I have a confession to make; I do carry a torch for Danny Dyer and Jason Statham and Tamer Hussan. Whilst they are all actors of limited range, when they nudge up against the boundaries of what they are best known for, they do seem to rustle up a few surprises. I do feel a little troubled by the creative partnerships they find themselves in, especially when it comes to their mentors' characterisation (or otherwise) of women - Guy Ritchie and Nick Love neither seem that progressive or enlightened if their screen work is anything to go by. Yet I still find myself drawn to films that without those actors in them I would normally be repulsed by.
Love's
Goodbye Charlie Bright is stretching the idea of 'gangsters' a little thin, but it is essentially about gangs and tribes, albeit ones at the tamer end of the scale. It's about a small band of friends on a council estate, with Dyer as a peripheral figure. It doesn't really have much to say, but it is halfways articulate about it - friendship, growing up, the crossroads of life and all that. Ultimately the film rejects gangsterism. On the other hand, Dyer's more recent effort,
Straightheads is a short and unpleasant film about gang mentality as seen from the victim's perspective. It drifts into exploitation revenge thriller, but it starts strong. It's written and directed by documentarist Dan Reed, who also husbanded
Shooters, which I mentioned yesterday.
The Business is a nice little Costa del Crime morality play by Love, with Dyer a wide-eyed young go-getter attracted by the pretty women, fast cars and drug money. Tamer Hassan is very likable in it too. And there's unpleasantness along the way. It reminds my of a less pretentious Jake Arnott story, blending together many real life events and characters into one tidy plot-driven tall tale (see
The Long Firm and
He Kills Coppers). You could say similar things of the recent Jason Statham heist flick
The Bank Job, though it gets far too muddled halfway into the picture, and the brio soon wears thin.
Sticking with the Dyer/Hassan/Love axis, there's - if we extend the gangster remit to include organised football violence -
The Football Factory. Again, it's all about boys and their balls, but it does at least acknowledge the innate misogyny of it all from the beginning, unlike the glossier and far more contemptible
Green Street. And it has Frank Harper in it. Frank Harper, you may remember, was one of the few truly excellent things in
South West Nine.
Keeping with the hooligan trope, we might wander through
The Firm by Alan Clarke and
ID. Phil Davis featured in the former as blond yuppie yob Yeti; the latter was directed by him. Broadening our parameters, we might even consider Clarkie's other work: the virtually dialogue-free
Elephant is a meditation on tribal violence in Northern Ireland in which context and justification is completely removed, political struggle of all flavours reduced to nothing more than unrelenting, unsexy, unclear moments of sudden brutality. And of course the borstal portrayed in
Scum is an institution riddled from the top down with gangs, young and old, in authority and beyond it.
Bringing things more firmly back into the organised crime fold, we return to Phil Davis, who is an old-fashioned British hoodlum in the Antonia Bird-Ronan Bennett blagger mystery
Face. This film shares its half glossy, half gritty tone with
ID; both are rooted in kitchen sink drama and polemical film making, and yet both also try and up the adrenal ante. This approach was supplanted by the late nineties by the balls-out, day-glo sadism perpetuated by Guy Ritchie, and helped give us
Layer Cake, a fast-moving movie about the shift in the British underworld from high risk/low yield armed robbery into the money machine that is drugs trafficking. Again, women are low down the filmmakers' priorities; again, second string characters are relegated to two-dimensional ciphers or humorous turns; again Tamer Hassan has little to do but does it well. Still, it provided Daniel Craig with his calling card for Eon, and older character actors like George Harris, Colm Meaney, Kenneth Cranham and Michael Gambon are all given a chance to shine.
(Talking of Gambon, and returning to the
Elephantine idea of Northern Irish political gangsterism, he was excellent as a Loyalist godfather in the mid-seventies ceasefire set
Nothing Personal.)