The Range Rover Trick Guy Ritchie Uses to Signal Power
Watch any recent project from Guy Ritchie—especially Netflix’s The Gentlemen—and a pattern becomes hard to unsee. The most dangerous characters don’t drive sports cars. They arrive in Range Rovers, Bentleys, and other big, expensive SUVs that look like they’ve already won. You can see the show’s whole vibe packaged right on the official The Gentlemen series page on Netflix: suave, controlled, and quietly menacing.
That choice isn’t accidental. Ritchie understands that cars still work as character shorthand. He’s simply updated the language. In his world, power doesn’t arrive screaming at redline. It shows up quietly, idles calmly, and doesn’t care who’s watching.
Sports cars project aspiration. They’re loud, fragile, and performative. Ritchie’s SUVs project inevitability. They suggest money that didn’t need permission, confidence that doesn’t seek approval, and mobility that works anywhere. A city curb or a country estate makes no difference.
That’s why British luxury SUVs play so well on screen. A Range Rover doesn’t say “look at me.” It says “this will be handled,” which aligns perfectly with the brand’s own “modern luxury” positioning on Range Rover’s official site. A Bentley Bentayga doesn’t flex speed so much as access, comfort, and consequence—basically the mission statement Bentley bakes into its Bentayga model page.
Hollywood has always used cars to telegraph masculinity. Ritchie just stripped away the obvious choices. No neon paint. No carbon wings. No juvenile theatrics. Just vehicles that imply control.
The SUV as the New Power Suit
In Ritchie’s films and series, SUVs function the way tailored suits once did. They’re signals. They tell you who runs the room before anyone speaks. They imply preparation, reach, and consequence.
That lands right now because masculinity itself has shifted. The modern ideal favors restraint over flash and competence over theater. People still want luxury—but they want luxury that survives weather, terrain, and inconvenience. They want vehicles that don’t feel precious when conditions get messy.
That sensibility also explains why luxury brands lean so hard into rugged credibility. Porsche didn’t give the 911 Dakar a rally identity by mistake; Porsche’s own 911 Dakar intro sells the idea that capability is part of the flex. Ritchie didn’t invent the change. He just recognized it early—and cast his cars accordingly.
My Verdict
The most interesting vehicles in Guy Ritchie’s work aren’t fast or futuristic. They’re confident. They sit quietly in the frame and do exactly what their drivers expect of them.
That’s why these SUVs linger long after the scene ends. They don’t shout. They don’t explain themselves. They simply look like they belong wherever they are—and that’s still the most convincing form of power on screen.