Michael Caine plays ex-marine and widower Harry, who's had it up to here with the hoodies terrorising the dismal London estate where he lives.
When his old mate (David Bradley) is murdered by the thugs, Harry decides to deal with them himself, despite evidence that he's none too steady on his legs and hasn't used a weapon in decades. There's a nasty Daily Mail-ish subtext to this brand of OAP vigilantism, a suggestion that Harry is only doing what everyone secretly would like to, ie blasting the scum from the streets. Emily Mortimer, pale as a Madonna, is miscast as a police detective, and the big finale, in which a mass riot erupts out of nowhere, is preposterous. First-time director Daniel Barber delivers a full measure of foul-mouthed brutishness, but his picture is strictly cartoon-level in terms of character and story.