London Boulevard (*½)
Directed by: William Monahan
Starring: Collin Farrell, Keira Knightley, Ray Winstone, David
Thewliss, Anna Friel, Ben Chaplin, Eddie Marsan, Sanjeev Bhaskar, Ophelia
Lovibond, Stephen Graham
Seen: September 2nd 2011
*½ Out of ****
London Boulevard is Snatch without the biting and hilarious humour,
without the wit, and without the intensely involving plot. In other words, it’s
a movie you would rather not see. It’s not as viscerally dirty as Trainspotting
by a long shot, but definitely not for children if you consider the language. I
find it almost timidly dirty, with heaps of very bad language but little else
by way of violence or gore – most beatings and killings occur just off screen, but
leaving no doubt as to what happened. Colin Farrell does a good job of carrying
the movie, and Ray Winstone’s Rob Gant is a quietly terrifying man, but Keira
Knightley’s bland Charlotte has you wishing for Ophelia Lovibond’s Penny to
return to the story or for more of the brilliant David Thewliss’ Jordan or Anna
Friel’s surprising Briony (I say surprising as this character is about as far a
departure as you’re likely to see from her portrayal of Charlotte in the quirky
TV drama Pushing Daisies).
Upon his release from prison, Mitchell (Farrell) prefers to get completely
out of crime, but his only fall-back for accommodation and re-integration into
society is the inept Billy (Chaplin), who somehow manages to get an unwilling
Mitchell on the radar of criminal boss Gant. Searching for an honest job,
Mitchell is employed as bodyguard and handyman for Charlotte, a famous but
reclusive film star known for her risky acting. Charlotte’s business manager is
Jordan, who also never goes out, and looks like a sort of a failure from the 60’s.
Mitchell has contacts here and there, including Joe, an old homeless man who he
cares for more than the movie explains why, and who turns out to be the
catalyst for Mitchell’s unravelling when he is brutally assaulted and dies. Mitchell
states that he refuses to go back to prison, but he has very few qualms about
beating up anyone who rubs him even slightly the wrong way, and he almost goes
as far as committing murder.
All the while he looks after Charlotte, taking her to her country
house to break away from the city, with paparazzi on their trail wherever they’re
not locked up indoors. The annoying freelance photographers are after
Charlotte, but that doesn’t stop them from being very straight forward with Mitchell, which
leads to one of the few satisfying moments of the movie. Charlotte, married, is
also estranged from said husband, of whom only a photo is shown in the movie,
and her reputation in this regard is not as clean as she might have hoped for. Obviously
she falls for her new bodyguard, not knowing about his dubious dealings with,
and later against, Gant.
London Boulevard is a waste of time, and as I’m writing this review 4
days after having seen the movie (I couldn’t be bothered to rush to this
review), I’m finding it difficult remembering anything more than broad plot
points and a few quiet moments in the movie, the story having made practically no
impact in its convoluted plodding. In fact, in a few years I might have to read
this review again to try to remember anything at all about London Boulevard.
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