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Frank Harper's film offers itself as gritty, down-to-earth realism; but the reality is that it’s a crass, jingoistic, chauvinist fantasy.
Hooked on the gangster cliché of owing nasty ol' foreigners (in this case Russians) money after a botched drug deal, Harper (who clunkily co-writes, directs and stars as top dog Micky Mannock) subscribes to a disturbingly insular view of the world - especially in his attitude towards Britishness and women, the latter portrayed with sneery contempt.
Not even the formidable presence of Charles Dance can salvage a script this woeful.
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