Critique: Film> Reviews.

I'm pretty sure that Ben Kingsley's terrifying performance means that he's the beast of the show, but as to who the sexy one is? Hmm, I must be missing something here.

It's not like I could fail to notice Ray Winstone tanning in a pair of yellow Speedos in the opening scene -- it's just that he doesn't do anything for me.

Film wise, it's hardly orgasmic either.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed Sexy Beast (even if that does sound a little wrong), but if I was forced to distinguish the influence it had upon me by expressing my deepest emotions in the form of a love poem, or simply adding another notch to my bedpost, it would have to be the latter.

In other words: Sexy Beast is good for filling a cheeky hour or so, but it's hardly a film that has such a profound effect upon you that you will remember it for the rest of your life. In some instances, it's really quite dull.

Easily the most memorable scenes are those with Kingsley at the forefront. He plays organized crime boss Don Logan: a bald, foulmouthed psychotic, who travels all the way to Spain to bully his retired, ex-partner Gal (Winstone) into doing one final score for the criminal underworld. His team proposes a bank heist back in London, and Don, especially, isn't about to let him trade his gangster roots for a life in the sun with his porn star girlfriend.

Don harasses Gal to the point that the audience begins to despise the manipulative personality of this intense lunatic. Kingsley is so convincing in his verbal exchanges that it becomes difficult to imagine this is the same man that also played Ghandi -- a spiritual leader who based his ideas around non-violence -- in one of his early films. A sign of a very good actor, it must be.

It's just a shame that there isn't much else particularly memorable in Sexy Beast. Visually, there are obvious comparisons between the sunny, open mountains of Spain with the dark, grainy look of the London Underworld; plot wise, nothing ever really happens; and the other characters seem as if they're there purely for Kingsley to feed his temperament.

Though, having said that, I suppose that's the whole point.

Kingsley's performance wouldn't have been quite as mesmerising if he had been given less space to perform by the supporting cast. Even with the ridiculous title, he takes to the stage in an incredibly slick and serious manner. This is his movie, so I guess that must mean he's the "Sexy Beast" of the bunch, then?

Meh. Answers on a postcard, please?

(C) Andy Carrington, 2009.