Time Out says
A compost heap of cockney-gangster clichés and gratuitous chaos, Guy Ritchie’s transplant of his signature tough-guy posturing into the twilight zone starts out like a bid to become the U.K.’s Takashi Miike and simply winds up being a convoluted dead-end turd. The fact that this 2005 stinker is finally washing up on our shores suggests a diplomatic affront; apparently, the Brits are still bitter about the Boston Tea Party and how we bullied Blair into war, so they’re sending us the bottom of their cinematic barrel. We’re officially sorry, gents. You can stop now.
We know that one Mr. Green (Statham, modeling a lovely roadkill toupee) is eager to dish out payback to the mobster (Liotta) who sent him up the river. And it’s a safe bet that a dapper loan shark (Benjamin) and his associate (Pastore) are somehow integral to that plan…assuming they actually exist. The surprising thing is that Ritchie expects us to take all this so seriously, filling Statham’s obnoxiously omnipresent voiceovers with metaphysical chess theories and quotes from Machiavelli. Putting a lad-culture icon, a hip-hop star, a goodfella and a Soprano sidekick together in a shoot-’em-up movie might make Maxim readers giddy; believing that hollow surrealism instantly makes incoherence profound, however, is delusional.
Cast and crew