Snatch never stops moving forward as Ritchie loses himself in the eclectic cast of comic criminals; a coherent plot sacrificed for a brighter spotlight on all the chess pieces as the game serves as but a backdrop for the pawns.

Who doesn’t like a good gangster film? Ignoring the subjective debate of what ‘good’ means, it is hard to say no to a brief excursion into the criminal underworld, sans the danger and consequences, obviously. Contrary to the expression, rules are not made to be broken but refusing to comply with the system sends endorphins flying, elevated by our rebelliousness. Snatch combines the child-like joy that accompanies disobedience with dark caricatures, creating a playground of churlish but likeable characters with little interest on continuity but a keen interest for immediate action.

Above all else, gangsters (just like the common man) want money, so when an 86-carat diamond lands in London, every single delinquent’s nose perks up with as much grace as a Christian shark smelling a shipwrecked blood-donor shipment on the last day of Lent. While most of the black-market is trying to get its hands on the shiny new prize, Turkish (Jason Statham) tries to get Brick Top (Alan Ford) to set up a match between each of their backstreet boxers. 

The plot is messy since a series of “and then” moments fill most of the film’s actions, yet there is never a dull moment as Ritchie transforms an erratic pacing into an eclectic crossing of paths. It doesn’t matter that most of the motivation for stealing the big diamond is that it is a big diamond. For the most part, the plot serves as an easy reason for the numerous storylines to meet, forming connections between them and creating a sense of community filled with skulduggery. While the diamond, as we have covered, was certainly big, Snatch is a cross-section of the cockney underground, as if this is simply a day in the life of a British mob boss.

Turkish is obsessed with “ze Germans”, Doug “The Head” (Mike Reid) believes being Jewish is good for business and Tyrone is a getaway driver who can’t park. Every character is filled to the brim with minute details that add little to the plot but add a lot to the film. They aren’t throwaway moments that fill an empty space but oxymoronic traits that take even the most serious characters and make them a little bit more human: Bullet Tooth Tony’s (Vinnie Jones) reluctance at hurting an animal is so contrary to his heartless killer bravado that it creates an awkward moment comedically relieved by the ludicrousness of the situation.

Underneath the fleshed-out and witty character interactions are a slew of simple performances that revel in the dry and satirical British humour. As Turkish belittles Tommy (Stephen Graham) for purchasing a gun, Statham never smiles nor gives a nod of understanding to his right-hand man, opting for a cruel approach. The same can be said for most of the relationships in the film, creating brilliant chemistry as no one is afraid to hurt the other’s feelings: Sol (Lennie James) and Vinny (Robbie Gee) arguing like an old married couple when alone while diverting that unused anger towards Tyrone when he is around (namely at his still terrible parking skills).

Just like all of us, Snatch has fallen prey to the passage of time. Most of the best moments are left rust-less as Pitt steals the show every chance he gets, especially when he is allowed the lead in the only emotional story arc, but what has truly caused the most damage is Ritchie himself. 

When it was originally released, Snatch could have been seen as a thematic re-creation of Ritchie’s directorial Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels – an opinion which I agree with but doesn’t take away from its brilliance. Since then, Ritchie has gone on vacation with Sherlock Holmes and King Arthur and returned to the world of lawbreakers in 2019 with The Gentlemen. Unfortunately, the McConaughey-led feature takes most of the best attributes of Snatch and combines them with a concise and tense plot, essentially upgrading it. In no way is Snatch bad since the absurdity of what constitutes a ‘criminal’ remains hilarious, but the missing pieces of polish feel even duller now that Ritchie has created a spiritual successor, showing us everything it was missing.