City Of Tiny Lights (15)

FROM Humphrey Bogart's Marlow in The Maltese Falcon to Jack Nicholson's JJ Gittes in Chinatown, the private eye is one of the most appealing characters in drama: the cynical, hard-nosed loner, the gumshoe, the man who can't be bought, won't be deterred, accepts romance in passing, and is happy to see a crooked amour go to jail.

There haven't been enough private eyes of late, so the thriller, City Of Tiny Lights, is an intriguing prospect, made more so by the fact that the main character is a British Asian – a fresh, interesting and appropriate prospect for these divisive times.

Rising British actor Riz Ahmed is Tommy Akhtar, a Londoner with a troubled past, a senile dad obsessed with cricket and a predilection for Bourbon, who exists in a world of ducking-and-diving lowlifes. He appears wily and able. And when a high-class prostitute, Melody (Cush Jumbo), engages him to find a missing colleague, the ingredients are in place for something special.

So what a shame that the execution of the film, particularly Patrick Neate's own adaptation of his novel, doesn't fulfil the promise. Instead of a great new chapter in the history of film noir, we're presented with a movie that seems to be trying too hard and is weighed down by the tropes of the genre – so much so that this neon-lit city becomes a bit of a bog.

Akhtar's search for the prostitute quickly leads him to the dead body of a businessman, and from there to a conspiracy that involves shady property developers, radical Islam, drug dealers, MI5 and old friends, including former flame Shelley (Billie Piper). In tried and tested fashion, he tiptoes between the villains and the law, receives a beating or two, has to repair his office, and puts those close to him in danger.

It's a rich mix, too rich, with the clutter made worse by the numerous flashbacks that illustrate Tommy and Shelley's past, tragic relationship. Film noir is famous for its convoluted plotting; but rather than being an entertaining brain teaser, this is simply repetitive, hackneyed and heavy-handed. Moreover, one of the appealing things about film noir 'tecs is that they don't really require back story – they very much exist, with their own rules and moral code, in the present.

Too much jars. The obligatory voiceover is both unnecessary and banal. Our hero drinks and smokes so much that anyone watching would be justified in feeling sick (and his frequent naming of his favourite tipple just seems like product placement). American anti-terrorist agents are allowed to run amok in London with the acquiescence of their British counterparts, and a very young girl traverses the city in the dead of night, when a day visit would do.

On the plus side, director Pete Travis and his production team paint a London milieu that is appropriately down-at-heel and atmospheric. Cush Jumbo, a British actress who's finding fame on American TV, first in The Good Wife and now its offshoot The Good Fight, lends what could have been a stock character a funny, sexy, down-to-earth appeal.

Riz Ahmed has been quietly building a solid reputation, first in British films such as Four Lions, latterly in supporting roles in Nightcrawler and Rogue One. He deserves this sort of lead, and he makes a good, authentic stab at a character who's more from the street than is usual, and a little less emotionally resilient. He and Tommy Akhtar merit another spin around the block, perhaps more usefully on the small screen.

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