THE GENTLEMEN: NO EMBARRASSMENT OF RITCHIE’S

It’s no embarrassment of Ritchie’s, THE GENTLEMEN is a welcome return to form by Guy Ritchie, a lock, stock and several smoking barrels of eloquent, elegant, swellegant screenwriting, cinema craft, and star power delivery.

Matthew McConaughey plies his southern comfort charm as a Mickey Pearson, ex pat Yank and Britain’s big wig in bush, aka England’s green and pleasant, aka marijuana.

Mickey’s making retirement plans, setting to selling his stupendous business for a whopping superannuation to Cannabis Kingpin Mathew played by Jeremy Strong.

Before the deal of deals go through, there is a breach in Pearson’s security, possibly orchestrated by Henry Golding’s up and coming crime boss.

In a piece of casting genius, Colin Farrell’s coach, a tough love gym owner whose proteges try to please to the point of overweening overreach gets caught up in the grass gangland farce and is forced to aid and abet it’s come full circle denouement.

Toff guy tough guys permeate this picture with some career best performances from a top notch ensemble that includes Eddie Marsan as a Murdoch like media muckraker.

Michelle Dockery plays Mickey’s wife, a shrewd business woman and not just some gangsta moll, an equal partner in the in the establishment and upkeep of the empire.

Mickey’s henchman, played by Charlie Hunnam, is more Twenty First Century Jeeves than Jaws, but a gentleman’s gentleman with as much butcher as butler.

In a delicious bit of ironic casting, Hugh Grant is Fletcher a grubby gutter press journo, a gutter snipe scoop merchant not above a bit of the old blackmail and coercion. It’s a role Grant gives full grunt too, relishing this career resurrecting role for all its tasty triumphals.

Farrell and Grant are alone worth the price of admission and the two hours of your time, but the whole is greater than even these pitch perfect parts.

What can one say but go and see THE GENTLEMEN – it’s Guy Ritchie back on track, an all is forgiven return of the prodigal, back to his turf, his movie manor, a gentleman’s agreement to gear up the genre he cut his teeth on.