Guy Ritchie’s fourth film, Revolver, was received quite poorly by critics. The British director, known for his stylish crime films, had become a prisoner of his own image. While Revolver outwardly appears to be yet another gangster movie, it is actually a complex psychological puzzle. Ritchie himself has said it’s his favorite of all his works and that he wanted to make it no matter what. This breakdown is meant to explain the film’s hidden messages.
Everything that happens in the film, in one way or another, is part of a game. The idea to include this motif came from the director’s passion for chess, which he enjoys playing with actors during filming breaks. On the sets of Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch, Ritchie was often joined at the game table by Jason Statham, also a chess enthusiast. That’s why Statham’s inclusion in Revolver is quite natural, as is the connection between chess and the main rules of the game and con, voiced by the protagonist Jake Green:
“You do everything yourself, I just help you. The trick is, by giving away the pieces, I make you think you took them yourself. In every game and con, there’s always a player and a victim. The more the victim thinks they’re in control, the less they actually are.
The first rule of the game or con: only by playing a smarter opponent can you become smarter.
The second rule: the more sophisticated the game, the more sophisticated the opponent.”
These rules are the key to understanding everything that happens in Revolver. Jake Green, Macha, Lord John, and even the three Eddies — all of them experience the consequences of these rules and end up as victims. But at the moment Jake says these words, once again beating Avi in chess, he still believes that he’s the player — the smarter opponent.
“Mr. Mystery, Mr. Caution, Mr. Enigma. No one sees Gold, but Gold sees everyone” — that’s how the characters in Revolver describe Sam Gold.
In reality, this is just one of many metaphors in the film — a description of something that exists inside every person: the ego. If you replace “Sam Gold” with “ego,” everything becomes immediately clear. Just recall this monologue by Avi:
“He sits in your head, pretending to be your inner voice. Everyone’s in his game. And no one knows it. And everything around you — that’s his world. He owns it. He controls it. He’s behind all the pain, all the crimes. He’s the only truly existing enemy.”
That’s why no one sees Sam Gold — because he resides in our minds. He is the most skilled opponent in the game that everyone plays. Guy Ritchie uses the image of a serpent coiled around the world to represent Gold. If you watch the film attentively, you’ll frequently notice this symbol — in statues, tattoos, and other visuals. Another sign of Gold’s presence in Revolver’s world is gold itself (from the English word “gold”), which is found in abundance in Macha’s surroundings.
The decor of Macha’s apartments is predominantly Egyptian, and he frequently tans in a solarium, giving his skin a bronze hue — like a pharaoh sitting in his pyramid-casino. That’s because Macha, more than anyone else in Revolver, belongs to Gold’s world; he is Gold’s embodiment.
The elevator scenes are yet another metaphor, where the elevator cabin symbolizes Jake’s head, in which his mind and ego are in constant dialogue. That’s why these scenes are accompanied by close-up shots of Jake’s face — so the viewer is brought as close to him as possible, able to almost read his thoughts and catch every emotion.
This technique also creates a sense of claustrophobia — something Jake’s ego deeply fears, as it is locked inside his mind and wants to break free. This fear is transmitted to Jake, who is still dependent on his ego at that point.
This phrase is repeatedly spoken by Zack, looking piercingly at Jake in the moments when Jake hears a voice in his head — a voice that is, in fact, the voice of his ego.
This phrase is linked to a very unusual scene where Jake is supposedly hit by a car. It’s a beautifully shot scene in slow motion, which at first glance might seem meaningless. But in Revolver, there are no meaningless scenes — especially not dialogues.
“There’s something inside you. Something you don’t even know is there. Something you’ll deny, until it’s too late to do anything about it. It’s the only reason you get up in the morning, put up with the crap job, the blood, the sweat, the tears. All of it, just so people can know how great you are. How good, attractive, funny, smart. Fear me, love me, judge me — but please think I’m special. We’re addicts, hooked on approval. Because we’re just monkeys in suits, begging for each other’s acceptance. If we knew that, we wouldn’t behave the way we do. But someone’s hiding it from us.”
Jake’s mind is always asleep — his ego rules within his head, having convinced its host that it is the voice of reason. That’s why Zack tells Jake to wake up. And that’s why, lost in thought and distracted by the ego’s voice, Jake steps into the street and doesn’t notice the oncoming car — the collision symbolizing the moment when it becomes “too late.”
“They crossed Sam Gold — and he didn’t touch them. No one who crosses Gold lives. There’s something wrong with them if Gold let them walk away.”
The answer to this mystery comes at the very end of the film, when Avi and Zack confess to Jake that they are his former cellmates — masters of chess and cons. But that’s only a shell, a cover for another essence, which can be best described as a “sixth sense,” “premonition,” or rather — “the subconscious.”
Yes, in reality, Avi and Zack never existed. They are projections of Jake’s imagination. They even say it themselves: “We are you.”
They are not part of Sam Gold’s system — that’s why he never touched them. And that’s also why they were able to escape from prison — which is, once again, just another metaphor:
“The more power you think you have in Sam Gold’s world, the less you really have. You’re in prison, Jake. In fact, you never left it.”
Avi and Zack appeared as a result of Jake’s extended stay in solitary confinement — where he was finally able to hear the voice of his own reason, free from the ego’s influence, since the outside world and its temptations had become inaccessible.
Jake then developed that voice — by reading books, improving at chess, and truly learning to think.
The Sorter himself — a top-class hitman who never misses — explains his failure with a “bad feeling.” And to understand the true meaning of these words (which even the Sorter himself doesn’t fully grasp), we first need to answer another question: what makes him the best at what he does?
It’s that very same sixth sense — intuition or subconscious awareness — which is more developed in him than in most people.
Remember who comes to Jake’s aid to get him out from under a hail of bullets? Zack — that is, Jake’s subconscious. This same subconscious, the Sorter’s true inner voice, tells him what’s right and what’s wrong — and it’s also what connects him and Jake on a deeper level.
That’s why the killer cannot bring himself to harm Jake.
The Sorter only kills truly bad people. Causing pain to the good goes against his true inner voice, which in this case functions as a conscience. This is illustrated in the scene where Macha’s men threaten Jake’s brother’s young daughter — and the Sorter snaps, unleashing a massacre in the house.
But in the end, he is struck down — killed from behind — a moment in which his intuition fails once again. He wipes the blood from his glasses, and perhaps this too is another metaphor: the glasses represent his conscience, now covered in too much spilled blood.
At the very end of the film, Avi and Zack tell Jake they couldn’t take him with them when they escaped from prison because “he wasn’t ready.” The entire film, in fact, is Jake’s preparation for a battle with his only real enemy — his ego.
“You’ve been hearing that voice for so long, you think it’s your own. You believe it’s your best friend… You protect it with your pain. Understand the nature of the pain, and you’ll win the game. Change the rules of what controls you — and you will control it. Use anything that causes that pain to draw the enemy’s attention…”
Following Avi’s guidance, Jake meets with the person he previously believed to be his true enemy — Macha. He apologizes to him and appeases Macha’s ego by acknowledging his superiority. This is the final step, preparing Jake for the ultimate confrontation with his ego. After all, by Avi and Zack’s design, he had already lost his money. Now, he had to lose his pride. And then — the enemy comes.
The stunning elevator scene is the pivotal moment of the entire film. We see Jake in two forms — one is his true self, and the other is a kind of madman. This “other” version is the inner voice, the ego, which is now appearing in full view for the first time.
This is the moment of revelation and the admission of self-deception, which ends with Jake saying:
“I am not you.”
That declaration sends the ego into a rage — it tries to break out, to destroy the elevator walls. But now it’s impossible. Jake is in control of his ego.
You can never fully get rid of the ego — it even shoots itself, but survives. Still, it can be controlled. It can be locked deep within the mind.
Now the elevator becomes a prison for the ego, instead of Jake being a prisoner of the world shaped by the ego.
From this moment on — Jake is free, for the first time in his life.
When the elevator doors open, Jake is staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. In front of him stands the man he once believed to be his greatest enemy. But Jake has already defeated his true and most skilled adversary — his own ego. That’s why there is no fear or pain in his heart.
He smiles in the face of death — he has achieved a state of genuine spiritual enlightenment.
Macha asks, “What game are you playing?” But for Jake, the game is already over. He has won.
“Fear me” — Macha doesn’t just say it; he begs. Tears are in his eyes. The gun in his hand is trembling.
Jake silently walks away. The shot changes, and we see the tattoo of a serpent — the symbol of the vanquished enemy.
The religious theme in Revolver is not limited to this scene. Even the characters’ names point to biblical patriarchs: Avi is short for Abraham, Zack for Isaac, and Jake for Jacob.
And three days later, Zack greets Jake with the words:
“Three days have passed, and you’ve come back to life.”
This is nothing less than Jake’s resurrection — a direct reference to the most important event in Christianity.
When Jake arrives for his final meeting with Macha, the latter asks him:
“What game are you playing?”
But Jake no longer plays the game Macha remains trapped in. That makes Jake untouchable — even though Macha has a gun in his hand, he’s powerless. And he feels it.
We see his ego crying.
Ritchie, as in the earlier elevator scene, uses the same technique — a rapid cut to show the inner workings of the character, his other side.
“Where’s your pride?” — the ego cries out to Macha’s reason.
The mind responds almost immediately:
“Better I kill myself than let Gold do it.”
This tragic choice seems, to Macha, like the best possible outcome — although the enlightened Jake would certainly disagree. Jake looks at him not with a smile, but with gentle sorrow.
Still, he doesn’t interfere with another man’s decision.
A shot rings out.
Then — darkness. No epilogue. No credits.
Mister Green
