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Writer-director Guy Ritchie, back on track at last. No Nietzsche quotes, no Ray Liotta. Just London's underworld, more slang than you can shake a stick at, and a handsome man (Strong) narrating it at all as the pieces fall into place. The audience gets the full story sooner than the characters, making the entire thing fun rather than boringly "twisty." And, really, Mark Strong is one handsome man.
The enterprise isn't perfect: I'm not sure why we needed Chris Brown and Jeremy Piven, the plot doesn't come together in a way that feels particularly clever, and they sort of lost me on the whole "and that's why I'm keeping the painting" monologue.
But the movie's entertaining. It moves quickly, and I find myself starting sentences with "Now, we all like a bit of the good life . . .." It's not quite a real rock'n'rolla yet, but he's getting there. I'll stay tuned for a sequel. B
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