Adapted from the book of the same name by Irvine Welsh - a book that was considered unfilmable, although the 'unfilmable' list grows ever shorter (just this year we've had Cloud Atlas, Midnight's Children, and As I Lay Dying) - Filth looks and feels like the bastard offspring of Alfie, Fight Club and Trainspotting, and that's no bad thing. It's anarchic, raucous, and uninhibited, but it's also ever on the verge of succumbing to the chaos and madness of its chosen subject: the unhinged Detective Sergeant Robertson (James McAvoy).
The story (or, in this case, 'the psychological landscape' might be a better term) follows DS Robertson as he juggles a shot for the position of Detective Inspector, a minor phone harassment case, and a seemingly straightforward murder case. He's also got other things preying on his mind pulling him in even more directions: his drug(s) habit; his psychiatric sessions with Dr. Rossi (Jim Broadbent), which quickly take a surreal turn; and his attempts to prove himself worthy of his family, particularly his wife.
McAvoy plays Robertson like an infinitely more warped version of Michael Caine's Alfie. He's got an endless stream of patter that distracts us, the people around him, and, after a fashion, himself as well. His machiavellian scheming is so all pervasive that it would give even Iago pause. What's impressive about McAvoy's performance is that Robertson inspires fascination more than hate. He's as close to irredeemable as an anti-hero gets, but just before he goes too far Jon S. Baird (the director, and the brave man who adapted the book) plays his trump card, increasing our understanding of Robertson tenfold and, just maybe, eliciting a tiny bit of sympathy for him.
The only thing that doesn't quite work is the psychiatric dream/hallucinatory scenes between Robertson and Rossi; they're important, for various reasons, but the tone and change of pacing trips up the film every time we come back to them. But considering how many of the madcap images and ideas the film tries out and nails, it's not as problematic as it might be in a more straightforward tale. Random sidenote: Rossi is a tapeworm in these sequences (a fact that I missed at the time). Make of that what you will.*
I don't know whether to recommend Filth; it's not as simple a thing to do as it usually is. Think of a book or film that exhilarated you but left you feeling like you'd been dragged through a hedge backwards: would you ask your friends or family to go through the same, knowing that the hedge dragging feeling is guaranteed but the exhilaration might not be? My gut says that it's worth chancing. What does yours tell you?
Overall: 8/10
*As I understand it the book had some chapters which were narrated from the perspective of a tapeworm living in Robertson's intestines, so it obviously ties in to the that, but how it plays into the themes of the film and the character - beyond some talk about the tapeworm's capacity for survival - is a tad unclear. If anyone knows, or wants to take a stab at guessing, please jot down your thoughts below.
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