Cardboard Gangsters

Mark O'Connor's film isn't subtle, but it's made with swagger and its antihero fits the bill as a certain kind of crime-drama archetype: overambitious, stupid and doomed, he nonetheless has a crude poignancy.

Mark O'Connor's film is a formulaic, but confidently handled gangster flick set in the rock-hard Darndale district of north Dublin.

It manages the trick of respecting the aspirations of those left behind by the Celtic Tiger economy while handing out a few tough lessons on the cost of responsibility.

Connors' compelling performance creates a degree of sympathy for Jason however the film seems a little too fond of his brutality and casual misogyny.

O'Connor puts the pedal to the metal with this picture and drives it like he stole it, as they say - with some exhilarating results.

O'Connor captures a potent disaffection of youth, and the ease with which this can slip into lawlessness.

The violence isn't played for laughs and Connors's performance is genuinely moving, though there's an irresistible sprinkling of salty, vulgar humour to lighten the otherwise bleak mood ...

The film is crackingly done, with a bleak humour when needed and a black savagery when not.

A film about drug dealers isn't to everyone's taste, but this is a well-made, gritty drama that doesn't glamorise anything or judge anyone, and all to a thumping soundtrack.

Salty, funny, and enlivened by some fantastic Dublin rap music, Cardboard Gangsters has a rare authenticity in terms of its subject matter and location.

O'Connor has - helped in no small measure by a towering turn from Connors - come as close to a Dublin Boyz n the Hood as we could have hoped. It's noisy, loud, violent and sad.

O'Connor thrusts the viewer into not just the action, but also its severe ramifications.