text: Plunkett and MaCleane are two highwaymen that rob from the rich in order to give to ... well, the rich; comparatively, they ARE the rich. But we know they're the good guys because the chap behind the forces of law and order, a Mr. Chance, is just so evil. He rapes women - or tries to. He beats up his underlings. He commits murder. He has bad breath. He doesn't shave properly. He has no fashion sense. He tortures puppy dogs. That last one is just an inference of mine: we don't actually SEE him torture puppy dogs. But I'm sure he does. Little of Chance's villainy has much to do with his pursuit of Plunkett and MaCleane. It's just something he does in his spare time, a kind of a hobby he takes up to make absolutely certain that we don't like him. He needn't have tried so hard. No-one in this film is likeable.<br /><br />Let's take stock. Appealing characters? There aren't any: I believe we've covered that. Swashbuckling? Not a swash. Instead we have a kind of grimy heavy-breathing. Dash? Sparkle? Vigour? All gone the way of swashbuckling, I'm afraid. Realism? None of that, either. I think they were TRYING for realism, since everyone was so filthy, but the characters and action had all the plausibility of Errol Flynn - with no sense of exhilaration to back them up. Beauty? Nope. Fine camera work? For a TV crew, perhaps. Humour? You might giggle once or twice if you're in a benevolent mood. Then again, you might not. Dialogue? See `humour', above. Music? Don't even get me STARTED on the music. The music in `Ladyhawk' was, by comparison, uncannily apt; and at least the misguided aesthetic of that score was a consistent one.<br /><br />Ugh. I apologise to `Ladyhawk' for even THINKING about it in this context.<br /><br />To sum up: there's much positive badness here and NOTHING good - unless you count Liv Tyler, which I'm in two minds about doing.<br /><br />I feel as though I've just written a review of the pox. `Not very good,' the review says. It would be much more interesting if I could somehow DEFEND the pox, to claim that critics of the pox have got it all wrong - but I don't know how I'd go about doing that.