*** May contain spoilers ***
Rocky Racoon in some horrible room asleep on the legs of his rival
earsopen from ,
27th January, 2010
Proof, if proof was needed, that swearing can be both clever and devastatingly funny in this enjoyable film, charting the emotional turmoil of a loving husband turned abusive cuckold contemplating murderous revenge. Its lukewarm reception seems unfair compared to the unjustifiable laudations granted to the disappointingly bland films produced so often by British studios. It offers an arresting exploration of the horrors of jealousy, outrage at betrayal, the self-distructive nature of revenge and the heartache of suspicions of sexual inadequacy, and whilst occasionally its nonsensical juxtaposition of reams of bad language, awkward silence, flashback, irrelevance and comedy unintentionally disrupts its flow – and its use of fantastical sequences eventually frays at the edges by going on far too long – the film is consistently both tragic and funny, with a soundtrack which hits very rare heights of original composition, and is well worth the admittance. It’s far from perfect, but my judgements are clouded by its status as yet another victim of unrealistic expectations. However much I tried to restrain my sense of anticipation as our tickets were collected by the smiley girl at top of the escalator at the Leicester Square Vue – one of the few theatres we could find still showing the film less than a fortnight after it opened – and entered the small auditorium, I was still partly hoping we’d get another Sexy Beast, particularly with Winstone and McShane starting and executive producing. It is of course no real criticism that 44-inch Chest didn’t achieve the glorious heights of the 2001 classic, which I believe more closely resembles a candidate for best British film of all time as each year passes without a viable successor, and I think it represents a more than decent companion to Glazer’s film. I certainly hope there will be more. Winstone is of course brilliant, as you would expect. As elsewhere his physical power is contrasted by his character’s emotional vulnerability and fading vigour to mesmerising effect. McShane too is great; a character far camper than his last outing as a homosexual gangster, less magnetic and yet more appealing, despite his hedonism and vanity, but somehow also the purveyor of occasionally stark wisdom. Near the start of the film a brief encounter with an almost entirely inconsequential character had me in stitches, and Stephen Dillane impressed as the hilarious but entirely twisted friend egging Winstone’s character Colin on towards murder, whilst simultaneously finding great delight in ridiculing his betrayal. The scenes mapping the jealous delusions of Colin’s booze soaked, green-eyed and worn-out mind are occasionally brilliant, as in the sudden manifestation of his long-standing but until recently sunken suspicions of Dillane’s character, Mal. But the dream-like sequences are also occasionally dull, sometimes a bit too silly and go on for too long. Perhaps crucially, I was more than aware of the point of this film, but still craved a different and far more sanguine outcome, so perhaps it could have been more effective at delivering its message. Though my companion found the moment of physical affection between Winstone and his victorious sexual rival comforting and heart-warming, I couldn’t stomach the sight of a broken man showing such terrific weakness around his rightful enemy, although this may be in part linked to my mind’s occasional and laughable conviction that Ray Winstone – or more accurately the characters he plays – is/are somehow my father-in-law, and therefore deserving of an unquestioning and violent sense of loyalty. I’ve probably been watching too many films; I certainly ought to give my regular evangelical screenings of Sexy Beast to the thus far unenlightened a bit of a break. In all you can probably wait until the DVD to see 44-inch Chest, especially as chances of seeing it in the big screen seem to have largely disappeared, but it’s definitely worth catching up with at some point. However, don’t hestitate to download the album: the work of Lynch-favourite Angelo Badalamenti and Massive Attack has provided one of the best soundtrack collaborations in some time.
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