His residence is a manor, an exceptionally grand dwelling situated in the countryside. Possessing a chest broad as a luxury motorcar, he dons tweed breeches roomy enough to house his pack of hunting hounds alongside Geoff, his growling gamekeeper (“I would do anyfink for you an’ this famlee”). Even so, Edward “Eddie” Horniman, the 13th Duke of Halstead (portrayed by Theo James), remains melancholy and resentful. Let us pause briefly while this brawny aristocrat muses over the overwhelming triviality of serving as the wealthy focal point of Guy Ritchie’s The Gentlemen.
“Four hundred years ago, this estate spread out as far as the eye could see,” he informs Geoff (Vinnie Jones) while the aerial shot glides across his lush domain, an opulent expanse of sprawling hedgerows and deferential wildlife. “But it’s been diminished. Year after year. Generation after generation. First came the apologies, then came the shame, then came the contraction. I want it back, Geoff,” he snaps, his angular jaw tense with sentiment. “I want it all back!”
Naturally, that is his desire. After all, The Gentlemen functions as Ritchie’s tribute to imperial commerce, an era in which noblemen like Eddie dominated vast territories while working-class heavies supplied them with ceaseless service. The show also pays homage to Ritchie’s personal creative catalog, operating as a near replica of his entire previous filmography. In short, it is a high-octane romp populated mainly by violence, brawling, and tweed-clad pugilists bellowing “faaackin’ ’ell”. Yet in this instance, the sparkling momentum of his early productions gives way to a sluggish meandering that implies hesitation, or genuine dread, regarding the episode length. Regardless, the second season has arrived, matching the first entry in being irritating, gorgeously filmed, excessively lengthy, outrageously foolish, and intermittently hilarious.
When we previously encountered Eddie, he was swimming in money after teaming up with the chilly Susie Glass (Kaya Scodelario) to oversee the marijuana empire her underworld syndicate had established beneath his ancestral property. As for the present? He seeks even greater wealth and power, without question. Primarily, he aims to sever ties with Susie and her portly crime-boss father Bobby (Ray Winstone), who maintain leverage over him after settling the debts of Eddie’s fiscally reckless brother Freddy (played by Daniel Ings, easily the standout performer in this nonsense). Furthermore, our brawny lead seeks to expand into global illicit schemes through an Italian narcotics arrangement involving kingpin Marco Moretti (Sergio Castellitto). Additionally, he strives to secure a hereditary peerage. Achieving this would let him (a) sway legislation regarding cannabis legalisation and (b) strut across his estate wearing a cloak as expansive as Sussex.
In other subplots, viewers are treated to a motorbike pursuit, nonsense concerning a sought-after Botticelli painting, and a richly entertaining performance by Hugh Bonneville portraying the thoroughly corruptible Lord Hawthorne (“I am being greased!”). All the while, a consistently half-dressed Bobby shouts commands while alternating between his hot tub and sauna, seemingly striving to become history’s premier water-dwelling East Ender.
At the centre of these proceedings stands Theo James as Eddie, a muscular puzzle enveloped in dullness. What explains his lack of facial expression? Perhaps it is natural, perhaps it is cosmetics, or perhaps it reflects the reality that Eddie is less a fully realized persona and more a suit rack of muscle in formalwear, whose primary role is murmuring about financial margins while emotionlessly blasting the estate’s game birds to bits (“I shot another one, Geoff!”).
One finds a degree of comfort in Ritchie’s unswerving dedication to his signature aesthetic, finding stability in how his romanticisation of the aristocracy and fascination with rough-and-ready criminals endure unchanged in chaotic times. Yet the pacing drags considerably; despite all the globe-trotting antics and Cockney vernacular, audiences might still echo Bobby’s desire for the entire spectacle to “gerra faaackin’ move on”.
Originally published at https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2026/sep/02/the-gentlemen-season-two-review-guy-ritchie-theo-james-netflix.
