Big Apple revenge turns sour Civic corruption: Russell Crowe (left) and Mark Wahlberg (seated) in Broken City. Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars None yet. Drama Allen Hughes Broken City Directed By Allen Hughes Written By Brian Tucker Rated Ma15. 109 Minutes Cinemas Everywhere Broken City is about that perennially topical subject, civic corruption, and Russell Crowe is in the middle of it, cast as the mayor of New York, an operator in the tradition of Tammany Hall's finest. The script, by Brian Tucker, has had a meandering trip to the screen. After missing its chance in 2008, it went into turnaround and landed on "the black list," which is not a hangover from the dark days of McCarthyist Hollywood but an index of the the best screenplays trapped in limbo. It seems the young males who make up the most desirable box-office demographic couldn't be trusted to sit still during the passages of dialogue which punctuate the movie's fight sequences. But its prospects finally improved when it was picked by the director Allen Hughes. It's the first film Hughes has made on his own. His earlier efforts, which include From Hell, an ultra-violent take on the Jack the Ripper mystery, were co-directed with his twin brother Albert. Brooding: Mark Wahlberg perfects his heroic stare for his role as a private investigator alongside Russell Crowe's corrupt mayor. This one is more restrained. While much blood is spilt and every punch sounds as if it's inflicting irreparable brain damage, the violence itself is downplayed in favour of the machinations which bring it about. The role of the film's imperfect hero Billy Taggart is handled by Mark Wahlberg, who has carved a niche for himself playing working-class battlers who are knockabout and knocked-about. This one is a cop whose career comes to an end after he's charged with murder for shooting a man who has raped and killed a 16-year-old Latino girl. The mayor helps get him acquitted and several years later, he calls in the debt by making Taggart, who's now working as a private investigator, an offer he can't refuse. In return for $50,000 he has to gather evidence on the mayor's wife Cathleen, whom he suspects of having an affair. Crowe is looking unusually svelte in this one. Having slimmed down to his Gladiator dimensions, he swaggers about in a series of polo shirts and double-breasted suits. The only odd feature is his hair, which looks as if it's been elaborately sculpted to simulate a bad wig. It's so mesmerising that it took me a while to get around to concentrating on his performance which is as absorbing as you'd expect, with its sinister aspects enhanced by an ominous twinkle in the eye. He and Catherine Zeta-Jones have a couple of entertainingly chilly scenes together. She's played so many ice queens lately she must be in imminent danger of hypothermia. But this time, she at least has some classy outfits to keep her warm. And she does thaw out from time to time. She's also harbouring interesting secrets. Taggart, too, comes with complications. He's a macho chauvinist with a hot temper, aggravated by a fondness for Jameson whiskey - although he hasn't touched any for seven years, thanks to his even more intense fondness for his girlfriend Natalie (Natalie Martinez), sister of the murdered 16 year-old whose death he avenged. Now, however, jealousy over Natalie's burgeoning acting career and anxiety over his new partnership with the mayor combine to put him back on the booze and the mayhem which results does a lot to speed up the action. It's a clever film rather than a powerful one, largely because the agility of its plot twists fails to distract from one or two crucial implausibilities. But the surprises, revolving around a mayoral election and a real estate scam, do divert and intrigue. And despite the high-gloss finish Hughes applies to the narrative, it conveys a sense of the grubby realities of big city politics. It's in the tradition of Serpico, Prince of the City and the other political thrillers made by Sidney Lumet in the 1970s and '80s while lacking the same knotty texture. The kind of Byzantine conspiracies that Lumet made films about have migrated to television. For the perfect example, it's hard to beat Farhad Safinia's cable TV series, Boss, with Kelsey Grammer as a Chicago mayor whose wickedness is made all the more potent by his urbanity. He wears good suits, too. Twitter: @SandraHFilm