However, it makes up for that lack of compellingness by bringing on a whole heap of it in the final act and although said final act closes abruptly, it still really hits home. There's plenty of problems surrounding our leads, but there's so little of it that's conveyed sharply enough, that there's hardly any smooth sense of conflict. Of course, what might be the film's biggest problem is that pretty much nothing happens for so much of it. Well, after hearing this film's soundtrack, it's safe to assume that no matter how much I prey to the almighty Axl Rose, the response is always going to be "Oh-woah-woah, sweet child o' mine, the future looks bleak for quality music." Of course, that's just a problem with humanity, not necessarily a problem with this film, which actually suffers from some faulty editing, slowness, drop-offs in engagement, some overdrawn points, improvable dialogue and a cop-out ending. Man, what is this world coming to where great talents are abandoning their own heritage? These really are harsh times or the next generation of classic rock, where the most british of brits would come out and sing like they just pulled up in a pickup truck with a keg of moonshine whiskey in the back. He's so british, he's almost cockney and he couldn't be bothered to play french, at the very least. I don't know if there's that many variations of an american accent, but if there are, then Christian Bale knows them. I know when I think gangster thug, I think Christian Bale or at least I do now, because "American Accent #42" is great.
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