I saw this a couple of weeks ago. Guy Ritchie has no new ideas. This is a rehash of Lock, Stock and Snatch. Ritchie is the main villan in this film in the way that he criminally wastes the acting talent at his disposal. It is a career low for most involved. Piven and Luda are wasted in non-roles, the normally brilliant Wilkinson has to spout mockney rubbish dialogue. And to call his production company Toff Guy Films tells you everything you need to know about Ritchie and his upper class background. If you aren't British then you might not know his background.

At the end of the film he says they are going to be back in a sequal. Please no this film does not deserve a follow up. Anyway, i doubt he gets the funding for it.

This review is exactly how i feel about the film
http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2008/sep/07/actionandadventure

Guy Ritchie's return to form has been greatly exaggerated. The director has returned to familiar territory with his latest film, RocknRolla, but the cockney caper larkiness of his first and only enjoyable work, Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, is sadly missing
A 21st-century London crime story - complete with nods (butts?) to that genre's classics The Long Good Friday, Performance and even Eastern Promises - Ritchie's new work starts on a wrong note and never recovers. 'The London property market is booming,' says a voiceover straight out of the East End via Rada. 'And the only way is up.' Tell that to the bloke who has just valued my flat.

RocknRolla is the story of a disappeared rock star (Toby Kebbell), a Russian businessman (Karel Roden), a missing painting, a bunch of heavies (Gerard Butler, Idris Elba) and an underworld boss (Tom Wilkinson, a little bit Harold Pinter, a little bit Bob Hoskins and a lot out of place). Wearing killer heels is Thandie Newton as an accountant who knows where the money is and with whom to flirt. And the title? Well, as we're told during the credits, 'it's about more than drums, drugs and 'ospital drips... a rocknrolla wants the faahkin' lot'.

There's no real plot here, just a series of interlinked subplots, like Olympic circles with no end in sight. Various actors sniff and say: 'There's no school like the old school and I'm the faahkin' 'eadmaster.' People are bitter about doing a 'five-stretch thanks to a grass', and some people are into some other people for 'seven large', or maybe 'two large', if only someone would tell them how large that is, exactly. No time for that, though, what with 'two grams of Hurry Up and four Jack the Rippers' waiting at the backstreet gambling den.

For 40 minutes or so, you might buy this, but soon enough RocknRolla reveals itself to be a hollow pose rather than a film. At least in Lock, Stock..., the audience wanted the likable geezers to escape a gangland beating. Here, there's no humour and no sympathetic characters in a black hole of tedium, outmoded, flashy camera moves, yobbishness and mockney nonsense. Most distastefully, the work is riddled with issues about gayness, public schools and immigrants, with no directorial distance or judgment implied. I'd jog on if I were you.