With police like those in “The Sweeney,” who needs criminals? This “flying squad” of plainclothes coppers whizzes around London beating up armed robbers, anyone with information and even innocent people they don’t like. Somewhere, Dirty Harry is saying, “Take it easy, guys.”
Cinder-block-headed man-orca Ray Winstone is a ferocious treat as Jack, the snarling Cockney who leads the squad while shagging the luscious wife (Hayley Atwell) of the internal-affairs man (Steven Mackintosh) who wants to put Jack away for his multiple transgressions.
Amid much crashing of cars, busting of heads and general rudeness, the movie blithely repeats most of the clichés of the American badass-cop flick, only in impenetrable Cockney. Winstone’s pitiless glare makes it all somewhat entertaining, but despite a massive shootout in Trafalgar Square and at the National Gallery, the film (based on a ’70s British TV show) never rises beyond formula pulp.
And I don’t know how many sex scenes featuring Winstone and Atwell you can handle, but the movie breaches my limit, which is a firm zero.