BANK JOB, THE

(February 2008, U.S.)

The one indisputable thing that all heist movies have in common with each other is that you want the crooks to get away with it. I'll say that again...you WANT the crooks to get away with it! You want it so bad, you can practically taste it. You cringe when a police just happens to come upon the bank they're in the process of robbing. You shudder if one of the crooks does something stupid to give the whole gang away. You smile when they succussfully get away with the loot and watch them toast their victory with champagne. You're even happier when the people who have been robbed are just as bad (if not worse) than the crooks themselves.

THE BANK JOB is based on a real crime that took place in London in 1971. This is one of those situations where it's all so outrageous that it just HAD to be a true story. Thing is, though, these bank robbers are not your traditional lot that you'd find in fictional stories; they're not particularly bright, they don't have a carefully calculated fool-proof plan, they're not violent or dangerous people and one of them is not looking to fuck over the others just to keep all the loot for him or herself. The ultimate prize is not even cash or jewelry, but rather very revealing sexual photographs of England's own princess in action. You can just imagine how much something like that is worth to the right people and the dangerous steps they'll take to protect them.

This is one of the finer heist films I've even seen. It's a well acted thriller with that "independent" touch and it doesn't degrade itself with a number 12 or 13 attached to it (no disrespect to Steven Soderbergh).

Favorite line or dialogue:

Kevin Swain: "We're not bank robbers."
Terry Leather: "Maybe that's why we could get away with it."
Dave Shilling: "It's a bit daunting, isn't it?"
Terry: "You know what scares me more? Living and dying with nothing to show for it. You know how old Mozart was when he composed his first minuet?"
Dave: "No."
Terry: "Five. Five! A fucking minuet!"
Kevin: "And how would you know that fact, Terry?"
Terry: " Because it's tattooed on that stripper's arse, Kevin. What the fuck's it matter how I know? It's a fact and you're missing the point, Kev. What I'm trying to say is, we stop fucking about and stop picking the shit from under our fingernails."