The cinematic adaptation of Irvine Welsh's novel of the same name. A winding tale of how overindulgence of vices, as a way of suppressing reality, ends up pushing a man to serious mental illness. Sounds fun, right? Welsh's trademark witty writing, combined with James McAvoy's performance makes for a pretty entertaining film all-in-all.
3.5 rounding up because of James McAvoy. At first I thought it was one of those dull movies that want to show how sordid the police/crime world it's. I liked how it got darker and darker. Not sure if it would have worked all the same with a less brilliant lead than McAvoy.
2.5 stars. Altogether too ladish to transcend its own laddishness, which I think the book managed more successfully. Some curious changes too - I appreciated that Jon Baird clearly finds Jim Broadbent's face as unsettling as I do, but had rather he'd stuck with the CGI tapeworm as the voice of Robbo's repressed self-loathing. The tone was a bit too "hijinks" considering the amount of sexual assault and rape, also.