Mark Addy is Frank, a gun fanatic who meets up with gullible and vulnerable Kenny when he's kicked out of the parental home. The pair go on a semi-comic mission attempting to avenge Kenny's brain-damaged brother by kidnapping the man who attacked him, Donut's, girlfriend.
The post kit-off fortunes of The Full Monty cast was always going to make for interesting viewing. Bobby Carlyle, of course, would continue either way; likewise established support player Tom Wilkinson. But could the rest carve stronger, brighter careers off the back of Tom Jones' You Can Leave Your Hat On?
Here, lovable chubster Mark Addy is gun fanatic Frank, finally booted out of the maternal home for being more pathetic than Mrs. Merton's Malcolm. Subsequent shelter comes at the Leicester B&B of simple Kenny (Creed-Miles) and his scabrous dad Len (Cranham). Before long, Frank's fictitious history with the SAS has catalysed Kenny's desire to avenge the brutal assault which left his brother brain-damaged and wheelchair bound, and the mis-matched duo are National Expressing it to London with a poorly prepared assassination plan.
The intention is plain: life lessons of loyalty and true friendship via the serio-comic fable of two half-wits out of their depth; the execution, however, is horribly wonky. First-half laughs give way to dark threat when Frank and Kenny invade the villainous Donut (Alan Atherall)'s flat and take his wiry girlfriend (Morton) hostage. Attempting to punctuate this mean, sordid and protracted showdown with more whimsical humour is grossly misjudged. And the beating of Kenny's brother Keith (James Hooton) - and his resulting mental and physical disability - is, at best, an uncomfortable story device.
In Addy's defence, the warm, watchable presence so evident in Monty occasionally struggles through even this unbalanced murk, suggesting that all he needs is the right project to capitalise on worthy screen credentials.
A grossly misjedged film in which the bits that are supposed to elliviate the drama, are disturbing. However, there is a Monty-style warmth that occasionally struggles through.