Actually, one feels all too alive when gaping incredulously at witless, fatuous, ludicrously unnecessary lumber like this. Someone or something, however, clearly spoke to Hurt, Ifans and Skinner persuasively enough that they've gamely debased themselves in this ridiculous pastiche bank job thriller. Most remarkable is the preposterously baroque flashback-and-forward-and-inside-out narrative structure in which, to cut a lot of crap short, two bowler-hatted wasters (Ifans, Schneider) spring an ageing con (Hurt) to abet their raid. After it all goes wrong a corrupt cop (Benfield) vies with a mysterious private agency chief (Flynn) to piece things together. Director Hurst starts out with dead bodies, flaming banknotes and the sort of grandiose orchestral swell usually found at the finale of the more shameless Hollywood thriller, leaving nowhere to go but over the top.