BRITISH writer/director Martin McDonagh’s second feature film (he has also written several successful stage plays), presses all the right buttons spreading a layer of black humour over stylish violence.

Marty (Colin Farrell) wants to write a screenplay. He’s got as far as a title – “Seven Psychopaths” – when the dreaded writer’s block stalls him. His pals Billy (Sam Rockwell) and Hans (Christopher Walken) are eking a meagre living from holding kidnapped dogs to ransom. They catch a shih-tzu, unaware that it is the beloved pet of Mafia boss Charlie (Woody Harrelson).

Meanwhile, a guy wearing a red balaclava mask is ridding Los Angeles of hired killers and leaving an ace of diamonds as a trademark. And a lugubrious fellow who cuddles white rabbits for emotional comfort is a serial killer taking out serial killers who earn a living eliminating serial killers.

There’s choice material here for a crime-thriller comedy with prospects for distinction. The body count rises. Marty’s screenplay flounders. Charlie’s menace grows.

The screenplay (McDonagh’s, not Marty’s) offers the actors choice opportunities. Sam Rockwell and Christopher Walken are brilliant. And it delivers a steady flow of mordant humour in vignettes, back stories and connecting threads.

Quentin Tarentino, watch your back. There’s another kid on your block and he’s got big smarts, big style.

At Dendy, Hoyts and Limelight