great

Ole 2022-04-21 09:01:04

In fact, liking a movie is very simple, liking is liking, usually without much reason. However, I don't know why this one is, and after watching it, the reason for liking it jumped out on its own.
1. In films like crime thrillers, action shootouts, I'm very specific about this intuitive lure of money. Note that what I said is intuitive, which means dozens of banknotes, or gold bars piled up into mountains, not jewelry and diamonds worth hundreds of millions, there is no intuitive stimulation. The 500,000 in this film stimulated my nerves very well.
2. The four male protagonists seem to be nothing special, but they are different after a closer look. Each has its own characteristics. I can't figure out which one I like the most. Except for the protagonist, the other characters are also very good. A man's play, without love, without touching family affection, can be made so attractive. Guy Ritchie is really not a cover.
3. The storyline is interlocking and closely connected, but the story is not in a hurry and opens slowly. Too many but not messy, small but not cumbersome, cow!
love~

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Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels quotes

  • Barfly Jack: He then proceeds to order an Aristotle of the most ping-pong tiddly in the Nuclear sub.

  • Tom: Rory Breaker?

    Barfly Jack: Rory? Yeah I know Rory. He's not to be underestimated. He's a funny looking fucker, I know. But you've got to look past the hair and the cute, cuddly thing - it's all a deceptive facade. A few nights ago Rory's Roger iron's rusted. He's gone down the battle-cruiser to watch the end of a football game. Nobody is watching the custard so he turns the channel over. A fat geezer's north opens. He wanders up and turns the liza over. 'Now fuck off and watch it somewhere else.' Rory knows claret is imminent, but he doesn't want to miss the end of the game. So, calm as a coma, picks up a fire extinguisher, walks straight past the jam rolls who are ready for action and he plonks it outside the entrance. He then orders an Aristotle of the most ping pong tiddly in the nuclear sub and switches back to his footer. 'That's fucking it,' says the geezer. 'That's fucking what?' says Rory. And he gobs out a mouthful of booze covering fatty. He flicks a flaming match into his bird's nest and the geezer's lit up like a leaking gas pipe. Rory, unfazed, turned back to his game. His team's won too. Four-nil.