From the off it's clear at once that Jonathan Glazer will be a ballsy, switched-on film-maker: Winstone's belly burns in the Spanish sun, an ice-cold flannel slyly folded over his privates - and then an a boulder bumps down the hill and bounces over the oblivious ex-villain's head to splashland in the swimming pool. The verve isn't so surprising, but Glazer goes on to prove that he's got much more than flash in his arsenal. A macabre comedy played out in deadly earnest, this has dramatic heft and tension. Kingsley's bald and beady-eyed Don Logan is so tightly wrapped in his neuroses, he's an alien in any social context, a monster in a man's skin. Easy to believe Winstone's scared to death of this maggot. The first two thirds of this superbly acted film is dynamite, even as nothing happens, really. Gal (Winstone) and wife Deedee (Redman) play reluctant hosts to Don, who's intent on bringing Gal back to London for a big score. Gal refuses. Don insists. The tension racks up until something has to give, but you'll be hard pressed to guess how and where the break will come.