By Peter Killip.

After side-stepping yet another Liam Neeson outing this week, I happened upon this release, I’d almost forgotten it completely, no bombastic fan fare to mark it’s arrival, a complete lack of the constant bludgeoning of recent T.V. spots and the like, figured – “Bugger it, it’ll kill a couple of hours.”.

Remaking the ’86 Burt Reynolds original “Heat” with the Stath was going to be pretty safe ground in the first place, playing A Bodyguard with a crippling gambling addiction who ( after going to town on a rapist that he later discovers is mobbed up) needs to get out of Dodge but first needs the finances, or “Fuck You” money, as it’s charmingly referred.

That’s it, the bare bones plot in all it’s splendour , however Simon West directs at such a frenetic pace that it’s not really an issue, William Goldman dusting off his writing jacket for the first time in a good while, wastes no time in getting us straight into the 70’s aesthetic nonsense. Like L.A in “Kiss Kiss Bang Bang” or Bruges “In Bruges” the location of Las Vegas itself acts as a character/nemesis to the characters in the movie and regardless of the Dean Martin soundtracked scraps, won’t do wonders for the tourist trade I’d have thought.

It’s 92 minutes long and absolutely sweeps through the carnage, Stanley Tucci injects some underworld charm and would almost steal it if it weren’t for Statham’s bone breaking, face smashing almost elegant performance that reminds us that Liam Neeson doesn’t hold all the cards in high stakes horseshit. Brilliant stuff.

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