RocknRolla

I was expecting SLC Punk meets London, but what I got was as disappointing as British cuisine.

It was like some kind of homo-erotic Oliver Twist story with limited violence.  I was expecting London to be dripping with blood, and for the most part – all we got was American Crayfish and junkies strewn about with some Russian mobsters and the occasional awkward moments of, I guess it was supposed to be tension?  Who knows, and the killah of RocknRolla, there is going to be a sequel!  The Real RocknRolla – at the end this is revealed, and I was thinking, no thanks, I just wasted time and money THINKING I was going to be learning about this amazing idiot.  Jeremy Piven and Gerard Butler can’t pull this script out of the Thames, I only hope Sherlock Holmes is much better, Guy Ritchie.

Yes, ok, I will give you it had some interesting concept cinematography, but the overall package was thrown together with no symphonic balance.  Even the soundtrack sucked the big one, with the exception of the title song – and then, just barely.  The whole movie I was BEGGING for someone to kill the “RocknRolla” – who by the way was essentially an after-thought waif with so little class he might as well have been telling pimps how to run underage hoes for ACORN.

There was one cool scene, reminiscent of a Spenser, Robert B. Parker novel, where a foot chase actually winded the pursuers and pursued and you could feel it, unlike a typical Hollywood script where no one runs out of bullets, misses a high-octane shift or runs out of energy.  So, I liked that bit, but it was a two-hour movie that should have been 90 minutes at best.  I was initially bummed I missed this in theaters – this might be your thing if you like British gangster flicks lacking oomph.