It might as well been called I Loved the End of World War II!, this irksomely grainy, black-and-white documentary about a collective of East End, London, gangsters, or as they prefer, “villains.” Only the funniest aspect in what amounts to little more than a collection of cloudy-eyed talking heads dutifully running down the list of pertinent topics (boxing, bullies, violent acts, thievery, squealing, prison, family, each other, changing times, regrets, etc.) is how the out-and-out thugs rationalize the misdeeds they’ve done as necessary and, at times, heroic. Even the Sopranos, after all, were above biting out a rival’s throat.

The End’s overarching goal is to promote a bit of compassion and encourage the audience to see things from the subjects’—including director Collins’ father—very Cockney (so much so that most require subtitles) point of view. Yet there is very little engaging forward movement, and the reaction to a characterization of the group as “all good people” is to snicker, particularly in light of the two religious converts amongst them. When one claims, “There’s a difference between being respected and being feared,” you almost wish there was a third option: being condemned to a life of scared-straight speaking engagements.