It’s of course the filmmakers’ prerogative to paint Ferris’s life story as they choose, and the performers here all share a commitment to their work that elevates the whole – but the script’s struggle to flatter its unprepossessing vigilante protagonist (he’s prone to coming out with poetic self-justifying speeches, too) is unconvincing, if not arguably irresponsible.
Overall this is an interesting true story, only flawed in this standardised telling.
There is simply no excuse for a cliche-ridden script that is more God-awful than Godfather, and a level of acting (with the exception of Martin Compston as Ferris) that is so cringeworthy it makes Garnock Way look like a Tony-award winning production of Ibsen.
Wearily familiar.
Forgettable.
Tediously self-satisfied at best, like a shady old bar bore holding you hostage.
This dim and dreadful hagiography of Glasgow thug Paul Ferris (valiantly played by Martin Compston) manages to disappoint in every respect.
It's all rather familiar, well enough acted yet not entirely convincing.
If this sounds familiar, it’s because both Ken Loach’s Sweet Sixteen (Compston’s breakout) and Peter Mullan’s Neds told similar stories – but only to much better effect.
General release. Check local listings for show times.
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