Marching Powder

Hats off to Danny Dyer for at least putting his heart and soul into this, but as a piece of cinema it’s poor, stereotypical and derivative of just about every other film he has been in - and a few that he hasn’t. “Jack” is having a bit of a mid-life crisis as he realises that he’s nearer the end than the beginning and hasn’t much to show for it. His wife “Dani” (Stephanie Leonidas) reckons he’s a waste of space and his daily regimen of lager and sniff isn’t likely to change that anytime soon. A bit of routine football hooliganism sees him in front of a magistrate who gives him six weeks to get himself sorted out, else he is going to prison. Can he wean himself off his old habits and try to be a better person/husband/dad? Maybe Nick Love thinks that a constant stream of expletives makes for a good watch, but this was just puerile. There’s not an hint of subtlety, no depth to the characterisation and without a doubt, the best bits are in the trails. “Jack” is a thug with few likeable qualities, and the strength of the drama between him and his wife is thrown completely under the bus when an incident with their son (Arty Dyer) should have put an end to the whole thing, but somehow just gets forgotten as what passes for a plot marches on. The whole thing has a 1980s look to it - attitudinally and aesthetically, and the occasional witty asides to the camera soon wear thin as we are presented with a slew of folks you’d cross the road to avoid. There is some humour in the script, but nowhere near enough to sustain this for what seemed like a lot longer than 90 minutes. A definite victory for hype over substance, powdery or otherwise. Sorry.