44 Inch Chest

Well ... I've always joked to friends that I'd happily pay to watch Ray Winstone cooking beans on toast. He's perhaps best known here in Oz for the wonderful Vincent, but has been a real favourite for me since his early work.

However, if he'd got the saucepan and can-opener out at some stage in these proceedings, it could only have improved things.

The opening scene is compelling, with Winstone sprawled semi-conscious on the floor amidst the wreckage of a family living room. As if the poor fellow clearly hadn't suffered enough already (even if we aren't yet privy to the particulars of his situation), the almost-forgotten hideousness of Nilsson's Without You provides perfect background music.

Our hero's friends and family rally round in this time of crisis and there's some diverting argy-bargy (amid fantastic London locations) as our group of protagonists is assembled. This stage-setting phase of the movie concludes with the group's arrival at a grimy terraced house - I use that phrase intentionally because at this point the film effectively becomes a conventional play spread over two locations.

This terrific cast never exceeds or even equals the sum of its parts amid production values that call to mind BBC's Play For Today in the 70s and early 80s. RADA's likely advice from an earlier period for portraying cockneys also seems have been in play - drop yourself about 3 social classes and 50 IQ points and you'll be fine, love.

It's no mean feat to tell a fulfilling story within a bubble such as the one created here, and it doesn't really come off - we never learn enough about the relationships between the players or the context that surrounds some of the remarks that are made.

Yes, Winstone's character is supposed to be confused, I do understand that, but I don't believe the audience should be sharing in that affliction.

Stephen Dillane impresses but John Hurt's wasted here, and with his ill-fitting dentures (at least I ASSUME that's what they are ... ) he channels Phil Davis doing his best Albert Steptoe impersonation at one of Mike Leigh's Christmas parties.

The one lasting benefit for me is that I might just tone down my own bad language a little. They just don't stop in this film. Everyone knows that a well-deployed swear word can have massive impact but this dialogue is peppered with Anglo-Saxon to the point where it rapidly becomes not only meaningless but irritating.

I suspect I sounded a little like this at the footy the night before, and I can only promise my neighbours I'll try to be better in future ... if that works I'll tell my daughter she should seriously think about doing the same!

I really didn't think I would be writing a poor review about a movie with Winstone, Hurt, McShane, Wilkinson and the still beautiful Joanne Whalley as central characters.

However, this was just a waste of their talents and a boring film to boot. Its a talkfest so if you don't fancy the idea of almost all of the film consisting of dialogue in one room, this ain't for you. I liked the Before Sunrise and Before sunset movies with Ethan Hawke, these were talkfests too but they had a point and the characters were clearly defined.

In this movie, you don't really know enough about anyone to really care, you don't know if Ray Winstone really is a bad husband and how well his gangster mates know him and why they know him which is important in the whole witch hunt that takes place.

The writers for this wrote the excellent sexy beast and it looks like they didn't have anything left creatively here. Does every UK movie have to have a gangster undercurrent, its so overdone and this didn't help here, neither did the excessive swearing, I'm no prude, but it just wasn't warranted, if that was meant to portray Winstone;s mates as real hard cases, it didn't work.

And the ending was the biggest disappointment of all, I ended up looking around in astonishment, asking "is that it then"? It made all of what we had seen in the previous 85 minutes redundant.

(I saw this at the Sydney Film Festival, but IMDb has it as "in production", so I may have seen an incomplete version.) The pitch would have been something like "Reservoir Dogs meets Last Orders". From Reservoir Dogs we get the basic set-up of a bunch of crooks played by fine actors meeting in a lock-up and debating what to do with their captive, plus an enigmatic title and a flashback structure. From Last Orders comes a group of top-notch actors clearly enjoying themselves in a brown, downbeat London.

Some of the dialogue is fun if you like expletives spat out in poetry-like rhythms. There are good jokes and the acting is, as you'd expect from this lot, pretty fine. I was particularly pleased to see Stephen Dillane get his chance to prove himself cinematically after such an impressive theatrical career.

The downside is the plot, or rather the lack of it. The basic premise is laid out early on in the piece, and there is no real conflict to maintain our interest. Contrast the uniformity of opinion here with the combustible dynamics of Mr Blond, Mr White et al and the problem is clear. Some dream sequences intended to open the tale out feel forced, and a couple of minor twists are inconsequential.

If this script had been produced with a younger group of unknown actors it might get hailed for its promise. With this cast, 44 Inch Chest can only be counted a disappointment.

44 INCH CHEST is a very dark, brooding, cynical, fairly static stagey film that allows a platform for some of England's finest actors a tour de force in roles they likely chose because of the opportunity to work together. Aside from a few out shots (scenes where the audience is allowed a bit more information about he background of the story and its characters) this film feel like a stage play, so finely wrought is the dialogue and the pacing of the piece. For those who saw and appreciated SEXY BEAST (also written by Louis Mellis and David Scinto and using some of the same actors), this film will reward. For those easily offended by foul language and physical violence this may be a film to pass.

Aging gangster Colin Diamond (Ray Winstone) is informed that his wife of 21 years Liz (Joanne Whaley), is leaving him and in complete disbelief and denial his emotions gradually unfurl into violence: he must discover the name of the lover. After sever beatings Liz tells him and we jump to a scene where Colin and his fellow crime friends are kidnapping the waiter Loverboy (Melvil Poupaud, whose intensity as an actor commands our attention despite his lack of dialogue) in a van. Loverboy is taken to a filthy room, beaten (we suppose) and is locked in a chest awaiting Colin's decision on how to handle the lad. Colin's friends include the mamma's boy Archie (Tom Wilkinson), the seemingly suave Mal (Stephen Dillane), the frankly gay Meredith (Ian McShane), and the evil Old Man Peanut (John Hurt): oddly enough the only background we know of these crooks is through flashback scenes with Archie caring for this mum (Edna Doré) and Meredith taking a call during a assignation with a nude lad on the sofa (Ramon Christian). The point the friends are trying to make is that Colin is losing his grip on life because of the devastation and humiliation of being betrayed by his adulterous wife. They urge Colin to kill both Loverboy and Liz, make a coin toss to decide whether the reluctant Colin kills or lets them go, and when the toss comes up with a thumbs down decision, Colin is left alone with Loverboy tied to a chair to discuss the future. How this discussion proceeds and how Colin arrives at his decision on how to complete this cycle is the bulk of the story.

So not much happens here with a script that is as foul as dirt and as powerful as a corpse- crushing machine - except the ability of this sterling crew of actors to bring to life characters who while they are terrifying on one level, show incredible support for their abused friend on the other level. It is a taut actors' piece, beautifully executed by actors and director Malcolm Venville. Not for the faint of heart but definitely for those who relish superb theatrics!

Grady Harp

A front-runner for film of the year? Probably not, but this movie definitely does come with it's moments with a bolster of some of Britain's finest talents. Ray Winstone, John 'F*****G' Hurt, Tom Wilkinson, Ian 'Lovejoy' McShane and some guy called Stephen Dillane. With its slightly muddled beginning's one is led to believe that there is somewhat of a dilemma at stake. Ray Winstone's alcohol fuelled, lost and idiocentric character Colin with his loose personality comes face to face with a situation that he clearly has no grasp of dealing with. So whom should he turn to in his hour of need? His trusting gangster friends of course.

Nestled in a room for the majority of the film each of Colin's friends play their part in trying to comfort him in his hour of need, or not as the case would seem. The centre of attention being Melvil Poupaud portraying a French waiter accused of committing sins with Colin's wife 'Liz' played by Joanne Whalley. What should Colin do with him? How does he tackle this scenario? The love of his life with another man? A French man!!! With his friends on board each offering their own unique words of wisdom you can all but feel Colin's mind fracturing into the unknown.

Alone I feel that John Hurt's foul mouth is worth the entrance fee, here's a guy who's pants I'd like to wear, clean or soiled, I'm not fussy. The guy really show piecing his talents here as an old school foul mouthed gangster, and when I say foul, I really mean foul, I'm pretty sure that my mother would have a hernia should she witness some of the obscenities to fall out old John's mouth here. His character 'Old Man Peanut' re-telling the story of Samson and Delilah in his own narrative is quite simply priceless.

Ian 'Lovejoy' McShane adding a certain suaveness to his role as homosexual 'Meredith' shunning Old Man Peanut's homophobic remarks with confidence whilst Mommy's boy 'Archie' played by Tom Wilkinson is a lacklustre character who just really wants to go home, a character that is seemingly fell into the criminal underworld by accident. Stephen Dillane plays slightly shady 'Mal' who Colin has his suspicions about, or is it all in his head?

I feel that the film could be quite easily misunderstood, it is in essence a dialogue film with word play being order of the day, breathing scantily clad undertones of Reservoir Dogs, a film I always remember my Granddad going to see at the cinema on a holiday in Brighton to escape my Nan for the day, he came out disgusted and disappointed in his choice. Naturally however this film is no Reservoir Dogs and it definitely won't appeal to all with its minimal scene locale and John Hurt's foul mouth. So if you want aesthetically pleasing locations and out of world experiences or if your put off by naughty words then you'd best stick with Avatar. But if your interested in witnessing some of Britain's finest meat play it out in a room together for 95 minutes then this movie is well worth a butchers look.

7/10