If you had to cast a tragic hero, a tough guy haunted by a violent past, driven by circumstances to redemption in the midst of moral emptiness and criminal depravity would you choose Vinnie Jones? No, me neither
As Johnny Doyle, Vinnie manages three states: 1. bewildered (whether it's required by the script or not), 2. blank (notably in moments of intended emotional engagement) and 3. angry (this could also be referred to as "the grimace").
Lennox Lewis as "DJ Ras", top Rastafarian, has even less range - one state only. He shares Vinnie's number 2. It's numbing to watch.
And if you employ a fine actor like Eriq La Salle to play Julius, a sleazy, brutal, murdering, drug dealing low-life yardie, living in a derelict crack den in the only graffiti-blitzed house in a suburban terrace somewhere in "Brixton" would you sabotage his performance by dressing him like a middle management executive? Admittedly he has some bling around his neck and fingers, but his general presentation is just about right for the club house at his local golf club.
La Salle does bring moments of real menace and a sense of depth to Julius, but it's never sustained by the script. At one point La Salle's character is so evil that he withholds a bag of heroin from his junkie girlfriend Rita, (Samantha Mumba), until she is forced to (wait for it ) kiss him on the lips, her humiliation witnessed passionlessly by Johnny (Vinnie, state 2). Where would Tarantino have taken a scene like that? Ah well.
Rita, the fittest, plumpest, healthiest junkie I've ever seen, sleepwalks from one encounter with Johnnie to the next. She's meant to have a heart of gold, because she used to be a nurse and she's nice to wounded people, but it's hard to tell because most of the time she looks bored. What a spiv like Julius sees in her is just one more mystery in a narrative that is very short on motivation for all but Patrick Bergin's unrepentant terrorist "Flynn".
As Flynn, Bergin shovels on his back-story in an OTT parody of a Northern Irish hard man, his acting as arch as his dialogue. He bludgeons his way through every scene he's in. Sometimes Vinnie shouts back at him - which is not a good idea - it seems to encourage new levels of sneering and eye-rolling.
Lost in the underwritten background of "Johnny Was" is an ill-at-ease Roger Daltrey cameo which is meant to be "hard" but isn't; an insignificant young sidekick for the escaped terrorist who's uselessly around for the duration; and the odd stereotypical good mate, thug or low-life, all by-the-numbers and forgettable.
The plot depends on meaningless deceits, incredible twists and gullible people. Characters appear and disappear just to help the exposition of a scene, or to inject some arbitrary plot point. People suddenly have guns or knives, or bombs. The action (mostly shooting) just happens. It's all played in a monotone. Even the photography is flat, neither stylised or natural. It would all be fun if there was a tongue in a cheek somewhere, or a modicum of style, but there isn't.
And then there's the ending. Oh dear.
What I can't understand is, what makes this a "movie" at all? The cast of C-list celebrities? An average episode of The Sweeney (or even current fluff like BBC's "Hustle") has better writing, production, direction and personality.
As Johnny Doyle, Vinnie manages three states: 1. bewildered (whether it's required by the script or not), 2. blank (notably in moments of intended emotional engagement) and 3. angry (this could also be referred to as "the grimace").
Lennox Lewis as "DJ Ras", top Rastafarian, has even less range - one state only. He shares Vinnie's number 2. It's numbing to watch.
And if you employ a fine actor like Eriq La Salle to play Julius, a sleazy, brutal, murdering, drug dealing low-life yardie, living in a derelict crack den in the only graffiti-blitzed house in a suburban terrace somewhere in "Brixton" would you sabotage his performance by dressing him like a middle management executive? Admittedly he has some bling around his neck and fingers, but his general presentation is just about right for the club house at his local golf club.
La Salle does bring moments of real menace and a sense of depth to Julius, but it's never sustained by the script. At one point La Salle's character is so evil that he withholds a bag of heroin from his junkie girlfriend Rita, (Samantha Mumba), until she is forced to (wait for it ) kiss him on the lips, her humiliation witnessed passionlessly by Johnny (Vinnie, state 2). Where would Tarantino have taken a scene like that? Ah well.
Rita, the fittest, plumpest, healthiest junkie I've ever seen, sleepwalks from one encounter with Johnnie to the next. She's meant to have a heart of gold, because she used to be a nurse and she's nice to wounded people, but it's hard to tell because most of the time she looks bored. What a spiv like Julius sees in her is just one more mystery in a narrative that is very short on motivation for all but Patrick Bergin's unrepentant terrorist "Flynn".
As Flynn, Bergin shovels on his back-story in an OTT parody of a Northern Irish hard man, his acting as arch as his dialogue. He bludgeons his way through every scene he's in. Sometimes Vinnie shouts back at him - which is not a good idea - it seems to encourage new levels of sneering and eye-rolling.
Lost in the underwritten background of "Johnny Was" is an ill-at-ease Roger Daltrey cameo which is meant to be "hard" but isn't; an insignificant young sidekick for the escaped terrorist who's uselessly around for the duration; and the odd stereotypical good mate, thug or low-life, all by-the-numbers and forgettable.
The plot depends on meaningless deceits, incredible twists and gullible people. Characters appear and disappear just to help the exposition of a scene, or to inject some arbitrary plot point. People suddenly have guns or knives, or bombs. The action (mostly shooting) just happens. It's all played in a monotone. Even the photography is flat, neither stylised or natural. It would all be fun if there was a tongue in a cheek somewhere, or a modicum of style, but there isn't.
And then there's the ending. Oh dear.
What I can't understand is, what makes this a "movie" at all? The cast of C-list celebrities? An average episode of The Sweeney (or even current fluff like BBC's "Hustle") has better writing, production, direction and personality.