Director: Guy Ritchie
Starring: Jason Statham, Brad Pitt, Benicio Del Toro, Dennis Farina, Vinnie Jones, Rade Serbedzija, Alan Ford

The British film industry was a safe place to be a couple of years ago. Apart from the odd steel worker getting his gear out for the ladies, there was no danger in sight, and no real excitement — and then came ‘Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels’. With its ultra-stylised direction, big soundtrack and supercool dialogue, ‘Lock, Stock’ was a marketer’s dream — it was the film on which Cool Brittania could hang on the coat tails. Despite protestations that its laddish affectations and overlit bar scenes saw the film play out as an extended Heineken ad, Guy Ritchie’s debut spawned a monster: it was the film of the New Lad.

To the present day, and Ritchie attempts to follow up a cultural icon with, well, more of the same, only bigger, brasher, darker and cooler. Sticking with what he knows, this is another yarn of coincidence and stupidity in the London underworld, only with a much more spectacular cast.

The farce kicks off with Franky Four Fingers (Del Toro) heisting a diamond eas big as your fist’ from Belgium, with intent to make American dealer Avi (Farina) very happy. Stopping off in London with the rock in a case cuffed to his wrist, Franky is sidetracked by his love for a good gambleOe Turkish (Statham), an unlicensed boxing promoter, is warming one of his boxers up for a fight against the stable of Brick Top (Ford), a nasty gangster with a penchant for piggery. Deciding that he needs a new caravan to work from, he arranges to purchase one from local pikey One Punch Mickey (Pitt). Meanwhile, Avi is in London, and along with the nutcase assistance of Bullet Tooth Tony (Jones), there’s a missing diamond to be found.

Treading a fine line between farce and thriller, Ritchie’s world is populated by cartoon nutters who turn from wisecracking blokes to psychos with razor blades at the blink of an eyelid. Of course, Vinnie Jones is never going to hint at any sort of depth in any character he portrays, but the real surprise is the power of Pitt’s performance. Like Tyler Durden with a comedy Irish accent a thousand times worse than the one he attempted in ‘The Devil’s Own’, Pitt is wickedly funny as the mischievous bare-knuckle boxing gypsy, but when Brick Top’s overzealous use of muscle shatters his world, and that of his caravan community, the real actor in him comes out, and the mix of menace and dread beneath the playful pikey’s surface bubbles over in the sweaty surrealism of the boxing ring.

Like a British Tarantino with more eye candy, Ritchie uses the same tricks as ‘Lock, Stock’ to liven up the party — the hyper-kinetic editing and woozy movements through freeze frames are tricks which several films and countless ads have attempted (and failed) to imitate. In a strange alternative world where the female is practically non-existent, his lads and hardcases play out the farce with a sense of inevitability.

The problem with ‘Snatch’ is that, for all Ritchie’s eye popping ability as a director, there isn’t exactly much scope in his writing. While the dialogue is witty and cutting, and the plot is sharp and spritely, we are treading over exactly the same territory as ‘Lock, Stock’, only it’s no longer fresh and exciting. There’s nothing inherently wrong with resorting to extreme violence and gags about dead bodies for a laugh, but it tends to signify a writer stretching for ideas.

‘Snatch’ is hilarious, stylish, and technically accomplished, and at times it lurches into incredibly dark territory, but Ritchie has used his eget out of jail free’ card to get past the difficult second movie. He won’t be allowed to get away with the same film three times in a row.