Witty, nimble, sharply dressed, and light on its feet, Guy Ritchie’s dexterous “The Gentlemen” is a largely surprising delight (mostly, anyhow)—an entertaining crime comedy with a snap, crackle, and pop that’s far superior to the more self-enamored 2019 film of the same name whence it came. The connections to the original are tenuous at best, nothing more than the cannabis and drug empires milieus in the U.K. and the unsavory cast of characters that inhabit it, really, but featuring similar effervescent spark and appeal, it isn’t as offputtingly smug as the original (a decent film often elevated by its cast, but derailed by its conceited, wink-wink-nudge-nudge humor and overly self-satisfied meta-filmmaking navel-gazing nonsense).
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Co-written by Ritchie and Matthew Read (a “Peaky Blinders” scribe who has also often worked with Nicolas Winding Refn), the latter is a welcome addition, seemingly grounding the filmmaker a little and keeping Ritchie in check from his worst, overly stylish, aggressively self-referential impulses even when the plot sometimes strains credulity. Sure, there’s a sprawl of characters, and the increasing difficulties get a little knotty at times, but it largely goes down as easy as much of the luxurious top-shelf bourbons that are seemingly always on hand. While Matthew McConaughey’s Mickey Pearson in “The Gentlemen” film is never really mentioned by name, his underground weed-growing dynasty is clearly the connective tissue that binds the narratives.
A new class of criminals is introduced in “The Gentlemen,” perhaps proposing that deep down inside, members of the seemingly noble English aristocracy were the original gangsters all along. Ritchie’s crisp series centers on the Horniman family and one Eddie Horniman (an unexpectedly adroit Theo James), the second son of the Duke of Halstead. Never expecting to inherit any of the family country estate or wealth, Eddie is largely self-accomplished, excelling in life and ascending to the rank of Captain in the British Army, introduced initially, at his station, as an extremely competent get-it-down soldier. But when his father unexpectedly passes away, and the uselessly supercilious firstborn son Freddy Halstead (a deliciously amusing Daniel Ings) is purposefully overlooked in the will, Eddie’s life suddenly pivots in a much-unanticipated direction.
While Freddy, his wife Tammy (Chanel Cresswell), and the extended family reel at the unforeseen revelation that Eddie’s inherited everything while mourning the Duke — his mother Lady Sabrina (Joely Richardson), sister Charly (Jasmine Blackborow), and the loyal groundskeeper Geoff (Vinnie Jones)— Eddie contends with a fate and fortune he never asked for.
As the heir grapples with the innumerable responsibilities that come with owning this English country estate—including the myriad debts that his recklessly stupid liability of a brother has accrued—the stylish, sardonic, and quick-witted Susie Glass (a terrific Kaya Scodelario) comes knocking on his door, not a moment too soon. She reveals that the Halstead estate is home to an enormous weed kingdom, and its proprietors—led by the big Daddy boss, Bobby Glass (Ray Winstone)—would like to continue the quid-pro-quo relationship of operating without impunity under this new landlord.
Seemingly not very interested in consorting with criminals or Glass’ canny first-lieutenant daughter Susie, who runs the day-to-day business, Eddie’s unfortunately in the middle of handling a fresh new predicament: his idiot ne’er-do-well brother—who always expected the cozy cushion of inheritance, thus never amounted to anything— is in $8 million large with a gang of merciless Cockney cocaine-dealing thugs threatening to dismember his genitalia should he not pay up, and fast (Peter Serafinowicz playing one of the main dope peddlers).
With the interest meter running and staring down the possibility of having to sell the estate to pay off Freddy’s egregious balances— not to mention a wealthy American buyer, Uncle Stan (Giancarlo Esposito), waiting in the wings, eager to buy the patrician property— Eddie proposes a treaty that will solve both their issues. Having aligned interests—Susie hoping to keep things status quo, Eddie needing a serious cash-flow induction to bail out his shameless and senseless sibling— they come to a mutually reciprocal understanding that will allow the manor to stay in the Horniman family, Freddy to live, the debts to be paid and for the cannabis fiefdom to stay operational.
If only it were so simple. Freddy being the impossibly colossal f*ck-up cunt that he is, pardon my French, cocks it all up, time and time again. And so “The Gentlemen” is essentially a succession of comedically intensifying and dangerously escalating predicaments and parlay strategies that Eddie tries to administer to sort it all out. But a series of unfortunate events and bad luck (often Freddy, but other f*ck-ups exist within the environment, too) often just muck up the gambles and exaggerate the consequences.
The capable Eddie and the sophisticated, calculating Susie make a great pair, side-by-side scions ready to take their families to the next level. Initially almost sweet upon each other, they too soon begin to butt heads, making the dizzying whirl of spinning plates in the air difficult to prevent from crashing down upon all of them, causing further disaster.
Seeing it all go hazardously south so often, a brief reprieve here and there giving some breathing room, Eddie eventually tries to extricate his family from the criminality of it all. But along the way, he seems to get a taste for it all, perhaps proving he’s a more ruthless brute than the gallant nobleman he appears to be.
James, for his part, is terrific in the part of the gracious and suave aristocrat, a role he was seemingly born to play. He’s simply never been better. Scodelario is a tremendous foil and wickedly good at playing this arch, no-nonsense empress.
And when the script falters, its many comedic exaggerations straining suspension of disbelief, even for a wild crime comedy—sometimes just the litany of pile-on dilemmas become a bit much overbearing, and a few stylish ticks occasionally annoy—the ensemble is at least there to keep things running smoothly. Part of the series’ joy is the exceptional supporting cast and lesser-known names. The aforementioned Ings is a deeply hilarious standout, and names like Harry Goodwins, Ruby Sear, Pearce Quigley, and Michael Vu are all ones to keep eyes on (Dar Salim from Ritchie’s “The Covenant,” also delivers a humorous turn as a “cleaner” and body disposing agent).
Like all series made by filmmakers these days, “The Gentlemen” overstays its welcome a little bit, starting to sag and get repetitive around episodes four, five, and six—and a section there in the middle with gypsies, sorry, travelers, seems like an all-too-familiar “Snatch” rehash. Eight episodes in length, maybe blame Netflix’s audience retention algorithm for the reason it’s not a sharply tailored five-ep fit instead. But given the way it rallies and ends well—and how this problem is endemic to nearly all series these days— its minor hitches are relatively easy to forgive.
As noted, Ritchie, especially when in overzealous crime comedy mode, often gets a little too clever for his own good. And “The Gentlemen” (2024) is just the right amount of cheeky, too elaborate, and vast over eight episodes to warrant the over-fussiness that has hurt what should have been harmlessly enjoyable criminal escapades that don’t reinvent the wheel but have their diverting charms nonetheless. “The Gentlemen” certainly does buckle and overextend itself a couple of times, the increasing comedic calamities snowballing just a little too unbelievably at times (though the jag with Freddie Fox as a Nazi sympathizer is delectably droll). Still, some minor issues aside, there’s a lot to like about the series. Filled with style, panache, laughs, and a solid cast putting in the effort, it’s largely one of Ritchie’s best comedic efforts in a while and one that wryly suggests barons and burglars are often just different sides of the same coin, inherited, appropriated or otherwise. [B]
“The Gentlemen” premieres on Netflix March 7.