The thin line between humour and offensive
Guy Ritchie’s style of filming is so distinctive that it can in itself be considered an adjective.
That’s so Guy Ritchie!
It’s the Guy Ritchie touch!
I want to film it like Guy Ritchie!
Okay, well maybe those are slight exaggerations, as frankly, I have never heard anyone say those, but it does not make the point any less true. Throughout his years in cinema, Ritchie has formed a stylistic narrative technique that is all his own. Notable for classics such as Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch, followed by more recent, but no less entertaining films like Sherlock Holmes, a remake of The Man from U.N.C.L.E, and King Arthur. His style is characterised by plays on chronology, flashbacks, perspectives and timing amongst many other techniques, that culminate to create a very persuasive and engaging watch. Though Ritchie’s movies are often described as a movie for ‘guys’ (pun intended) probably because of the frequent use of violence and swearing, it is nevertheless a style of filming many can get on board with.
This is definitely the case with Ritchie’s latest release, The Gentlemen, which he wrote, directed and produced. Unsurprisingly, given both the title and the statistics from previous films, the cast of the movie is majority male, save the fabulous Michelle Dockery who plays Matthew McConaughey’s wife. Additionally, the films attempt at diversity falls flat alongside its rather aggressive casual racism.
The film hinges mostly on McConaughey’s character, Mickey Pearson, as the head of a highly lucrative, and highly illegal, marijuana growing and selling business, who runs into complications when he considers hanging up the towel and retiring to the English countryside with his badass, slightly dominatrix-esq, all-female garage-running wife (Dockery). He is faced with attempts to topple his empire before he has even left the game. His right-hand man, Raymon, played blackmailed, played by the wonderful, sweater-wearing Charlie Hunnam is being blackmailed by the goatee wearing Hugh Grant, who plays a morally questionable personal investigator, Fletcher.
The accounts of Pearson’s attempt to sell his business to fellow American, played by Jeremy Strong, is recounted to both Raymond and the audience by Fletcher, with numerous sleazy and uncouth advances towards Hunnam’s character being made in between, who threatens to publish the story, thereby exposing Person’s gangster enterprise, unless paid £2 million.
Much of the cast is made up of A-listers, many of whom have worked with Ritchie in the past and give the impression that the entire film was just a bunch of dudes coming together to have a laugh. Indeed, though incredibly stylistic, the narrative point very often seems quite irrelevant behind the heavy action, quick wit and mischievous, if not blatant and unapologetic, offensiveness.
I cannot deny that, despite the offensive nature of much of the dialogue, I found The Gentlemen incredibly enjoyable to watch, which left asking myself whether the casual racism, sexism and homophobia is excused when used as a comedic tactic? Are audiences willing to forgive the deeper cuts if the humour pay off is high enough? For many, the answer is no. Indeed, many reviews point out that this nostalgic return to Ritchie’s Lock, Stock origins comes across as quite dated. Karen Han draws parallels to the metaphorical argument in the movie of whether it is the young or the strong who come out on top to say, ‘when it comes to Guy Ritchie’s trajectory as a director, it seems that the rules aren’t mutually exclusive. Ritchie is no longer the strongest beast in the forest, and he’s aging out of the game, too.’
Indeed, Brian Lowry makes the point that ‘Ritchie’s approach clearly isn’t for everybody, and at times his work appears so enamored with itself — elevating style over substance — there’s the risk of getting high on one’s own supply.’ The racist slew regarding Henry Golding’s character, Dry-Eye, and his band of ‘chinaman’ companions (Golding is Malysian-American) seems so entertained with itself that it is wholly overplayed, where the blether and wordplay regarding one of Dry-Eye’s henchmen’s name, Phuc, spans over 15 minutes.
At another occasion, the Coach, Colin Firth’s character (and probably the best character in the film) has to explain to one of his young protege who comes to his boxing gym why being called a ‘black c**t’ is a term of endearment and not racist. Again, while amusing, it was a tad uncomfortable in that it felt quite apologetic, whitewashing and dismissive of the possible underlying racial motivations. Indeed, it does not help that the roles taken on by any actors of colour in the film are either in the position of villains, sidekicks, or foolish football hooligans. Richard Lawson makes the comparison that Ritchie’s attempt to conjure up the allure of old is ‘like the aging comedian who complains that his medium is suddenly under attack when the reality is that he’s just not very funny anymore. (If he ever was.) Things have moved on, and the provocations of old have lost all their heady snap. (If they ever had it.)’
After a long monologue where Pearson blames East Asians for the heroin and cocaine trade making it very clear who the ‘heroes’ are supposed to be in this ensemble of morally dubious men: the white gangsters. It seems to be that Ritchie has a very specific worldview that he peddles, whereby, ‘[b]y Ritchie’s logic, white weed kingpins are entrepreneurs with the moral high ground; Asian heroin-pushers are “the killers of worlds”; and junkies are rich kids who “choose squalor” and are “drowning in white liberal guilt”’, says Simran Hans.
In summary, David Fear sums it up best by saying that ‘When all else fails, which is roughly 75 percent of the time, The Gentlemen relies on star power, violence, and the pleasure of watching dapper men in well-tailored fits do very bad things’ and while not award-winning, it does not mean that it can be enjoyable, that is if you have a lax sense of humour enough to ignore the outrageous provocations intended to be so only for provocations sake.
~S~
Featured Image by Ben Rosett on Unsplash
