Filth

Not one to take your mother to this with its violence, swearing, sex, pornography and masturbation all enveloped within an overall package of depression and mental illness. Of course, it’s entertaining as hell. Jon S. Baird’s adaptation of Irvine Welsh’s novel stars James McAvoy as Detective Sergeant Bruce Robertson, a copper on the mean streets of Scotland who attempts to gain a promotion to Detective Inspector whilst committing more crimes than the average crim themselves. McAvoy is superb as the increasingly out of control Robertson and Baird’s direction moves things along at a nippy pace. The script has a number of laugh out loud moments (including the best one-liner on sexuality equality in the work place you’ll hear this year) and an intriguing twist towards the end. On the downside the use of some shock imagery to portray Robertson’s descent into near madness is a bit trite and Jim Broadbent as Robertson’s (admittedly funny) imaginary doctor is a cipher as you can get. Due to its content this might struggle to find a broad audience, but if you want an evening free of political correctness then seek this out. Hello, John Sessions! Rating: 8/10.