Lucky Number Slevin

With a serpentine plot which twists and turns so violently, it ends up tying itself in knots, Lucky Number Slevin is a stylish exercise in deception and misdirection which is almost too clever for its own good.

Screenwriter Jason Smilovic takes obvious pleasure in toying with us as he unravels the tightly-wound narrative, sneakily pulling the rug from under us when we least expect it.

As thrillers go, this is impressively constructed and executed, providing you're prepared to suspend disbelief and forgive the film the occasional con.

On a couple of occasions, Smilovic bends the truth (or, more plainly, cheats) to keep his house of cards upright just a few minutes longer.

Director Paul McGuigan, who traversed similar territory in Gangster No 1, pulls out every stop to ensure his picture is a feast for the senses.

The camera spins through 360 degrees at dizzying speed, slow motion is used to stunning effect and swift cuts increase in frequency as the film gathers momentum.

Twenty-something loser Slevin (Hartnett) happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Mistaken for his friend Nick Fisher, who is up to his eyes in debt, Slevin is unwittingly propelled into the middle of a brutal turf war between rival New York gangsters.

Jewish crime boss The Rabbi (Kingsley) compels Slevin to assassinate his arch enemy, The Boss (Freeman), else face death himself.

Meanwhile, The Boss orders Slevin to kill The Rabbi's gay son Yitzchok (Rubenfeld), known affectionately as The Fairy, in retribution for his own son's murder.

Caught between the warring factions with seemingly no way out, Slevin turns to pretty coroner Lindsey (Liu) to help him outwit the kingpins before he ends up six feet under in a wooden casket.

However, a tenacious cop (Tucci) and a ruthless hit man called Goodkat (Willis) also have Slevin in their sights. Both hope to use him to get closer to The Boss and The Rabbi and perhaps bring them to justice.

Nothing is as it seems in Lucky Number Slevin.

The film opens with three jumbled flashbacks, which only make sense at the conclusion, slotting neatly into place as missing pieces of the jigsaw.

In retrospect, you could quite happily pick gaping holes in the plot but, as it unfolds, Lucky Number Slevin dazzles us with its audacity and impeccable style. In particular, the dialogue is littered with some polished one-liners.

It's debatable whether people really talk to one another with such self-deprecation and wit.

However, in the confines of this elaborate construction, we readily accept that when a goon jeers, "You should really play ball kid," the cocksure hero would immediately reply, "You think I'm tall enough?"