Review of 44 Inch Chest (2009) by Alan W — 20 Oct 2009

A more claustrophobic, theatrical experience than its predecessor ["Sexy Beast"], content to allow its quintet of distinguished performers to slosh the screenplay's quotient of talk around their mouths like an especially fine vintage; at times, it feels as if we're simply party to a lock-in at some late-night Soho members' club.

[Screenwriters Louis] Mellis and [David] Scinto know how to write the oneupmanship, banter and bravado that come with this territory, but their real flair is for pointed, clipped monologue: take McShane's silky smooth account of how he came to take a Jewish crimeboss for a ride, or Hurt's blunt summary of "Samson and Delilah", which boils down to never trust a woman.

Misogyny is kept somewhere off-screen by these writers' fondness for tough, lived-in broads: Amanda Redman's contribution to "Sexy Beast" is here matched by Joanne Whalley as Winstone's supposedly faithless ex-wife.

Other areas prove more problematic, as you'd perhaps expect from something that often resembles a Pinter rewrite of "The Ladykillers"... Cracks start to appear in the narrative around the halfway mark, and - particularly after such a promising build-up - the pay-off comes as a disappointment.

Still, the supporting gallery of rogues - especially Hurt, channeling Prince Philip and Albert Steptoe through a set of ill-fitting dentures - is to be savoured, and Mellis and Scinto further their reputation as purveyors of rich, actor-friendly, scabrously funny dialogue.