Why isn’t James McAvoy a bigger star? He’s been part of Oscar winning efforts (The Last King of Scotland), mainstream blockbusters (Wanted, X-Men: First Class) , and quirky indie efforts (The Last Station, Trance) and yet he’s still considered a bit of a B-lister. He doesn’t open a film, he’s not automatically assumed for the lead in upcoming prestige productions, and while giving great performance after great performance, he seems stuck in the same subpar career arc as Clive Owen and Jude Law (read: good looking guys—god-awful script choices). Filth, his latest effort, will be viewed as yet another foray into confused career territory. McAvoy himself is terrific in the film, giving the kind of tour de force turn that would normally land one an Oscar nod. Instead, the rest of Jon S. Baird’s adaptation of Irvine Welsh’s novel undermines the very power his onscreen personality is generating.