Revolver

Before I say anything else, I’ll say this. Just because you don’t understand a film doesn’t mean that it’s not great. Maybe you’ve had a bad day at work, or you sat down to watch a film after you had a row with your wife and then weren’t in the mood. Maybe there’s a more fundamental stumbling block- like you just don’t have the mental capacity or a highly enough developed philosophical sense to engage with it. BUT. And this is a very, very big but. The XXL elephant-sized mega-but to end all buts.

PLEASE don’t confuse incoherence for complexity, and please don’t confuse this two hour non-squirter for an interesting film. Really. You may think you are pretty smart. You may even think of yourself as somewhat of a romantic figure: an independent thinker championing a masterpiece against a chorus of sheep-like naysayers. Please don’t. You’re embarrassing yourself.

Revolver’s a waste of everyone’s time. If you thought about if for a few minutes, you’d recognise it too. It was a waste of the cast, a waste of the crew, a waste of the caterers, and definitely a waste of the precious minutes (you can’t get them back you know) of anyone unlucky enough to sit through this unutterable, wretched mess.

“No – wait,” comes a voice in the darkness. “You just don’t understand. Its NON-LINEAR. That means the story doesn’t go in a STRAIGHT LINE. This is actually the COMPLEX and SUBTLE work of an AUTEUR. It addresses difficult EXISTENTIAL questions. And anyway – they slated FIGHT CLUB when it first came out – didn’t you hear? -Because they couldn’t deal with the COMPLEXITY. They’re eating humble pie now. Bet you hate Lynch films too, doncha?”

Hate to disappoint you, but I am quite a big Lynch fan. I rather like Memento, so a narrative told in an unconventional fashion doesn’t necessarily fill me with fear. And although I’ve only studied it briefly a few years ago, philosophy interests me greatly. I don’t dislike Revolver for these reasons. I dislike it because it purports to be about weighty, big-brained topics but deals with them in such an insultingly superficial way as to be laughable. I’m not much of a chess player, but Richie’s idea of how chess works seems to be that of a precocious four year old. I dislike it because the characters, without exception, totally alienated me. “Aha!” cries the Richie apologist. “Guy is cleverly tipping his hat to Brecht!” Just maybe you’re right. I think its more likely that he just can’t write a decent script for toffee.

Comparing Revolver with Fight Club is actually really instructive. Fight Club has acid-tongued, nihilistic dialogue that makes you laugh. Revolver has stale fortune cookie reject one-liners that make your ears bleed. Fight Club has a great twist that makes you reassess everything that has happened. Revolver has, as far as I can tell, several incomprehensible twists that offer no satisfaction because… well, they don’t make sense. If you keep pulling the rug out from under people, they eventually kick you out of their house. And then they lock all the doors and windows. And they never let you back in. Ever.

Guy Richie seems to assume that being philosophical entails repeating a mantra of little buzz-phrases. Mostly they are spoken, but often they flash up on the screen with attributions. It’s almost pathological.

But what makes this film particularly notable is the way in which something so incomprehensible can be married so neatly with all tired gangster clichés in the world. Ultimately its so inconsequential. You don’t care about anything. You don’t understand anything. You go home.

Actually, there was a bit I really liked: the uptight assassin who has a crisis of confidence. He’s great. But I can’t recommend you see the film just to see him. He’s only in it for a few minutes.

Please believe me. It’s horrible.