The British, they do love a good heist movie; this thriller about an ex-convict (Luke Treadaway) and his mates ripping off the local drug kingpin, however, seems aimed specifically at folks who still subscribe to lad mags. Everything from the trainers-and-top-gear fetish to the big-beat techno that scores the planning montages screams late-’90s U.K. dude culture, with a large helping of homophobic banter and tough-guy posturing thrown in for good measure. The toxic chest-beating might be tolerable if this tale of vendettas and capers showed an ounce of genuine pop-pulp verve, but director Rowan Athale’s idea of panache is lifting some interrogation-room turnarounds from The Usual Suspects. It’s a waste, for sure—of talent and your time.
Follow David Fear on Twitter: @davidlfear