Ordinary Decent Criminal is one of those movies that thinks it’s cooler than a pint of Guinness in a leather jacket. It’s not. It’s more like if someone watched The Usual Suspects, got a C-minus in screenwriting class, and then said, “Let’s cast Kevin Spacey again, but make him Irish.” Spoiler: the accent’s not the only thing that’s fake here.
This 2000 crime-comedy—which is neither particularly criminal nor remotely comedic—stars Spacey as Michael Lynch, a suave Dublin gangster loosely based on real-life Irish crook Martin Cahill. But where The General (the other film about Cahill) had grit, tension, and a point, Ordinary Decent Criminal is a sloppy stew of caper movie clichés, misguided whimsy, and Kevin Spacey chewing scenery like he’s starving and the script is made of celery.
Lynch is supposed to be a lovable rogue—a family man who robs art museums in between barbecues and philosophical chats about morality with his 12 kids and two wives. Yes, he has two wives. At the same time. And they’re fine with it. Because quirky, I guess?
Instead of making this setup interesting or complex, the film treats it like a sitcom subplot. Look, Kevin Spacey’s juggling wives while hiding diamonds in a priest’s hat! Look, he’s outwitting the cops again using nothing but a grin and an ill-advised motorcycle stunt! What fun! Except… it’s not. It’s exhausting. It’s smug. It’s like being cornered at a party by a guy who won’t stop telling you how “hilariously illegal” his side hustle is.
The tone is a disaster. Is it a crime thriller? A satire? A comedy of errors? A family drama with balaclavas? Nobody knows. The movie keeps shifting gears like a drunk Uber driver—one moment it’s wacky Irish banter, the next it’s trying to tug at your heartstrings with soft piano music and close-ups of a teary-eyed Spacey. It’s tonal whiplash, and not the fun kind that leaves you breathless—more like the kind that leaves you wondering if you’re concussed.
And then there’s Linda Fiorentino, wasted harder than a whiskey shot at a wake. She plays one of Lynch’s two wives—though calling it a role is generous. She stands around, looks mildly irritated, and delivers lines like she’s trying to remember which accent she’s supposed to be using. You get the sense she signed on thinking she was doing The Godfather: Dublin Drift and realized too late she was stuck in Boondock Saints for Dummies.
Peter Mullan and Stephen Dillane show up as the cops trying to catch Lynch, and they do their best, but the script has them playing cat-and-mouse with a guy who thinks quoting Shakespeare while robbing a museum is a personality. These are supposed to be the movie’s moral anchors, but they’re just as adrift as the audience, floating in a sea of weak gags and narrative shortcuts.
The heists? Laughably dull. The twists? Telegraphed louder than a marching band in a church. The “charm”? About as authentic as a leprechaun wearing Ray-Bans. The film spends so much time telling us how brilliant Lynch is, it forgets to actually show us anything remotely clever. He’s not clever. He’s just Kevin Spacey doing smug face in a pea coat.
And the soundtrack—dear lord—the music tries so hard to tell you how to feel, it practically grabs your ears and screams, “THIS IS A FUN MONTAGE, DAMMIT!” every time something remotely quirky happens. It’s like Ocean’s Eleven on discount Irish time with none of the sparkle and all of the hangover.
Final Verdict:
Ordinary Decent Criminal is a forgettable, uneven mess that tries to coast on charm, but forgets to actually be charming. It’s all attitude, no substance; all blarney, no bite. Kevin Spacey mugs his way through every scene like he’s auditioning for Leisure Suit Larry: The Irish Job, and the rest of the cast gets dragged down with him.
1.5 out of 5 stars.
One star for the talented supporting cast trying to keep this shambling shenanigan afloat. Half a star because Linda Fiorentino showed up. That’s it. The rest of the film? Lock it up, throw away the key, and pray for cinematic absolution.
