January 19, 2001 | And now for something not completely different: British writer-director Guy Ritchie makes lightning strike twice with Snatch, a sensationally stylish and darkly hilarious crime story that adheres to the same explosively potent formula that propelled his debut feature, the razzle-dazzling Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels.
Once again, Ritchie has greedily ransacked assorted pop-culture sources – everything from Quentin Tarantino to Damon Runyon, from ‘30s gangster melodramas to ‘70s blaxploitation flicks – to concoct a crafty crazy-quilt of farcical comedy, ferocious mayhem and fast-break exuberance. Like the old movie, the new one begins with an outburst of attention-grabbing activity, and rarely decreases its breakneck velocity for the next 100-odd minutes. The big difference is, this time, Ritchie tries to make it a little easier for his audience to sort out his extensive cast of characters by offering a dozen or so freeze-frame introductions.
After that, however, you’re on your own. Ritchie doesn’t even offer subtitles to translate the impenetrable pseudo-Irish accent affected by – omigosh, it’s really him! – Brad Pitt in a cheeky cameo riff on his notorious Fight Club persona. And don’t ever expect Snatch to slow down for you to catch up. Even when characters are simply standing still or lurking in parked cars, Ritchie usually finds some way to sustain a sense of motion. Sometimes, he spins the camera around his players in dizzying loop-the-loops. At other times, he extends the action with cross cutting and time tripping, occasionally giving us two or three views of the same actions and reactions.
Listen closely, and you’ll catch the cheekiest flourish: While the toughest of the tough guys (Brit football hero Vinnie Jones, a LS2SB alumnus) interrogates an informant, Ritchie underscores the scene with a golden oldie sung by his brand-new wife, the lovely and talented Madonna.
Much as LS2SB revolved around the search for an antique shotgun, Snatch is set into motion by a mad scramble for a humongous diamond. The valuable stone is stolen in Antwerp by master thief Franky Four Fingers (the ubiquitous Benicio Del Toro), who travels through London while on his way to Avi (Dennis Farina), a shady wheeler-dealer in New York. Unfortunately, Franky runs afoul of Boris the Blade (Rade Sherbedgia), an ex-KGB agent who deals in illegal guns. Even more unfortunately, Franky is snatched by two pawnshop owners (Robbie Gee, Lennie James) and the world’s biggest getaway driver (Ade).
Meanwhile – and trust me, there are a lot of meanwhiles in Snatch – boxing promoter Turkish (Jason Statham, another LS2SB returnee) tries to move into the big time by co-sponsoring an unlicensed match with Brick Top (Alan Ford), a graying Cockney kingpin with a nasty habit of feeding troublesome people to hungry pigs. Not surprisingly, nothing good comes of this business arrangement. Mickey O’Neil (Pitt), a grungy Irish gypsy who’s recruited for the match, refuses to take a dive, and very nearly digs Turkish’s grave. A bad situation gets much, much worse as Brick Top threatens Mickey’s family, Avi arrives in London to find the missing Franky, tough guy Bullet Tooth Tony (Vinnie Jones) begins to ask hard questions – and the pawnshop owners, along with their getaway driver, are drafted as dinner guests for some famished swine.
It wouldn’t be fair to reveal much more, except that there is indeed a lot more to be revealed.
There is a great deal less artistry than artifice in this frenetic pastiche. (Of course, much the same could be said of LS2SB.) But Ritchie is ingeniously clever in constructing his knotty plot, and earns extra points for tying the various threads together with such a satisfying flourish in the final scenes. He knows when to cut away from the really rough stuff, lest we get too repulsed by the carnage to remember when to giggle. That’s a good thing, since, even more frequently than LS2SB, Snatch jolts us into shocked laughter with killer punchlines. At least two violent deaths are absurdly accidental – two central characters simply happen to be in the right place at the wrong time – and a third victim expires (mercifully, off-camera) only after his killer nearly runs out of patience (and bullets).
Ritchie has cast the movie with exemplary care, which is an even better thing. There are no real heroes to speak of, but the actors are everything they need to be for this shaggy-dog story to have appropriate bite. And a few notables – especially Statham, Jones, Farina and Pitt – actually manage to generate a rooting interest in their disreputable characters.
There are times when Snatch will put you in mind of the circus act that calls for a juggler to keep numerous plates spinning atop a series of slender poles. One wrong move, and something or other would crash to the ground. But Ritchie keeps everything spinning madly and merrily along, with all the brazen glee of a precocious child who’s blissed out on the sheer joy of showing off.
