As many of you know, I often get–oh how to put this–a little upset
at the ignorance of others. This is only because my own gaping
ignorance is a continual wellspring of pain, shame and self-loathing
and you know how your worst traits are the most annoying thing about
other people. Honestly, this site is called Ruthless Reviews and only just the other day did I watch one of the most Ruthless motherfucking movies ever made. Long Good Friday
is a powerhouse of a good gangster flick, front loaded with two of the
finest performances you are ever likely to see. Bob Hoskins and Helen
Mirren just sizzle and compliment each other like few other onscreen
duos. He is all rage and strength; rash brutality, to her cunning,
strategy and instinct for self-preservation. But again, I’m just
kicking myself that I have lived this long and not seen this film before now. And this film just turned twenty-five, so I really have no excuse. Ignorance…
I first heard about The Long Good Friday way back when Ruthless was getting going. One of the first films reviewed was the very, very Ruthless and enjoyable Sexy Beast. I became curious about British gangster flicks and was doing a little studying when I ran across something mentioning that The Long Good Friday was a predecessor and inspiration to Sexy Beast. Being an ignorant little shit, I was like, “yeah right.” Well people, the truth needs to be told. Sexy Beast ripped off one of its best scenes directly from The Long Good Friday.
Remember when Don Logan landed in Spain and was marching through the
airport like a “Scud missile?” Just prior to when we first meet Harold
(Hoskins), we see a Concorde docking at the terminal. Unlike Sexy Beast, which did sport a pretty decent albeit “retro” soundtrack, Harold struts–and I mean struts–through
the airport to some bad-ass late seventies jazz/new wave that very much
made me smile. Taking nothing away from Kingsley, but Harold looks like
a cross between a pitbull and… and, well, another pitbull. Any of you
remember the scene in The Terminator when Ah-nold is looking
for Reese and Sara in the parking garage and he scans back and forth,
left and right, like a great white shark? Guess what Hoskins was doing
as he was making his way out of the airport? Checking every single cunt
out to see who wanted some.
While the rest of the cast was pretty great (especially
Mirren), please allow to just linger on Harold for a second. I mean,
how can you not obsess over a character who says stuff like, ” I’ll
have his carcass dripping blood by midnight?” Actually, Harold is a bit
more witty than that, a bit more eloquent. My favorite line of his,
uttered with more disdain than most actors could conjure up in a
lifetime, was, “The Mafia? I’ve shit ‘em.” I probably oughts to tell
you a bit about the plot of the film so as you have some point of
reference. Harold runs London. Just simply runs the fucking place.
Everybody is in his pocket and on the take. Especially it seems, the
police. He has some grand scheme to turn a bunch of abandoned docks
into a giant real estate development. To carry out his master plan, he
gathers not only London’s wealthiest denizens, but also a guy from the
New Jersey mob. However, trouble is a brewing, and on Good Friday, his
Mum’s Rolls Royce gets blown up, killing the chauffer, his best friend
gets stabbed to death by Pierce Bronsnan (one of his very first roles),
and a bomb is discovered at his casino. To further fuck up his scheme,
as Harold is attempting to impress the Jersey mobster by taking him to
one of the former’s pubs (which he of course owns) it gets blowned up as they pull up.
The jist of the film involves Harold trying to figure out who is
throwing salt in his game, and why. He really is perplexed as the
following exchange of dialogue with his right hand man, “Razors,”
illustrates:
Harold: Who’s having a go at me? Can you think of anyone who might have an old score to settle or something?
Razors: Who’s big enough to take you on?
Harold: Well, there were a few.
Razors: Like who?
Harold: Yeah, they’re all dead.
And try as he might, Harold just can’t figure it out. So he calls a
meeting of his goons (who he calls “The Corporation”) and instructs
them to round up all the gangsters in town not directly working for
him. This plan culminates in one of the most brutal shows of force ever
captured on film. Harold’s men deliver the “suspects” to a slaughter
house in a refrigerated truck; bound gagged and hanging upside down on
meat hooks. One inside Harold simply tongue-lashes the helpless men and
I was positive we were about to get treated to a British
Valentines Day Massacre when the crooked police inspector shows up and
informs Harold that it is the IRA (or as Harold calls them, “the
pig-eyed Irish”) that is blowing his shit up all over town. You really
gots to see this movie, man.
Rarely do films inspire new Ruthless banners
(those things in the upper left corner of every page–hit refresh to
cycle through them/drive up our hits), but Harold not only deserves
one, but I might have to remove a few as they are so below par, in
comparison. Here’s a small list of some of the more hyper-agro shit
Harold pulls. While bracing a “grass” (Brit-gangsta speak for an
informant/stool pigeon), Harold hands Razors a machete and the truly
menacing henchman (P.H. Moriarty) begins slashing at the naked dude who
can do little more than scream and keep both hands over his dick. Oh
yeah! Before the knife fighting, Harold finds the grass in bed with a
woman. As Razors and another sidekick (Jeff, played by Derek Thompson)
drag the naked man into the kitchen, Harold is brooding around the room
and finds a heroin needle bedside. He starts commenting on how it used
to be such a nice neighborhood. Then he looks at the needle and says,
“Filth. Here have some more!” He then flings it at the naked doped out
chick like a dart. Fuck! I almost forgot that just before they get to
the grass’s house, they stop and ask a mechanic working under a car
which house it is. The mechanic says he does not know, so Razors kicks
the jack holding the car up out from under it. The mechanic manages to
roll out and he screams that Harold almost killed him, to which Harold
answers, “I don’t like looking up a man’s nostril when talking to him.”
Harold breaks a scotch bottle over a man’s head and then stabs him with
it in the neck. Repeatedly. And finally, there is the end of the film.
I won’t explain why or how, but suffice to say, the entire last scene
is just a close up of Harold; his face contorting and convulsing with
inspired anger and rage and it is oh so beautiful.
Special Ruthless Ratings:
- How’d you like them Cockney accents. This is one of the few movies made in the English language that would benefit
from subtitles. Apparently, for it’s American theatrical release, it
had ‘em. Luckily, I’ve been to London enough to catch about 85% of what
was being said. - More about that soundtrack: It was just really great. I love
music that was obviously thought of to be cutting edge at the time that
sounds shockingly dated now a days. Again, Fusion/Jazz/Rock/New Wave.
Very 1980. - You mentioned Helen Mirren briefly: Yeah, fuck, I should
have said more above. She almost steals the film from Hoskins, even
though she has a quarter of the scenes he does. And she looked lovely,
too. I agreed when Jeff told her, “I want to lick every inch of you.” - Can you talk about the cars: Yeah, so like this is my new
fetish. Production designers in films often fuck up cars. The clothes
might be right or whatever, but the cars that the characters drive are
fucked. Sideways was the first film I saw where I noticed this, only Sideways got it right. A beat up old Saab convertible was the perfect car for Miles to drive, perfect. Likewise, in The Long Good Friday, a Rolls Phantom, a Jag XJ and a bright red Mercedes convertible with matching hub caps are absolutely spot on. - Anything else: This movie kicks ass. Go rent it.
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