Michael Caine deserves all the plaudits he has received for this film. He shoulders the burden of the story with ease (there are very few scenes where he doesn't appear). His Jack Carter is calculating and uncaring, happy to murder or cause hurt to anyone who stands in his way – even if, as the cases of Keith, Glenda or Albert, he knows they are innocent. His dead eyes reveal a cold spirit, and you never for a moment feel that he's morally superior to any of the other characters. You're not even sure whether his quest to find his brother's killer is prompted by fraternal revenge or by simple rebelliousness against those telling him to pack it in and go home. There's no attempt (thankfully) to humanise him or find "reasons" for his criminality, as in so many poorer pictures. And yet you're carried along with Carter, fascinated by his destruction of the Newcastle criminal infrastructure.
We see the different faces of gangsterism close up. The violence, the amorality, the sexism we've seen in countless other films. But here we also see in detail the many quirks that we know real gangsters are prone to: cleanliness fetish (Carter obsessively polishing his British Rail spoon), hypochondria (Carter's apparently useless nose drops and pills), cruelty (Carter taunting his frustrated landlady in the famous phone sex scene), sentimentality (Carter crying at the Teacher's Pet porn film, while having demonstrated little interest in his niece – or possibly daughter – Doreen), callousness (his lack of compassion towards Keith after he is beaten up), fussiness (wanting his beer in a tall glass not a mug), foolish bravado (Carter walking naked into a street full of marching band members, carrying his shotgun), and untrustworthiness (Carter and Kinnear make a deal, selling out a fellow villain, then right away doublecross each other.) Then there's the chilling sight of Eric Paice's terrified eyes when Carter pulls off his shades – many a real-life gangster would understand that.
Each time I see this film, and I've seen it probably two dozen times – I'm always taken by the clarity of the narrative, by the well rounded characters (even those in bit parts), by the haunting Roy Budd score. But it needs to be said that, to the film's benefit, a number of unusual risks have been taken. For instance, the depiction of the characters benefits from offbeat casting. Glenda (Geraldine Moffat), Edna (Rosemary Dunham), Doreen (Petra Markham), Peter (Tony Beckley) and other well chosen actors fit their parts perfectly. Caine makes no attempt to hide his grown up, pale, lumpy body even when naked. The violence is not gratuitous, but when it appears we are shown its shocking effects full on. Plus, it also must have taken some courage to set the film in Newcastle – not usually first choice as a location for major films – which here, largely owing to the excellent Wolfgang Suschitsky photography, becomes a character in its own right.
We see the different faces of gangsterism close up. The violence, the amorality, the sexism we've seen in countless other films. But here we also see in detail the many quirks that we know real gangsters are prone to: cleanliness fetish (Carter obsessively polishing his British Rail spoon), hypochondria (Carter's apparently useless nose drops and pills), cruelty (Carter taunting his frustrated landlady in the famous phone sex scene), sentimentality (Carter crying at the Teacher's Pet porn film, while having demonstrated little interest in his niece – or possibly daughter – Doreen), callousness (his lack of compassion towards Keith after he is beaten up), fussiness (wanting his beer in a tall glass not a mug), foolish bravado (Carter walking naked into a street full of marching band members, carrying his shotgun), and untrustworthiness (Carter and Kinnear make a deal, selling out a fellow villain, then right away doublecross each other.) Then there's the chilling sight of Eric Paice's terrified eyes when Carter pulls off his shades – many a real-life gangster would understand that.
Each time I see this film, and I've seen it probably two dozen times – I'm always taken by the clarity of the narrative, by the well rounded characters (even those in bit parts), by the haunting Roy Budd score. But it needs to be said that, to the film's benefit, a number of unusual risks have been taken. For instance, the depiction of the characters benefits from offbeat casting. Glenda (Geraldine Moffat), Edna (Rosemary Dunham), Doreen (Petra Markham), Peter (Tony Beckley) and other well chosen actors fit their parts perfectly. Caine makes no attempt to hide his grown up, pale, lumpy body even when naked. The violence is not gratuitous, but when it appears we are shown its shocking effects full on. Plus, it also must have taken some courage to set the film in Newcastle – not usually first choice as a location for major films – which here, largely owing to the excellent Wolfgang Suschitsky photography, becomes a character in its own right.