Style over substance Representative of what is becoming standard Netflix output; expensive and lavish production with nothing beneath the veneer.
Half decent acting, but pointless - one dimensional - characters.
Cliches abound; upper class thickos and ne'er do wells (never without a glass of whisky in their hands) wall to wall 'Mockney' gangsters (Ray Winstone is going to get himself typecast if he's not careful) bumbling stoners (is anyone really that stupid) 'travelers' who steal things (but are really salt of the earth) and a variety of villainous 'Scousers' (I really like Pearce Quigley, but his accent seemed to veer from one end of the East Lancs Road, to the other) Romanians (heavily tattooed obvs) and others (I think there were Columbians and Belgians in there somewhere too).
It was almost as if Ritchie had started out with a tick list; Drug dealers? Check. Boxing gym/fights/promoter? Check, check, check. Lots of brown alcohol in expensive glasses? Check. Bent prison system? Check.
The list is yawningly endless.
Look, I know it's just a story, but are there really people in the UK who EXPORT drugs to the continent? Really? They ship drugs to a bigger landmass, with a better climate for growing weed - and they can do this cheaper?
By the way, who was in charge of continuity? One minute it's winter, then summer, then winter, then spring, then winter. Check out the beaten boxer too, one minute he looks like he's had the whole makeup team working on his eyelids, then ten minutes later - nothing!
I get that people will love it, but it's rubbish.