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Hollywood has lost the ability to buckle swash. Guy Ritchie, shamelessly stealing from Indiana Jones, gives us a charmless treasure hunt that feels honed by corporate focus groups and cinematic SEO.
2020’s The Gentlemen is on Prime in the US, Netflix in the UK.
Guy Ritchie ups his game on his signature subgenre with a hilariously sublime crime comedy that acts as mirror on the legit world and oozes with crackling cynicism about culture and politics as well.
I’m back for my 11th appearance and the start of my fourth year as a regular recurring guest commentator on this always-fun culture-chat program…
The romance lacks chemistry, and the villain lacks bite. It seems embarrassed to be a musical, failing to embrace the necessary ineffable daydreaminess. Somehow even more cartoonish as live-action.
Ugly, garish, anachronistic like a small mean child playing with matches, and completely lacking in anything Robin Hood–y: there’s no fun, no romance, no virtue. Instead? Bizarre “aesthetics” and even worse politics.
Derivative, rote, devoid of heart and hope. Guy Ritchie has found no reason to retell Arthur’s story, or to render a mythic hero as a self-serving thug.
A riff on the Hollywood conventions of a story we know very well already, with little new to say. James McAvoy’s mad scientist is fun to watch, though.
Guy Ritchie’s spy-themed GQ fashion shoot. Pure popcorn nonsense, sleek and chic and vaguely funny, but instantly forgettable.
Strange and wonderful and unclassifiable in the best way, this is an unexpectedly touching and oddly funny platonic romance. Sort of.
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