44 Inch Chest (2009)

Well ... I've always joked to friends that I'd happily pay to watch Ray Winstone cooking beans on toast. He's perhaps best known here in Oz for the wonderful Vincent, but has been a real favourite for me since his early work.

However, if he'd got the saucepan and can-opener out at some stage in these proceedings, it could only have improved things.

The opening scene is compelling, with Winstone sprawled semi-conscious on the floor amidst the wreckage of a family living room. As if the poor fellow clearly hadn't suffered enough already (even if we aren't yet privy to the particulars of his situation), the almost-forgotten hideousness of Nilsson's Without You provides perfect background music.

Our hero's friends and family rally round in this time of crisis and there's some diverting argy-bargy (amid fantastic London locations) as our group of protagonists is assembled. This stage-setting phase of the movie concludes with the group's arrival at a grimy terraced house - I use that phrase intentionally because at this point the film effectively becomes a conventional play spread over two locations.

This terrific cast never exceeds or even equals the sum of its parts amid production values that call to mind BBC's Play For Today in the 70s and early 80s. RADA's likely advice from an earlier period for portraying cockneys also seems have been in play - drop yourself about 3 social classes and 50 IQ points and you'll be fine, love.

It's no mean feat to tell a fulfilling story within a bubble such as the one created here, and it doesn't really come off - we never learn enough about the relationships between the players or the context that surrounds some of the remarks that are made.

Yes, Winstone's character is supposed to be confused, I do understand that, but I don't believe the audience should be sharing in that affliction.

Stephen Dillane impresses but John Hurt's wasted here, and with his ill-fitting dentures (at least I ASSUME that's what they are ... ) he channels Phil Davis doing his best Albert Steptoe impersonation at one of Mike Leigh's Christmas parties.

The one lasting benefit for me is that I might just tone down my own bad language a little. They just don't stop in this film. Everyone knows that a well-deployed swear word can have massive impact but this dialogue is peppered with Anglo-Saxon to the point where it rapidly becomes not only meaningless but irritating.

I suspect I sounded a little like this at the footy the night before, and I can only promise my neighbours I'll try to be better in future ... if that works I'll tell my daughter she should seriously think about doing the same!

Fmovies: First, since perspective counts, I am a woman. I suspect that my being a woman is part of the reason that I like this film more than "Sexy Beast"---which usually gets more stars. "44 Inch Chest" is a lot like one of those movies where sorority sisters get together after 20 years apart and spill their guts and all walk away feeling better about themselves and each other, because they are no longer pretending. Except in this film, the "sorority sisters" are underworld criminals who like to say "f--k" a lot. I say "f--k" a lot, too, so I never felt like getting up and leaving the theater, because of the profanity. And a good thing, too. Because the last ten minutes or so of this movie are among the most powerful and true that I have ever seen.

Women are not the only one's who hate themselves. And, by hating themselves, I mean hating their emotions. It is just that men and women are taught to hate different emotions. Women are allowed to grieve but not to express anger. That is why somewhere near the end of a chick flick, all the women get mad. Really mad. And then they laugh and feel so much better.

In the case of men, anger is 100% fine. But men are not allowed to grieve. So, we see a roomful of tough guys do what guys are supposed to do---get brutal. And brutal again. And brutal some more---- Until the end, when we realize that all that anger and brutality is meant to hide the sorrow and tears that men are never supposed to shed.

Ian McShane is wonderful in this movie, in large part, because he plays a character who knows himself. And who is gently nudging the hero, Ray Winstone to know himself, too. That makes McShane the Master and Winstone the monk in need of enlightenment. Enlightenment, when it comes, is painful, but it feels good, too.

If the violence in this film failed to satisfy, maybe it is because the violence was never meant to satisfy. Maybe the film maker's goal all along was to make us cry.

(I saw this at the Sydney Film Festival, but IMDb has it as "in production", so I may have seen an incomplete version.) The pitch would have been something like "Reservoir Dogs meets Last Orders". From Reservoir Dogs we get the basic set-up of a bunch of crooks played by fine actors meeting in a lock-up and debating what to do with their captive, plus an enigmatic title and a flashback structure. From Last Orders comes a group of top-notch actors clearly enjoying themselves in a brown, downbeat London.

Some of the dialogue is fun if you like expletives spat out in poetry-like rhythms. There are good jokes and the acting is, as you'd expect from this lot, pretty fine. I was particularly pleased to see Stephen Dillane get his chance to prove himself cinematically after such an impressive theatrical career.

The downside is the plot, or rather the lack of it. The basic premise is laid out early on in the piece, and there is no real conflict to maintain our interest. Contrast the uniformity of opinion here with the combustible dynamics of Mr Blond, Mr White et al and the problem is clear. Some dream sequences intended to open the tale out feel forced, and a couple of minor twists are inconsequential.

If this script had been produced with a younger group of unknown actors it might get hailed for its promise. With this cast, 44 Inch Chest can only be counted a disappointment.

44 Inch Chest fmovies. I really didn't think I would be writing a poor review about a movie with Winstone, Hurt, McShane, Wilkinson and the still beautiful Joanne Whalley as central characters.

However, this was just a waste of their talents and a boring film to boot. Its a talkfest so if you don't fancy the idea of almost all of the film consisting of dialogue in one room, this ain't for you. I liked the Before Sunrise and Before sunset movies with Ethan Hawke, these were talkfests too but they had a point and the characters were clearly defined.

In this movie, you don't really know enough about anyone to really care, you don't know if Ray Winstone really is a bad husband and how well his gangster mates know him and why they know him which is important in the whole witch hunt that takes place.

The writers for this wrote the excellent sexy beast and it looks like they didn't have anything left creatively here. Does every UK movie have to have a gangster undercurrent, its so overdone and this didn't help here, neither did the excessive swearing, I'm no prude, but it just wasn't warranted, if that was meant to portray Winstone;s mates as real hard cases, it didn't work.

And the ending was the biggest disappointment of all, I ended up looking around in astonishment, asking "is that it then"? It made all of what we had seen in the previous 85 minutes redundant.

i really love this film and would say its rays best without doubt,this isn't a gangster film ,this isn't an action film,its a story and not just a story ,its a story that seems real.the script is top notch ,the direction is world class, the acting perfect.john hurts character is now one of my fav all time characters in any film and his profomance lives up to the character.

i really hate how movies these days are about non stop action and no story yet people love them,the days of real acting is gone,classic films are not watched anymore,the days of the proformance making a film are over,well this gem has taken me back to the golden age.

this should win awards

It's so simple, but just fantastic. Dump of a warehouse, cheated husband,5 faithful friends( thugs or thugs wannabe's), and funny, brilliantly profane, smart script and actors to die for.If you are easily offended with cussing( and I never understood the nation appalled with word f..k, and in the same time in exaltation with violence in their favorite sports and news), just miss this movie. It just isn't for you and your ilk. This is a treatise on machismo and marriage and friendship, and it shows why man are the weaker sex. After all the bluster and violence, what stays is bottomless sadness. This is not "Sexy Beast", it is much better and deeper. Just fantastic...It just proves my point that I've been informed that my review contains a prohibited word. If I owned 20 guns and rifles, nobody would care. But a word that describes a common sexual practice scares everybody.