One. Two. Three. That’s how many people are credited as directing I Against I.
That’s how many people are credited as directing I Against I.
That’s three ringleaders. Three cooks spoiling the broth. Three people to blame.
Three people, any one of whom, at any time, could have could have called
time out, could’ve thrown up their hands and said: “Wait a minute guys…why the
hell are we making this film?”
Taking place over the course of one night, I Against I is the
cat-and-mouse tale of dodgy businessman Ian (Kenny Doughty) and hitman Issac (Ingvar Eggert Sigurðsson) who are
set-up to hunt and kill each other by Russian Roulette-obsessed gangster Joseph
Womack) who suspects that one of them may have murdered his
father, crime boss Tommy (John Castle). Handing each a mobile phone and a tracking device, Joseph
turns them loose, giving them just twelve hours to kill each other. But just where does Joseph’s beautiful,
abused wife Sophia (Sónia Balacó) fit in? Who really killed Tommy? Why is Joseph a Scouser when his dad is
obviously a Londoner? Who will
make it through the night alive?
Will you give a monkey’s?
Some of these questions will be answered (hint: It’s never explained why
Joseph is Scouse and Tommy’s a Londoner).
The problem isn’t that I Against I is bad. That isn’t to say it isn’t bad, it is. But that isn’t the problem. Many, many bad films are made every
year. Almost all of them find an
audience. I Against I will probably
find an audience too. Probably
people who want to see professional Scouser Mark Womack play a quietly unhinged
Scouse gangster. So that’s Mark
Womack and his lovely wife Samantha definitely in the audience then. But beyond them, it’s difficult to
fathom why anyone would choose to seek out this film.
The performances are decent enough but the characters lack
depth; they’re unsympathetic ciphers.
When a film is built around the central conceit that two seemingly
innocent men have been forced into a situation where one must kill the other,
it might be a good idea if the audience gave a flying f*ck about one or both of
I looks glossy enough in an ITV cop show fashion but it lacks
visual flair and the action scenes are blandly anonymous. In no way cinematic, none of the film’s
three directors displays even an ability to direct traffic, let alone film.
Badly written, tediously paced and lacking even the most basic dramatic
Against I is a genuinely pointless film. Sitting in a park, in the rain, staring intently at the
half-moon lunula of your thumbnail is a better way to spend your time.