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This is where Eddy (Nick Moran) comes in, a mate blessed with some talent for winning at the card table. With his three best friends, Soap (Dexter Fletcher), Tom (Jason Flemyng) and Bacon (Jason Statham), the idea is that Eddy will buy into the biggest poker game around; that run by Harry. Holding onto a bundle, cobbled together from their illicit savings, Eddy enters the lion's den. Playing in a boxing ring, just one of director Guy Ritchie's imaginatively chosen locations, Eddy gets eaten alive. What makes the scene special is Tim Maurice-Jones' explosive photography, each shot taken in a manner calculated to grab the attention. With razor-sharp jumps, exaggerated speed changes and smart framing, Maurice-Jones, giving the viewer everything they need but no more, condenses the action.
Youthful verve and energetic attitude plaster Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels from one side to the other. Guy Ritchie's snaking, knotted tale is taken at breakneck pace, each narrative curve at a disaster seeking speed. Yet the production succeeds because cast and crew truly seem to believe in the project, they know just how witty the script is and they're prepared to invest their talent. In many ways the film is like a shorter, British Pulp Fiction but that's really only a starting point; Ritchie has strapped together a breath of fresh air despite, or perhaps because of, his thievery from numerous sources.
The dialogue and characters are pure home-grown, their conversation full of slang and gutter talk, their reactions mirroring a culture where guns do not proliferate. In short, Ritchie has dreamt up an engaging bunch of hard and soft men, each one unique whatever the size of their role. Reflecting the obvious care and attention paid to Ritchie's screenplay, Celestia Fox has skilfully selected the cast members for their required attributes. They really look and sound like their assigned characters, which is half of the battle. Lit up by flashes from the past, where one rubber dildo makes a cameo appearance, Moriarty exudes quiet menace; a quality shared by Big Chris (Vinnie Jones) and Rory Breaker (Vas Blackwood). You survive their company by heeding the signs.
There's just so much fun to be had with Maurice-Jones' knockabout shots and Niven Howie's spontaneous editing. This style of excitement and surprise rarely makes it into features, perhaps because Hollywood has decided that audiences want the plot telegraphed in advance. Fortunately Ritchie ensures that you don't know what's going to happen next because all options are open; it's as if none of the characters have a clue where they're going so how could we? Such an approach demands confidence, which Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels has by the lorry-load. As a film it knows exactly what it wants, which is a lead into the territory of hilarious black comedy, the realm of honest idiocy and lethal response.
Yes, it's true that we're given caricatures, rather than fully formed folk, but that's a minor point when you consider the blizzard of one-liners, bad language and violence that streams from the screen. Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels engulfs you in craziness, intending to entertain without compromise; dynamically zipping around London, the film makes a virtue of its limitations. A thumping soundtrack propels the story along its arc, technical tricks such as variable speed playback spice up the visuals and Ritchie chooses when and where to derive from his influences. All in all, this is a wonderfully amusing and captivating little gem.
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