49. The Long Good Friday
Get Carter has been referred to as the British version of The Godfather, and Layer Cake, the British Goodfellas.
If these comparisons hold up, then I believe that The Long Good Friday is the British Once Upon a Time in America; often forgotten about, but superior to
the rest of its gangster-movie associates. As with the best films, it’s difficult
to articulate why exactly I love Long
Good Friday so. For starters, the performances are sensational, and in some
cases, really quite powerful. Bob Hoskins’ descent into a poisonous mixture of
grief, regret and anger is one of the most chilling transformations in cinema,
and Helen Mirren’s decline from the beautiful and charming trophy-wife into
someone so shell-shocked and anxiety-ridden matches him. The soundtrack, too,
is absolutely incredible, and is instrumental in the build up in tension and
atmosphere which proves to be oh so important in the film making such a
profound impact on the viewer.
In all probability, my obsession with this film
lies in its pacing. The film moves very, very quickly, with numerous scenes of
shocking and unexpectedly brutal violence, and while confusing initially, it
becomes clear that this was the intention. We discover what happens at the same
time as Bob Hoskins’ gangster overlord, creating a far more relatable character
in what is, essentially, an unempathetic scumbag. The sheer scale and
circumstance is perhaps best hinted by the title. The film (mostly) takes place
over a single day. This day, as suggested, by the title, is Good Friday, a day,
of course, associated with the death of Jesus Christ. Hoskins believes himself to be untouchable; 'who would dare attack me!?' But if someone as powerful as Jesus can be defeated, anyone can, after all, he is only human. The choice of this
day in particular is but one of the many uses of examples of black humour used
by director John McKenzie throughout. Just as Jesus dies and has his fall,
Hoskins will have his own; his decline, and he has no choice but to suffer as a
witness to the collapse of his gangland empire around him, suffocating his
pride. I don’t see it as a Christian message, but more of a simple, moral one.
The veil of Hoskins’ hypothetical temple had been rent in two, from top to
bottom. Hoskins has enjoyed his immoral hedonism, and the ending, possibly the
most perfect ending in cinematic history, symbolises him receiving his overdue
justice, in the most delightfully cruel fashion. And it is stunning. One of the
few films which justify the term ‘masterpiece.’
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