The nutty climax transforms kinetic stylistics from Tony Scott and John Woo into play, yet, for all the amplified rifle-cocking, the movie is as gently British as The Lavender Hill Mob or Wallace & Gromit: Curse of the Were-Rabbit -- there's real fondness not just for the crash-a-tons being referenced, but also for a homey, practically imaginary England that, filled as it is with buried skeletons, has more life than Shaun's literally zombified London.