Dir: Patryk Vega. With: Piotr
Adamcyzk, Enrique Arce, Aleksey Serebryakov, Andris Keiss. 117 mins. Cert: 18
Patryk Vega is the Polish
writer-director whose hard-boiled thrillers have found commercial favour both
at home and with diaspora audiences: 2018’s The Plagues of Breslau was
the kind of full-throttle, unapologetically 18-rated entertainment Western
producers have backed away from recently. Regrettably, his latest is at once
globetrotting and dashed-off, and so remorseless that it becomes actively
punishing.
Violence is hardwired into
Vega’s filmmaking: his unhinged protagonists can’t walk into a room without it
seeming like a declaration of war. You gulp, then, when an ominous (and
suspiciously unattributed) epigram – “What sort of species are we, if we cannot
protect our children?” – makes clear this filmmaker has turned his brawn to
addressing trafficking. What follows has two modes: lurid and sentimental.
Either way, it’s a big wince.
Our hero Robert Goc (Piotr
Adamcyzk) is a cop of a familiarly grizzled stripe, introduced chaperoning a
desperate mother to the border after the latter’s daughter is snatched by the
Russian mob. The case gets forcibly reopened several years on after a gas
explosion in the Russian suburbs exposes a paedophilic treasure trove in the
bathroom of weak-willed foster parent Oleg (Andris Keiss). Given that Oleg’s
brother is played by an especially phlegmy Aleksey Serebryakov (from Leviathan
and the recent Nobody), we sense things can only get grimmer. Sure
enough: half an hour in, and a pregnant 11-year-old is throwing herself before
a train at Rotherham station. Worse ensues in Bangkok, where Goc starts to
wonder whether he himself might have certain… tendencies.
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