Film review: Filth (18) - The Scotsman THE post-Trainspotting problem of trying to successfully bring Irvine Welsh's work to the big screen continues with Filth. Though leagues ahead of The Acid House and the dismal Ecstasy in terms of the performances given, the level of ambition on display and the general technical skill of the production, it still struggles to make Welsh's character-driven but plot-light prose cinematic. That's a shame because Welsh's wilfully vile source novel felt like a surreal Scottish spin on Abel Ferarra's 1992 movie Bad Lieutenant and this film version feels like it's trying to harness some of the demented energy of Werner Herzog's subsequent Nicolas Cage-starring remake.Alas, its excesses never prove quite so entertaining. Which isn't to say Filth doesn't live up to its title. In fact it goes all out to shock and offend as its Edinburgh coppers engage in rampant drug abuse and are frequently to be seen vomiting over themselves and others. Nevertheless, it all comes across as a little bit naughty rather than truly transgressive. And sadly it just isn't funny enough. What saves it is a cracking performance from James McAvoy as the film's racist, misogynist, bent copper Bruce Robertson. Gleefully embracing his character's proclivities, he also manages to imbue this monster with a depth sadly lacking from the rest of the film, the tone of which is often too broad. It has its moments, but in keeping with its Christmas setting all the grotesquery just makes it seem a bit panto. James McAvoy "proud" of Filth performance