The first half of Jonathan Glazer's psychological thriller Sexy Beast seems stolen straight out of Greek myth. At the film's outset, corpulent ex-gangland thug Gal and his wife, Dee Dee, are the picture of earthly contentment, living in their bone-white hacienda with a view of the sea and filling their days with basking by the pool and barbecues. Like a Fury descending on a hapless mortal, Don Logan descends on Gal and his Spanish Eden to cajole, badger, and bully him into helping on a big heist back in England. Gal and Dee Dee's dread and palatable tension over Don's imminent visit feels like an impending visit from the Grim Reaper. In the resulting psychological warfare, Gal -- whose bulky physique makes him look oddly feminine -- is utterly outmatched by Don (who looks like Anton LaVey in a leisure suit and who is a head shorter than his ursine adversary). Rigid, twitchy, and coiled, Don seems like he's one misspoken word away from an act of terrifying violence. Ben Kingsley is mesmerizing as Don Logan, who brings the act of swearing and verbal abuse to an exuberant art form. Unfortunately, once Don is dispatched halfway through the film, the movie seems to deflate. Once in Britain, Sexy Beast treads perilously close to the masturbatory camera trickery of a Guy Ritchie flick. Ian MacShane as Teddy Bass -- the architect of the heist and the uber-criminal of the movie -- conveys little of the menace and charisma of Don Logan. Of course, no one short of Darth Vader, Keyser Sose, or Satan himself could.