Wrath of Man

Wrath of Man ★★★½

The haughty man we all know and love, back with a loaded, if overlong bang, reuniting with the Hyde to his Jekyll, Mr Statham, the calmest angriest man alive. Ritchie seems to think this is far more complex than it is, the non-linear structure and ostentatious chapters make it laughably self-important, but it wouldn’t be Ritchie without the grandstanding, would it! 

Despite the aforementioned cavalier and despite Scott Eastwood’s one-expression-fits-all face (one day they’ll realise he can’t act anymore than a brick can), this is back to form for Mr Ritchie and is for once not overcome with smugness, weightier grit in lieu of the slicey-dicey pub entertainment and the cartoon gore replaced with resolute, strikingly real violence. Refreshingly not the self-consciously flashy stuff we’re used to, Ritchie seemingly growing artistically (for now anyway) and not getting himself in the way of the narrative, while still maintaining his unmistakable panache. 

A stripped-back thrilling tale of brutal vengeance with refined, stylish gun-fights n a stellar score of yesteryear’s genre films to boot. Criminally under-utilised Niamh Algar, though. That’s nearly unforgivable

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