Jack Falls Review
Jack Falls, the third and final instalment in the film adaptations of Paul Tanter’s Jack graphic novels, aims to be a British Sin City. It’s closer to that other Frank Miller film, The Spirit, which opened to poor reviews and quickly fled cinemas with its hands over its butt to shield itself from a good kicking.
The ‘black and white with flashes of colour’ gimmick may have long since lost its impact, but Jack Falls is not without its assets. Dexter Fletcher isn’t given nearly enough screen time as a rumpled-yet-honest detective and Tamer Hassan rumbles his lines as though the spirits of both Kray twins are battling for possession of his 6’3” frame. Despite the shoe-string budget there are some decent action sequences and the locations are used effectively, if without imagination. Even though expository dialogue is kept to a merciful minimum, audiences who haven’t seen the first two films won’t have any difficulty following the action.
On the other hand, Alan Ford (the under-funded British film’s ersatz Ray Winstone) plays the same East End gangster he always does and Simon Phillips as the hero doesn’t contribute much beyond Olympic-level frowning. Phillips is also, if anything, too much of an everyman to be believable as a tragic, angst-ridden agent of violence.
While it may have seemed like a good idea to let Tanter write the screenplay and co-direct, his obvious reluctance to tinker with his own source material leaves the actors choking out dialogue that was never designed to be spoken aloud. In more assured hands this tale of bloody revenge carried out by a self-destructive, tormented anti-hero should have been able to achieve some success in spite of its flaws, but as it is the overall effect is like watching a noir Eastenders.
Clare Moody