The Football Factory


"Trainspotting wrapped in Burberry!" shrieked FHM. And how the marketing boys must have high-fived. In fact, the trouble with The Football Factory is it's so reverential to Trainspotting - with heroin replaced by 'ooliganism - it doesn't bother with any ideas of its own. All wearily present and correct: Sick Boy-style ladies' man; above-it-all Renton type; Begbie nutter; endless voiceover narration... They even drop in a `Choose Life'-like monologue ("Go home to your cosy little flat in Nowheresville...").

Buried in the horror-mix of salacious violence and sphincter-twitching sentimentality, Danny Dyer (Moff from Human Traffic) is fragile and watchable, while Frank Harper makes a satisfying suburban ogre. But the most telling character is a comedy-racist cabbie, who scripter/director Nick Love drops in again and again, as if to say, "We don't find all this ugliness and bigotry in any way titillating. Honest, mate."

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