The Riot Club Review
“I’m sick to death of poor people!” the repugnant Alistair Ryle (Sam Claflin) roars to his comrades atop the opulent dinner table, sloshing his wine carelessly out of its vessel in the process. This loaded, incendiary harangue epitomises the deplorable attitude of The Riot Club. The film’s vulgar band of toffs are some of the most wretched characters ever seen on the big screen. Yet while the collective known as the “Riot Club” are totally void of any redeeming qualities, it’s impossible not to view them without a hint of envy and intrigue.
Adapted from Laura Wade’s theatrical production, Posh, the Riot Club is an exclusive society for the “brightest and best” at Oxford University, but only for those from the correct pedigree. This means only students from Eton, Westminster or, at the very worst, Harrow are allowed in. Member Harry (Douglas Booth) confirms the club’s elite status when he muses that “there may be 20,000 people at the top university in the world, but only ten are in the Riot Club.”
In an effort to boost their depleted ranks, the club hone in on two unsuspecting freshers, Miles (Max Irons) and Ryle (Sam Claflin). Despite both heralding from a privileged background, they share few values. Miles is humble and accommodating to all walks of life while Ryle revels in snobbery as he grapples with the legacy of his revered older brother….read the rest of the review at Movie Fail