Each Guy Ritchie movie since The Man from U.N.C.L.E. has found a new way to disappoint me. His King Arthur, which could have been something truly different from him, was a disastrous marriage of his distinct laddish style with a classical medieval story. Aladdin, where that style could have made the movie interesting, was neutered by Disney homogeneity, leaving the film effectively bereft of any personal touch and hollow in multiple ways. And now The Gentlemen, which stood to be a return to form, a reprisal of the kind of British gangster movie that Ritchie made his name on, is let down by its own cynicism, a script far too pleased with itself, and an absence of the humanity that made his first two movies in this genre resonant.
In fairness, it is a better movie than his last two, Ritchie palpably much more at ease in his comfort zone of slickly edited interweaving storylines characterized by sharp wit and specifically pronounced accents. He’s delighted too by his nonlinear structure wherein tabloid P.I. Fletcher (Hugh Grant) recounts most of the narrative to Raymond (Charlie Hunnam), the right-hand man of drug trafficking kingpin Mickey Pearson (Matthew McConnaughey), in a colourful form of blackmail compiled as a screenplay -and pitched like one too. It’s nicely clever and Ritchie knows this, drawing attention to it by often overloading Fletchers’ dialogue with cinematic terminology and convention in the assumption the audience is familiar with it as well. Fletcher doesn’t factor into much of the main story himself, a shame given Grant’s eccentrically campy reporter is the most entertaining character; the plot he’s relating could have used some of his theatrical energy.
It concerns the attempted sabotage of American emigre (and apparently Rhodes Scholar) Pearsons’ marijuana empire, and the various power structures vying to take advantage of that. Unlike in Ritchies’ better movies, every thread revolves around Pearson, the central figure if not the protagonist of the piece, and repeatedly self-christened “king of the jungle” in a hacky metaphor the movie is way too fond of. Yet as a crime lord there isn’t the sly mockery and cogent venom directed towards him by the text that characterized the villainous gangsters of Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch. Rather, he’s meant to be an admirable character to a degree, with a personal code of not dealing in the business of harmful drugs (even though all drugs are), an immense dedication to his wife (Michelle Dockery), and plans for a peaceful retirement.
But it doesn’t work. McConnaughey plays the part much too menacingly, the script imbues him with such violent and unforgiving tendencies, and there’s no clear picture of his character not siphoned through someone else’s perception to give us an idea of his honest point-of-view and moral compass. He’s framed to be the hero, but his actions and manner contradict that. He may have a certain charm every so often, but he also ruthlessly forces a guy with a far more amiable personality through a Saw-like means of torture for a discretion that’s by no means his fault. Pearson is a bad guy as much as any of his enemies in this movie (badder than most); and if Ritchie recognizes this, it’s even worse, because it gives the film a certain nihilism and an ironic bleakness unbecoming its’ overarching comic tone.
Perhaps it’s assumed we’d like Pearson because of his association with Raymond, as Hunnams’ charismatic goon is the movies’ real anchor, much closer in spirit to the endearing everymen of Ritchies’ early work, if far wealthier and imposingly authoritative than them. He’s the character, if anyone, you want to see succeed, and Hunnam is effortlessly cool in the part. But we’re still not permitted to really know him, or any of the characters for that matter, who exist more to be walking amalgamations of the stereotypes of this genre -only missing the gruff cockney mob boss. And that’s not to say they aren’t fun: Grant certainly is, as is Hunnam and Colin Farrell’s Coach (despite simultaneously being something of a waste of Farrell’s talent). If nothing else, the presence of these actors counts for a lot. But for being played by such a good ensemble, the characters are disappointingly shallow.
None more so than the members of a Chinese mob in opposition to Pearson, who on top of everything previously mentioned, have to contend with the films’ appalling racist leanings. There are derogatory terms casually tossed about and offensive (borderline supremacist) subtext permeating the Chinese interactions with the white characters. Henry Golding, cast against type as an arrogant, upstart young villain, doesn’t quite work, yet is made to be the only character less likable than Pearson. And while not a lot of characters actually die in the film, of the ones that do, roughly two-thirds are Chinese, and usually to comedic effect. The movie already comes across pretty mean-spirited at times (there’s a slight homophobia to Fletcher’s portrayal also); adding a distasteful orientalism just exacerbates that feeling, and is a creative choice that has no place in a movie this side of Cato Fong.
There’s no particular reason I can gather why the film is called The Gentlemen. It’s a title that recalls traditional English decorum and sophistication, but doesn’t seem to have a real place here. This isn’t Kingsman, where the big gimmick is stiff upper lip British social etiquette masking a brutal capacity for violence and mayhem. Apart from some of the characters being stylish and wealthy, and a penchant for diplomatic language (the Britishness of which McConnaughey struggles with), it doesn’t much apply to the actions and behaviours of this collection of thugs. Perhaps Ritchie hoped it would attract that audience of his friend Matthew Vaughan, or that it would look more dignified compared to the grungy veneer and subject matter of Lock, Stock and Snatch -he has supposedly evolved as a filmmaker since then. But for all its good humour, moments of charm, and instances of fun, The Gentlemen remains firmly in Ritchie’s perennial wheelhouse, albeit with a more overwhelming degree of emotional dimness, a disinterest in underdogs over corrupt powers, and a boastful air that stinks of a creative content to be stuck in his ways.
Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/JordanBosch
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Jordan_D_Bosch
Letterboxd: https://letterboxd.com/jbosch/
Comments
Post a Comment