The Long Good Friday is part of a fascinating breed of films which are simultaneously of their time and completely ahead of the curve. It is the near-perfect marriage of the crime thriller conventions of the 1970s, as pioneered by Get Carter and The French Connection, with an enticing… More
The Long Good Friday is part of a fascinating breed of films which are simultaneously of their time and completely ahead of the curve. It is the near-perfect marriage of the crime thriller conventions of the 1970s, as pioneered by Get Carter and The French Connection, with an enticing political subtext about the 'Me Generation' and the government of Margaret Thatcher. It's hard to watch it thirty-one years on without it seeming prophetic in terms of the political and social change which swept through Britain in the 1980s. But neither has its lost any of the charm or shock value which made it such a hit the first time round.
The comparison with Get Carter is more than justified, since it is probably fair to say that without Mike Hodges' powerful film, The Long Good Friday would not exist. Both films are low-budget, gritty crime thrillers which are carried by the riveting performances of their respective leads, Michael Caine and Bob Hoskins. Both in lesser hands would have been nuts-and-bolts revenge movies, but they survive thanks to the quality of their scripts and the relevance of their substance.
What they also share, more unfortunately, is a slow and incoherent opening. The first 20 minutes introduce us to a whole host of characters in a very disparate fashion, something which is only partly accidental. Director John Mackenzie had always intended the initial scenes to be distracting, to make the world of Harold Shand appear more complex. He originally envisaged a very ambitious opening, with location shots following the briefcase of money over the Alps, but producer Barry Henson thought this detracted from the film's focus on London. All the threads are eventually tied up, but even in its existing form the opening is too long, to the point at which you consider giving up.
Things pick up permanently however, with the first sight of Shand, played by Bob Hoskins. The opening shot of him striding through Heathrow airport, backed by Francis Monkman's brilliant soundtrack, perfectly captures the confidence and arrogance of the man with the whole of London at his feet. This is a man who has kept the peace for ten years through influence and intimidation, even when his underlings were "out of order". It's a well-judged and ironic introduction, since this is the happiest we will ever see the character be.
The character of Harold Shand conveys the central theme of the film, namely the decline and fall of an empire through a potent mix of outside pressure and personal tragedy. As in Shakespeare's King Lear, we first see the kingdom (or 'corporation') in good health, with the deal with America standing in for Lear dividing his kingdom among his daughters. Shand is Lear-like in that he is so self-confident, so certain that he is right, that he is blind to where his real enemies lie; and much like Donald Sutherland in Don't Look Now, everything makes sense only when it is too late.
Within this there are two separate subtexts. The more obvious of these is the threat of the IRA, in particular to the traditional structures of crime. The original title of Barry Keefe's screenplay was 'The Paddy Factor', and the film's eventual title refers not refers not just to the period of time which passes, but in a twisted way to the shadow the IRA casts -- 'the long Good Friday' could be a synonym for the Troubles or 'long war'. What The Long Good Friday does so well is to explore the nature of this organisation and show how its existence is a very real threat to the existing order. Many films about the Northern Irish conflict, like Michael Collins, have kept the war at arms' length from Britain, portraying the IRA as 'them lot over there'. Here they are not distant warriors but cunning infiltrators, an enemy which neither the police nor the criminal underworld can understand, let along contain.
The other, more unintentional undercurrent is about the resurgence of free-market capitalism and the legacy of Thatcher. Shand refers to his empire as 'the corporation' rather than any kind of 'gang', and the film draws an analogy between the dismantling of socialism and the violent takeover of London, both by Shand and the IRA. When Shand delivers his big speeches at either end of the film, they are conveyed with maximum irony; he exudes that very 1980s mix of endearing ambition and selective xenophobia, both of which are smashed in the final scene. Subsequent films like Wall Street and American Psycho have handled 1980s greed in more upfront ways, but both lack the sense of self-reflexive subtlety at the heart of this film.
Much like American Psycho, The Long Good Friday also has a very real sense of humour. The script is gritty and intense but has a succession of corking one-liners which consolidate the dark setting while humanising the characters. Most of these are Shand's lines, and Hoskins delivers them brilliantly in what is still his finest performance. While on the top deck of his yacht waiting for Charlie to arrive, he remarks that "the Yanks love snobbery. They feel they've really arrived in England if the upper classes treat 'em like shit." Later, finding out about the car bomb, he exclaims: "You can't go crucifying people outside a church, not on Good Friday!" -- a line which really captures the mood of the whole film.
She may not have as many killer lines as Hoskins, but Helen Mirren's performance as Victoria is every bit as captivating. Her character is the brains and dignity to Harold's muscle and rough, hands-on style. The power he possesses is a natural aphrodisiac, and yet she is not simply an air-headed bimbo who constantly requires his aid. At several key moments her intelligence saves his life, and yet she remains as vulnerable as anyone on screen.
The film is also visceral and incredibly violent at times. In the first half hour we have a car bomb and a man being stabbed in a shower by a very young Pearce Brosnan (his first film). Later we have a man being literally crucified and nailed to a floor, and Hoskins smashing in a young man's neck with a bottle. But despite these outbursts, The Long Good Friday is not a film which relies on the violence to do the hard work, either by making us enjoy it or using it to pad out the plot. Its best scenes are those which are dialogue-heavy, in which egos clash and the sparks come not from the guns but from the level of tension hardwired into the script.
The Long Good Friday is a near-perfect gangster film which looks more prophetic and intelligent with every viewing. It is a great slice of late-1970s cinema which together with Life of Brian helped to establish Handmade Films as a great low-budget film company. Despite the slow opening and the occasional scene which now seems clichéd, it follows through with its ideas and intentions, giving us plenty to chew on while we take in this dark world. It has survived all subsequent imitations, right down to the worst work of Guy Ritchie, and its influence is assured for the next thirty years. When all other British crime films let you down, this is where you should turn.
