The Last Heist review – grim-faced Brit gangster thriller is Reservoir Bodge

A ripe crew of wrong’uns hole up in a bar to pick over a raid gone awry, but does deliver one welcome departure from cliche

You might find it reassuring that, even as the pound yo-yos and democracy unravels, there will forever be a corner of the British film industry that is grim-faced geezers in boozers toting shotguns and plotting shenanigans. This very late entry in a cycle initiated during the Blair administration attempts something a little more characterful than usual, as signalled by the presence of the great Perry Benson in the prologue as a bar owner who corks it before giving up his life insurance details to his son.

The Last Heist then involves an hour of perilously muggy business, as the lad (co-writer Michael Head, sporting a marked resemblance to the young Frank Harper) recalls his old gang to Perry’s bar to work out where their raid on the recalcitrant insurers went bloodily awry. It’s a bit Reservoir Bodge: there’s much gruff talk of codes, and a liberal scattering of the other C-word, before the film pulls a loopy twist from an otherwise threadbare sleeve.

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