The Lives of the Saints

Without question, the worst film I've seen for a long while. I endured to the end because surely there must be something here, but no. The plot, when not dealing in clichés, rambles to the point of non-existence; dialogue that is supposed to be street is simply hackneyed; characters never develop beyond sketches; set-pieces are clichéd. Worse, considering its co-director, the photography is only so-so.

Comments elsewhere that elevate this alongside Get Carter, Long Good Friday or Kaspar Hauser are way way off the mark; Lives of the Saints lacks their innovation let alone their depth and shading. In short, their craft. A ruthless editor could probably trim it down to a decent 30-minute short, but as it stands it's a 6th form film project realised on a million-pound scale; rambling and bloated with its own pretensions. That it received funding (surely only because of Rankin's name) while other small films struggle for cash is depressing for the British film industry.

Well, usually I give a plot outline in this section, but considering the fact that I didn't know myself what the hell was going on myself, I'll try to be as concise as possible. A group of losers find an abandoned child, who can help them predict results while gambling, thus making them a lot of money. The local Russian(?) gangster doesn't like this (more on him later) and tries to get the little blighter. Then we have a stupid cafe worker who suddenly decides an old drunk she meets is her son, a priest who dances in his church when he is all alone, A black guy called Roadrunner(!) who.. runs everywhere and.. ARRGH I GIVE UP!!

Populated exclusively be people with stupid accents and with one of the most incoherent stories I have ever seen, it is unbelievable that this film ever got made. All throughout I was thinking to myself: What was the point in THAT scene? Why am I watching these boring people? Why is this such pretentious drivel? What's with the portentous narration? In the end I just gave up and started to play Literati on the Internet, leaving the film on so I could write this review having claimed I had watched it.. but my God, it was painful just to LISTEN to it. Repeat this film on a loop in Guantanamo bay, and I guarantee you'll be up to your neck in radical Muslims making confessions, whether they're guilty or not.

I must give a special mention to the obese gentleman who plays the foreign Ruskie mobster. Simply put, the delivers the WORST performance I have ever seen in the thousands of films I have watched. That ain't hyperbole. To look at him is to hate him. To hear him is to hate him. Heck, even his tan is fake. I sincerely hope that if he ever decides to act again, someone close to him will politely but firmly remind him what a fool he made of himself here and tell him to forget it. If he still won't listen to reason, drug him. Lock him up. Break his legs if needs be, but don't let him anywhere near a camera again. Please.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot.. What a terrible, terrible movie. 0/10

Just saw this film today, it's interesting. Obviously not to everyone's taste (as witnessed up the negative reviews on this page) but i don't think it's as bad as people make out.

the story was thought provoking, a little bit of a tale on morality, but with a few bits of comedy, some graphic violence, some social commentary. a little bit of something for everyone.

and thankfully assumes it's audience is smart enough to make up their own minds without needing to spell out and explain everything.

lots has been made of this being Rankin's debut as a directory, i think he's done a good job. i was a little concerned he'd have filled the movie with artsy scene settings and camera-work, but while there are a couple of sections like that, they've been used appropriately for effect, without distracting you from the rest of the film

the actors did a fine job too - i wasn't looking to pick hole in their performances, but i didn't notice any either. most of the cast were new to me, although Emma Pierson is always brilliant in anything she does, and Marc Warren was very good as the priest with a secret.

This film from celebrated celebrity photographer Rankin and newcomer Chris Cottam takes a while to establish it's reality. When faced with the everydayness of what could be any London street corner, you'd be forgiven for thinking this could be one of a hundred faceless, mob-genre London flicks. But what the two directors (with the aid of an interesting script from Tony Grisoni) manage to do is establish an alternate reality in a very familiar surrounding. With some excellent central performances from David Leon (Alexander) and Bronson Webb (Venus), this film attacks the senses and makes the viewer ask questions about morality, greed, lust and power! The haunting presence of the mute Child (Sam MacLintock) adds an eerie dimension to an already altered universe, where people are as likely to spout elegiac prose as cause some serious physical harm. In short, this film delivers where lots of British films fail; it asks questions and packs punches in equal measure. BRILLIANT!

As a photographer myself, but don't find the aura of Rankin to be beguiling at all, I was almost hoping that this was a failure, that it was as bad as most reviews make it out to be.

Direction-wise, it is very ordinary, indeed. No 'special eye'; just pointing the camera in the right direction at the right time. But, I like a challenge, I like a difficult movie and I'll give Brit flicks an extra effort, so I watched this with an open mind.

Yes, James Cosmo as gangster Karva is a difficult fella to like and I can't work out if he's being himself or is indeed, acting. Either way, he's either overacting or an extremely overexcited, maybe unstable individual. David Leon, as the Runner at least adds some semblance of decency until the movie descends into Tarantino territory, in a torture scene. Then it goes back into a Cockney 'Shameless' zone, as the wide- eyed 'saint/angel' or whatever "it" is goes from speechless orphan to fortune teller and caster of wishes in a nano-second - and miracle of all miracles, everybody knows this, without the child seemingly having said anything.

Unfortunately, The Lives Of...has the narrative consistency of school- dinner custard as it jumps about like a frog in a blender and basically one's faith in it diminishes as all credibility crashes.

The script wants to be big and clever but isn't, it's just shouty and aggressive. As the religious bits kicked in, I was not relishing the afore-warned appearance of Marc Warren, who is, to my mind a greatly overrated actor, who always manages to rub me up the wrong way. That's a personal thing, of course and shouldn't affect my view of the film itself, but it does.

At this point, during a scene in church, where a man burps and then plugs from a large bottle of vodka, I did a rare thing - and switched it off. A waste of everybody's time, especially mine. I saw it on BBC2