Made for 100k but looking a million dollars thanks to the gleaming images of DoP Haider Zaifar,
sees a restrained, glum-faced Danny Dyer going all
on the hoodies who killed his parents.
It wants to be taken seriously as a study of grief and Broken Britain, though its eye-for-eye violence is made especially unpalatable by the inventiveness of the kills.
But viewed as a Brit answer to ’70s and ’80s exploitation flicks, endless Seagal movies and First Blood (Dyer is rogue SAS; his colonel issues Trautman-esque warnings), it’s surprisingly decent.