Guy Ritchie’s The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare is a charming (yet toothless) throwback to WWII exploitation films

Photo by Dan Smith/Lionsgate

Around the turn of the millennium, Guy Ritchie was the hottest director around. His visual and verbal zeal was a fresh shot in the arm just as films were getting set in their ways after the mid-90s indie boom. Then a strange thing happened: the flash and flair was traded in for the tailored coat of a journeyman. Someone able to make a film quickly and on budget, with occasional reminders of what once made his work popular. 

Now, after adapting classic TV shows (The Man from U.N.C.L.E.) classic myths (King Arthur) and classic Disney movies (Aladdin) among sprinklings of work that harkens back to the director’s own classic oeuvre (The Gentlemen, Operation Fortune: Ruse de Guerre) Ritchie turns his attention to another kind of classic: WWII exploitation movies.

Yet, if The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare (based on historian Damien Lewis’ book of the same name, as well as Winston Churchill’s files, declassified in 2016) is anything to go by, it may be time to retire the jackboots. 

In 1942, Prime Minister Churchill (Rory Kinnear struggling under pounds of makeup) is at a difficult crossroads. The Nazis and their U-Boats are making it hard for the British army to make supply runs by water, and nightly bombing raids have London on its knees. Churchill just needs to hold out long enough for the Americans to help turn the tide, but only if a suicide mission can cripple Hitler’s naval forces.

Of course, such a dangerous task can’t be attempted by average soldiers. So special division head ‘M’ (Cary Elwes) and his assistant Ian Fleming (Freddie Fox) find a rough-and-tumble lot who aren’t afraid to take on the mission. Led by grinning devil Major Gus March-Phillips (Henry Cavill), the small team consists of Anders Lassen (Alan Ritchson) a gentle giant with a penchant for bows & Bowie knives, explosives expert Freddy Alvarez (Henry Golding), as well as intelligence officer Geoffrey Appleby (Alex Pettyfer).

Meanwhile, on the isle of Fernando Po off the coast of Cameroon, where the Nazis keep their U-Boat supplies, two other agents run a counterplan. Helping to ensure Gus and his boat-bound crew can thwart the enemy with relative ease. Handler and local casino owner Heron (Babs Olusanmokun), as well as actress Marjorie Stewart (Eiza González), whose undercover skills come in handy to distract the sadistic leader of the port, Henrich Luhr (Til Schweiger).

Ostensibly, The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare is Ritchie’s version of Inglorious Basterds, with the added benefit of being based on actual history (look up Christopher Lee and the Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare, you’ll be glad you did). However, Ritchie’s film is devoid of the bite, style, and wanton exploitative violence that made Tarantino’s film a hit. Furthermore, it also lacks the character development that made The Dirty Dozen and The Guns of the Navarone indelible classics.

Photo by Dan Smith/Lionsgate

By and large, that’s because the whole affair, including the action, is rather toothless. There’s nary a situation where the heroes don’t find a solution mere moments later. People waltz through scenes with large guns — always armed with silencers — lacking any weight to them, while never missing a shot, robbing even a hint of tension from the proceedings.

Even when the film eventually lets Ritchson go ham, the camera pulls its punches when it should be leaning in. Given how far boundaries have been pushed when it comes to violence in recent R-rated action movies (see, for example, last year’s Sisu, also a Lionsgate release), this seems like a weird gamble.

By skirting the R/PG-13 rating divide, the whole thing feels adrift, unsure of which audience it should cater to.

Ritchie’s cast nearly manage to save the whole movie through their oodles of charm. The quadruple threat of Cavill, Ritchson, Golding and Pettyfer is intoxicating, to the point where the film would be better off focusing just on them gabbing on a boat. Gonzalez and Olusanmokun have a natural repartee which would make for a great spy-thriller spin-off. 

The problem is that the story surrounding them all is airless and overlong, never carrying the sense of urgency a ticking-clock film should warrant. For all the cross-cutting between characters and continents, the audience is kept at arm’s length from caring about anyone. That pill is made even more difficult to swallow when The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare ends with a wink that there might be more adventures in the future. 

Should this be a trial run for something bigger and better (with harder-hitting action and more of Ritchie’s style shining through) that would be cause for excitement. However, given the recent track record that sees the once-fiery Ritchie somewhat neutered and increasingly inconsistent, that ship may have sailed.

At least the classics are always there to pick up the slack.