- Culture
- 28 Mar 01
Surpassing even the recent Gangster No.1 in its constant use of the now apparently-acceptable 'C'-word, Mr. Madonna's follow-up to the strikingly fresh '98 mini-classic Lock Stock And Two Smoking Barrels is more of the same only better.
SNATCH
Directed by Guy Ritchie. Starring Brad Pitt, Jason Flemyng, Benicio del Toro, Dennis Farina
Surpassing even the recent Gangster No.1 in its constant use of the now apparently-acceptable 'C'-word, Mr. Madonna's follow-up to the strikingly fresh '98 mini-classic Lock Stock And Two Smoking Barrels is more of the same only better. It's not so much a plot as a pile-up of casual racial stereotypes, but despite its Little Englander mentality, it's an enjoyable slice of hokum, and every bit the equal of its predecessor.
It's a densely populated affair, which doesn't lend itself to convenient plot summary, but here goes: likely lads Turkish (Jason Statham) and Tommy (Stephen Graham) are all set to move up in the wonderful world of madcap Cockney-gangster types, thanks to a lucrative little sideline as bare-knuckle boxing promoters. However, an encounter with some dog-rough Paddy gypsies sees their fighter Gorgeous George put well and truly out of action by awesome gypsy bruiser Mickey O'Neill (Brad Pitt, in one of the most unlikely and inspired castings of all time).
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In no time, our Brit-boy heroes are trying to convince the devilish Mickey to take their fighter's place - but as consistency and sobriety wouldn't seem to be his strong points, the lads are in grave danger of being fed to the local psychopath unless Mickey goes down in the fourth round.
Meanwhile, diamond thief Franky Four Fingers (Benicio del Toro) is in London to offload some diamonds to stereotype-Jew Doug The Head (Eastenders' Mike Reid). However, Franky is about to be ambushed by Boris the Blade - then there's some small-time pawnshop owners, a tragicomic Yardie (Goldie), the inevitable Vinny Jones - and if you're wondering how the hell all this can amount to a coherent plot, fear not. Soon enough, everyone is shooting and double-crossing to beat the band, and Snatch gathers so much maniacal momentum that you can't help but marvel of its seamless marrying of pantomime and bloodthirsty genocide.
The dialogue is an absolute feast of coarse, unsubtle shotgun-blast humour, played out against a relentless bombardment of hair-raising set-pieces which reduce violence to the level of a Tom & Jerry cartoon (I mean that as a massive compliment). As calculated and mindless as it's clever and good-natured, and ten times as much fun as all its lamentable summer predecessors put together, you must grab a piece of Snatch.