonist.

The antihero in question is Bruce Robertson (James McAvoy), a dodgy copper trying to make the most of a promotion opportunity by ruining his rivals through a series of cruel intricate schemes. Meanwhile, his mind is deteriorating, and he's haunted by flashbacks, waking dreams, and humanoid livestock. The film is fairly faithful to the source, and the changes (including some understandably blunted edges) are down to the different artform.

Irvine Welsh has said that McAvoy's performance is better than De Niro's in Taxi Driver. I don't think this is a suitable comparison. Scorsese's seminal feature was about a post-traumatic depression, whereas Jon S. Baird's film is more manic. For me, the film Filth most resembles is A Clockwork Orange. Like Kubrick's masterpiece, the entire aesthetic is informed by the subjectivity of the central character. And there are subtler nods: the use of classical music, the bleached windows, Jim Broadbent's reinvention of the Deltoid character (a probation officer then, a psychiatrist now), and the visual reference to 2001: A Space Odyssey.

Before the film's release, I wasn't convinced by the casting of McAvoy, but after watching it I can safely say he's transformative – to capture such bipolar savagery and the fear in a single facial expression is the sign of a special performance. The supporting cast provides a colourful blend of caricatures. Jamie Bell, Eddie Marsan and Imogen Poots all make an impact in the few moments when McAvoy isn't dominating the screen.

For me, the dud notes concern the tone of the film. Sometimes Baird's shifts between the schizoid black comedy of Robertson's outbursts and his introspective guilt about his past are so sudden and sentimental that their capacity to convince is lost in the (lack of) transition. Part of this is down to Clint Mansell's disappointingly soft score, whose tinkly piano and lifeless strings often feel incongruous, more awkward than deliberate.

But these minor issues don't detract from a powerful, funny, and finally moving depiction of mental disintegration. To say that it's the best Welsh adaptation since Trainspotting may not be saying much – so I'll say instead that it's a very good film in its own right.

If you are a friend of funny, thrilling and bizarre movies, you're gonna love this one! First of all, this movie manages to surprise you again and again till the end. It switches between funny, dramatic and thrilling elements. James McAvoy gives an amazing performance (by far the best I've seen from him) as the funny, manipulative, sick, drug-addicted, broken, Cop and manages to portrait every aspect of the character. Another piece of awesome acting is delivered by Jim Broadbent who plays his psychologist. The dialogues between him and James McAvoy are just amazing! The rest of the cast is also decent and the characters are all very special in a refreshing way. The only bad thing i can mention about this movie is, that it has some (but small) longueurs. I can recommend it to everyone who likes movies of this kind and has no problem with movies containing a lot of sex, drugs and f*cked up moments :)

Mister Tumnus, I've a feeling we're not in Narnia any more…

Think you know James McAvoy? Think again. His performance in Jon S. Baird's adaptation of Irving Welsh's Filth is astounding and there is nothing sweet or fluffy about it or any other aspect of the film. Filth is very funny, very wrong, very sordid and very likely to incite hatred from Daily Mail readers across the land. Sex, drugs, more sex, more drugs, violence, corruption, depravity, even more sex and drugs… Filth is absolutely, well, filthy, and is a memorable experience to say the least.

My companion for the screening, Bag, made two comments that stood out post-screening. The first I agree with entirely: "With the thousands of films I've seen over the years, this is the first one I've come out of wishing that I'd made it." The second, that it was a film to appreciate rather than enjoy, I'm going dispute. Call me debauched, immoral and twisted, but I enjoyed every last nanosecond of Filth.

But that's not to say it is always easy viewing. Far from it. Sometime after the midway point the laughs die down, the stomach churns a little more uneasily, the grimaces are more evident and the intakes of breath are more audible. We are less willing to forgive but, like the car crash up ahead that has caused all the drivers in front to rubber-neck, well, just one long look as we pass can't hurt, can it?

Bruce Robertson (McAvoy) is a bigot. He's bi-polar, a junkie, sex-obsessed, self-obsessed, manipulative and frequently thoroughly unpleasant. He's also a cop. With a promotion in the balance, Bruce is up against several colleagues and sets about turning one against the other, unsettling them with salacious gossip and blatant lies to ensure he beats them to the post. Throw in his manipulation of fellow freemason Bladesey (Eddie Marsan), his sultry wife, Carole (Shauna MacDonald) and his hallucinatory sessions with Doctor Rossi (Jim Broadbent) and you have one monumentally screwed up anti-hero. And what's not to love about that?

The Cohen brothers may have the monopoly on fantastic character names, but nobody writes actual characters like Welsh and the cast that Baird has poured into Filth is staggeringly good in their interpretation of this mess of freaks and misfits. There isn't a poor performance in the entire film from the uncertain laddishness of Ray (Jamie Bell) to the fantastic absurdity of Doctor Rossi. While none are bona fide Hollywood stars, the cast that glitters in a maniacal, dirty way is a treat beyond expectation: Imogen Poots, Shirley Henderson, Gary Lewis (yes, Billy Elliott and his dad are reunited at last!), John Sessions, Joanne Froggatt…

Filth is a perfectly paced film; it roars ahead stirring emotions and judgment, exciting and thrilling as it trashes everything in its wake but it is never so fast that we feel left behind or that we've missed out on a juicy morsel of degeneracy. Sufficient time is allowed for us to filter through, as best we can, the quagmire that is Bruce's life, but Baird never pauses or permits us time to glance at our watch or neighbour.

The soundtrack, too, is bang on the money stamping though a musical landscape that is at times acceptably cheesy and more often a reminder of what to check is on the iPod. Where else can you effortlessly segue from David Soul into Shaking' Stevens? While the latter is consigned to audio wallpaper, the bizarrely fantastic cameo from David Soul is a delight. Had Dennis Potter snorted cocaine Pennies From Heaven might have resembled this.

Yes, there are elements of Welsh's novel that are missing (no police dogs here…) from Filth but there always have to be excisions for film adaptations and there's no reason, in this instance at least, to mark down a film for that. No, Filth is superb and as near to perfect as I've seen for many months (since Broken and Trance).

If the trailer excited you, take the plunge. If you're a nun, a granny, my mother, or lack a strong stomach and nurture your prudishness, take a very long, very fast walk in the direction of something much safer. Dixon of Dock Green this ain't!

If you look in the mirror and see something slightly off-kilter grinning back, however…

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Remember when Ewan McGregor played in a little movie called Trainspotting? The film was made after a book by Scottish writer Irvine Welsh and it was an intense and often funny window into the complete wasting of human life due to heroin. It made McGregor famous.

Now, James McAvoy has no need to be made famous, he already is, and he showed he is a great actor in several movies; he is on a roll. But in this film, also made from an Irvine Welsh book, he really outdid himself, playing a deranged police inspector torn apart by addiction, grief and madness.

The film itself is difficult to explain and, perhaps, it would be more clear to me if I would have read the book first. Some of the characters I have no idea who they were and why he was interacting with them in the first place. Also the ending is pretty much the antithesis of the one in Trainspotting. Here, there is no hope.

The direction was good, I guess, as well as the general production values. A bunch of known, but usually secondary actors fill the cast, with often interesting results, but let's face it, the film is mostly a one man show and McAvoy was up for the job. I just wish the story would have been less confusing.

Conclusion: it would be a shame not to watch this film, even if you end up not liking it for some reason. You need to be familiar with Scottish accents or use a subtitle to get what people are saying. Other than that, great work, James!

Funny and dramatic at the same time. The main character of the film causes double feelings. On the one hand, he is disgusting and pathetic, but on the other hand, he is lonely and seriously ill. Guilt eats away from the inside of the protagonist. This can be seen from the last phrase: "The rules are the same everywhere." Everyone pays for their actions...