Gangs of London season 2 review – why are millions watching this gory filth? » Lesnouvelles.live

Gangs of London 2 (Sky Atlantic) amounts to an urban retread of Frozen Planet 2. In David Attenborough’s series, the soon-to-be gutted quake, whether it’s lemmings cowering against arctic foxes or hyperventilating seals on ice floes broken by synchronized killer whales after fresh meat.

In the second series of Gangs of London, ultraviolence is also omnipresent, amoral predation rules this urban jungle. The number of psychopathic gangster corpses increases faster than your energy bills. A drug thug gets quietly strangled when we notice a swollen eye. The camera zooms in just as it explodes. I want to thank all the creatives involved for making this scene pop.

At one point, an actor slips off a high-rise balcony, possibly collapsing before series two gets even dumber. As if it were possible.

At the end of the first season, remember, gang leader Sean Wallace (Joe Cole) was killed after trying to avenge the death of his father, Finn (Colm Meaney). With Sean out of the way, London’s heroin trade is being fought entirely by people of color, not just Londoners, but exiled Kurdish freedom fighters and a Pakistani drug cartel. This development is an encouraging representation of the diversity of post-Brexit London, no doubt, but just what prompted the new Home Secretary to launch the extradition flights to Rwanda.

Wait a second, though. At one point we cut Marian Wallace from Michelle Fairley. She is overseas, buying a batch of big guns so she and the remnants of the Wallace gang can take out the unwelcome trash later in the series.

Meanwhile, the new alpha predator looking to take over London’s heroin trade is a jerk called Korba, possibly from the Republic of Madeupistan, played valiantly by Waleed Zuaiter. Korba should be an absolutely creepy character, but unfortunately Zuaiter reminds me of Michael Bryant as nerdy existentialist philosopher Mathieu Delarue in the recently repeated BBC adaptation of Sartre’s Roads to Freedom. Last I checked, Parisian philosophy professors rarely become psycho-killer drug barons.

Korba wears an unspeakable raspberry-colored zip-up velvet top that makes no aesthetic sense but hides blood spatter well. He bleaches his hair in a way that screams psycho midlife crisis, but also makes him a look-alike for the lemmings’ nemesis, the arctic fox.

But there’s a key difference between this drama and Frozen Planet 2. When the lemmings or seals meet their fate, the camera pans out or we cut to a long shot. Gangs of London has no such ethical scruples. When a gang minion gets rubbed up by Korba, we zoom in on the dying man’s arteries spurting blood from his neck in a way that – I’ve never studied medicine – seems required by the taste of the big puppet the more showy rather than anatomical plausibility. Granted, there’s a really good scene in an Istanbul laundry in which the camera enters the middle of a mass fight, dragging our sad-eyed hero, undercover cop Elliot Finch (played by Ṣọpẹ́ Dìrísù) into it. But that seems from another show, notably from a ballet of violence by John Woo. Gangs of London don’t often do this elegant dance.

On the contrary, violence is on steroids; it’s as if the director and writer are concocting a plot after watching Steven Knight’s Peaky Blinders and Ronan Bennett’s Top Boy. “You know what – we can do them like kippers. “Yeah, buddy, but how?” “By dialing violence to 11.” “But the dial only goes to 10, guv. “Is that it?” We’ll see. »

There are stretches of inaction while, it is believed, minions spray the landscape. But they all involve sneaky guys trading gang nonsense so unlikely even Guy Ritchie would doubt it. I’m so glad the endearing Paapa Essiedu is in there, if only because the actor always seems to have a smirk on his face like, like me, he can’t take this wacky chasm totally at face value. serious. I saw that smirk when he played the government security minister in The Capture, and I see it here when he plays Alex Dumani, the London drug gang money man beholden to the mysterious investors who can, like the merchants of the city sabotaging the economic strategy of Kwasi Kwarteng, turn against him at any time.

This is not the London I know. In one scene, bloody mischief takes place outside the Horseshoe in Clerkenwell, a pub where I have spent many bucolic summer evenings. But will Peaceable Idylls Outside London Boozers get a second series? Of course not. It’s your fault. Some 16.6 million muppets like you, no offense, watched the first series of Gangs of London and ordered the second axiomatic. It’s Mozart, not you desensitized bingers, I’m sorry for: his Requiem is deployed to heighten the ultraviolence that forms episode one’s stupid denouement.

Source: www.theguardian.com

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