By AMY NICHOLSON
By ALAN SCHERSTUHL
By CAROLINA DEL BUSTO
By AMY NICHOLSON
By STEPHANIE ZACHAREK
By R. Scott Moxley
Oy, guv'nor, in case you 'adn't 'eard, 'ere's some'n new on at the flicks, directed by this bloke called Matthew Vaughn, who was Guy Ritchie's producer on Lock,StockandTwoSmokingBarrelsand Snatch. It's about this grafter—we don't never find out 'is name—who works for this bigtime boss called Jimmy Price. This no-name bloke is the dog's bollocks at what 'e does—don't make no row, don't even carry a piece—and 'e knows nuffin' good lasts forever, so 'e's lookin' to retire 'fore somebody comes 'round and beats seven shades of shit out of 'im, or worse. But—and stop me if you've 'eard this one before, guv—Mr. No-Name's got one more assignment from ol' Jimmy before 'e's through and, wouldn't ya know, the whole plan goes tits-up.
The movie is called LayerCake, and, like just about every British crime picture of the last decade, it's stacked with gentlemen gangsters in Saville Row suits, blockheaded yobs with names like Kinky, Tiptoes and the Duke, and a disposable caper scenario (here involving a missing girl and a truckload of high-potency Ecstasy tablets) equal parts rowdy laddishness and bone-crushing bloodshed. Beyond that, there's little to say, except to note that the cult of Ritchie has become about as tedious as the cult of Tarantino. Both have led to an equal number of badly imitative films, though the influence of Ritchie is the more puzzling in that his own movies aren't that original (or that good) to begin with. In LayerCake, the manifold plot machinations are so tedious, their ultimate revelations so pat, they're hardly worth the effort it takes to keep up with them. And with one major exception, the characters fail to stand out from the sleek, impersonal backgrounds that suggest Vaughn (just hired to direct the next X-Mensequel) may have thought he was filming a feature-length Lexus commercial. The exception is the film's anonymous protagonist, embodied by Daniel Craig with flinty authority, but also with a subterranean vulnerability like tiny cracks forming on a frozen lake. He's the only thing in LayerCakethat amounts to more than a collection of macho poses—and if he can't quite save the movie, he does make it a good deal better than a poke in the eye.
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