Plastic

This could have been a clever modern thriller using clever modern techniques. In the 21st century why bother with bank heists and train robberies when internet hackers and credit card fraudsters can make £2million in two weeks?

Thrillers of note treat The Cliche as a no-go area. If something as hackneyed as a con artist's comeuppance reaches new heights of excellence in American Hustle, this Brit crew can do the same with Plastic. But they don't. Why not?

Two students find a way of financing their uni loan by perfecting black market deals and forging credit cards. They bring in a rookie street hustler and his apprentice to increase the volume of theft, except the newbie hard man prefers a baseball bat to a computer screen, which gets them into serious trouble with East European heavies who actually kill people.

Subtle? Maybe not. But there is potential. There's also a girl who plays the field and adds a spark of what might be called chemistry.

Problem 1: they are not likeable.

Problem 2: they go to Miami and behave like lads at a stag night with other people's money.

Problem 3: the scriptwriters take a shower.

The "clever modern potential" is wasted in a mish-mashed shoot out and stupid behaviour. It looks like a made-for-TV-movie, with nothing cinematic, nothing original.

The students are out of their comfort zones. The side effects of bad decisions, such as betrayal and greed, don't shock or surprise any more.