Back to the Windsor Cinema in Nedlands and not much has changed
since catching The King's Speech in 2010 or 2011. I reckon
Merv and I were among the youngest punters there, and we're not exactly
gambolling lambs anymore. But this demographic was pretty apt for King
of Thieves, the latest film to explore old spivs getting older and trying
to stay relevant. This iteration is based on the true story of the Hatton
Garden safe deposit robbery in London in 2015. It stars Michael Caine, Tom
Courtenay, Jim Broadbent, Ray Winstone and Paul Whitehouse ('I was very, very
drunk') as the geriatric villains who come together at Caine's wife's funeral.
A positively pubescent Charlie Cox instigates the gig.
The heist premise of King of
Thieves has been done before, even factoring in the 'grey pound'
aspect. It's not the most original film but it's worth the ticket price just to
hear Caine and gang effing and jeffing all over the place. It's actually quite
close to a geezah version of Caine's other recent musings on ageing, the Paolo
Sorrentino directed, Youth. Close but so, so far away.
The director is James Marsh, who has some solid pedigree with
films such as Shadow Dancer, The Theory of Everything and Project Nim to his credit. There's some nice dialogue that sometimes, just
occasionally, tips over into unlikely adjective territory. The actors iron out
any rough edges though. Just great to watch these old pros work with halfway
decent material. Oddly, Charlie Cox's character's final act seems out of place,
though I'm guessing at this point the director wanted to focus on the golden
oldies. Incidentally, this character isn't mentioned in official dispatches of
the actual crime.
Some other points to note - The drilling through the wall is
similar (though more watery) to the heist in Sexy Beast, another
Ray Winstone film. I also quite liked the flashback scenes, especially the ones with
the actors in films from their younger days. The highlight for me, though, is
all the Cockney wide boy phrases, such as, "We gave him a drink",
"That's put the kibosh on it" and my personal favourite, "He's
lost his arsehole". Can't really argue with a film littered with this type
of poetry.
See also:
Certainly, Jonathan Glazer's Sexy Beast (2000),
one of the best British crime films of all time. And have a crack at another
James Marsh film, Man on Wire (2008), if your knees don't go
wobbly.
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