The Long Good Friday

The Long Good Friday (1980) provides an inventive twist on the gangster genre. As American flicks from Little Caesar through The Godfather comment on American society, John Mackenzie's film provides mordant satire on Thatcherite England. From its grisly violence to star turns by Bob Hoskins and Helen Mirren, it's a remarkable piece of work.

Harold Shand (Bob Hoskins) is a rough-hewn London mob boss. With deep business connections and a charming wife (Helen Mirren), he seems well-poised to enter honest society. But a series of assassinations and bombings forces Harold on the defensive. Harold suspects his underworld rivals, but it turns out he's facing a more fearsome opponent: the Irish Republican Army.

The Long Good Friday boils the gangster film to its crudest component: an allegory for capitalism. Harold becomes the ruthless self-made man of Margaret Thatcher's dreams. His business acumen extends to promoting future Olympic games; he even cultivates a "special relationship" with American gangsters who seem aghast at his brazenness. Then he mocks a black gangster (Paul Barber) for sleeping with a white woman, bemoaning how his neighborhood should be safe for "nice people." To the end, Harold thinks he can best the "Micks" with old-fashioned tactics. But political extremists don't respond to threats; Harold realizes, too late, that he's completely outclassed.

Mackenzie and writer Barrie Keefe hammer these analogies home, with Harold and Victoria counting officials and even members of the Royal Family among their associates. One crude moment sees Harold's lieutenant Jeff (Derek Thompson) explicitly comparing his boss to the British Army in Belfast. The analogies aren't subtle but effectively make their point: beneath Britain's genteel exterior lurks a ruthlessness beyond even American businessmen. After 2011's saturnine The Iron Lady it's nice to be reminded how divisive that era in British politics was.

The Long Good Friday feels constrained compared to its American counterparts: there are no stylized rub-outs like The Godfather, no slick montages or camerawork a la Goodfellas. Mackenzie prefers sudden bursts of brutality, like his gruesome beer bottle murder or the explosive climax. His London feels unremittingly seedy, from the London slums to the supposedly upscale pubs and swimming pools. There's no glamor in this underworld, only grime and death. Most stylish is the finale, where Harold reacts to his fate in long-held, heartbreaking close-up.

Bob Hoskins kick-started an impressive career playing one of cinema's more convincing gangsters. Hoskins' chumminess belies a feral nastiness, more crude than calculating; Harold reverts from businessman to street tough with little persuasion. Helen Mirren gives an equally impressive turn: unflappably civilized and collected, she seems the brains of the outfit. Paul Freeman (Raiders of the Lost Ark), P.H. Moriatry and Derek Thompson play Harold's flunkies. Pierce Brosnan makes his debut as an IRA hitman.

The Long Good Friday scores as allegory and crime saga. Few films more bluntly equate gangsterism with unrestrained capitalist avarice: Harold Shand would make Michael Corleone run crying for his mommy.