The first indication we get that Harold Shand most certainly isn't the legitimate businessman he aspires to be comes shortly after he learns of an attempt on his mother's life that has put an employee in the morgue: after coming to the conclusion that this is the work of a maniac, he calmly declares that he'll "have his carcass dripping blood by midnight". Without shouting about it, the movie makes it clear exactly what kind of man Harold is. 'The Long Good Friday (1980)' is about an unpleasant person having an unpleasant day. Taking place within a single 24-hour period, the picture depicts its protagonist's crime empire coming under fire from an unknown threat as he scrambles to regain control before a lucrative deal with the American mob goes the way of the dodo. The unashamedly cockney feature feels incredibly specific to a certain time and place, tying the traditional gangster genre to contemporary political and social issues without sacrificing the surface pleasures that have made it so long-standing. With an undercurrent of jet-black humour that mimics classic British self-deprecation, the piece progresses towards its inevitable yet somehow surprising climax with ease. Although the plot essentially bounces back and forth between dead ends, the narrative is consistently compelling and feels kind of like watching a train wreck in slow motion. Because there's no real reason to care for the protagonist other than the fact that we all know what it's like to have a bad day at work (albeit to a lesser degree than what's seen here), the film puts you in a somewhat objective perspective and allows you to simply observe its events. It doesn't feel particularly cold or anything like that, and it's still really gripping even though you don't really relate to anyone on screen. It's able to focus entirely on unsavory characters and implicitly decry their lifestyle simply by showing its often vicious consequences. The to-the-point direction aids in this, maintaining an intangible distance even during the most intimate moments of mourning and the most explosive moments of anger. The performances are on the money pretty much across the board, with Bob Hoskins delivering a towering turn as the sledgehammer-in-a-suit of a protagonist and Helen Mirren giving what could be a fairly throwaway character a lot of internal depth. The feature is a veritable who's who of British character actors from a certain era, too. It's really enjoyable to see someone you recognize pop up - whether it's Paul Freeman, Kevin McNally or Pierce Brosnan (among many others) - and the giddy kick it gives you almost feels like the equivalent of when a cameo character pops up in a Marvel movie or when Albert Einstein first shows up in the trailer for 'Oppenheimer (2023)'. It's a weird, instinctual pleasure that has no real basis in logic - or bearing on the quality of the picture - but is worth mentioning nevertheless. Ultimately, this is a really solid gangster movie with unlikable yet compelling characters (I could have done without the racism, but I suppose that adds to the lead's unpleasant nature) and a sense of impending doom that grows with each passing scene. Its central mystery is satisfying and also has several layers to it, so you likely won't guess what's going on even if you cotton on to one or two suspicious characters before their true actions have been revealed. The music takes an unexpected yet enjoyable approach, the infrequent violence is suitably brutal, and the performances are all really believable. It's a solid crime-thriller with a strong thematic underpinning and a confident aesthetic.
"There's a lot of dignity in that, isn't there? Going out like a raspberry ripple."
"There's a lot of dignity in that, isn't there? Going out like a raspberry ripple."
