Son of a Gun

From chess metaphors to double-crosses; self-serving evocations of male prison rape to strippers with hearts of gold; Julius Avery’s self-penned crime thriller is an act of clumsy thievery, stealing its every idea from other, better crime films. And it makes Ewan McGregor dull, an indictable offence in and of itself.
McGregor is miscast as Brendan Lynch, Australia’s Public Enemy Number One, who becomes mentor and dysfunctional father figure to petty and pretty criminal JR (Brenton Thwaites). After JR helps Brendan plan an elaborate prison break, the two embark on a crime spree, where JR slowly realises that murderous loose-cannon master criminals shouldn’t be trusted.
Thwaites brings an innocent soulfulness to a story filled with gangster shorthand and generic twists, his expressive face betraying JR’s fear even as he tries to appear unfazed by the chaos and violence swirling around. Avery focuses on the heart-pounding aspects of JR’s journey – heists, sex, robberies gone wrong – and the tension-fuelled action scenes evoke how overwhelmed he feels. Of course, this out-of-depth theme is taken to constant literal extremes because apparently metaphors are better when bludgeoned into your skull. The action, however, is deftly handled, with quick pacing and a Michael Mann-inspired use of light and handheld cameras that makes the danger feel close.
McGregor remains too sparkly-eyed and charming to convince as the ruthless Lynch, lacking the menace of actors like Ben Mendelsohn, whose similar characters in Starred Up and Animal Kingdom were more unpredictable, and complexly written. There may be no honour amongst thieves, but there could have been some originality.