Aforementioned badass.
Mullet to kill.
In which the boy casts a glance over the point where Maurice Micklewhite got decidedly more ‘gangster’.
Well… [SPOILER ALERT] no one ‘gets’ him. That’s for sure. Sorry if I rueened the film for you, but it’s still worth a watch; I personally had an inkling that the badass on the left of this text would survive. And I didn’t just think that because he’s wearing a three-piece suit.
You can most certainly see where Altman got his inspiration from when making The Long Goodbye – and that’s not the only time we’re reminded of Raymond Chandler throughout the film. Caine’s brooding Jack Carter reads a copy of Farewell, My Lovely on the train up to Newcastle, a nod to the neo-noir style being put across to us as an audience. The eponymous lead sulks his way from pillar to post, smoking and drinking his way through the city he defines. (Jesus, I’m channelling Chandler myself here.)
Suspicious of his brother’s ‘death’ back in his hometown, Carter travels from the deepest of the deep gangster-filled London town up to the north of the north, Newcastle. But there’s no happy ‘Why Aye”s waiting for him; just a ring of silence and a group of either convincingly inept or unconvincingly devious supporting roles. Conversations had, half over the shoulder and through the fuzzy head of the next victim/possible threat of Carter’s, give off the idea that there’s something hidden behind each play of the film. Much like the poker game of Kinnear’s – where our lead meets the unfortunate Glenda – each move, each answer, each sideways could be a bluff, an attempt to up the ante, or a wretched and lamentable tell. Only Carter will discover which is which, but will it all be too late?
As mentioned above, the camerawork within the film is possibly the most avant-garde I’ve seen in a British 70’s mainstream film. With long zooms, over-the-shoulder shots that bring the Bourne trilogy to mind (not so much jumpy, but odd-angled), the use of hand-held camera, unnervingly lingering shots…all rightfully ahead of their time and inspirational following on from this. The long zooms are particularly well used, emphasising Carter’s distance and disjuncture with his hometown; he may have grown up here, but take that step back and he’s a small part in a much bigger picture; a cog in the machine; a ‘cock-er-knee’ through and through, guv’nor.
I feel that overall, the film was a good first attempt at portraying the grittier side of the gangster genre in the UK. Both Quentin Tarantino and Guy Ritchie are massive fans of the film; it rewrote the intentions of the genre in the process, also showing a darker side to the already-famous Caine (“bloody doors…” and all that).
It’s Taxi Driver, if Bickle kept his cool; Gatsby with a gun. With the charisma of Caine, and the true grit of The Big Sleep, Get Carter is your classic revenge tale. Bloody to the last, it is a thrill-ride unlike any other at the time. After all, nothing beats a brisk walk stark bollock naked in Teesside.
Jack’s Return Home, or, “Haven’t I Seen Him in New Tricks?“: Inspired by Ted Lewis’ novel of the aforementioned name – and no less gruesomely told – Get Carter‘s Michael Caine incorporated knowledge of known criminal acquaintances he had back in the 60’s and 70’s. Which was probably everyone. Also, keep an eye out for New Tricks’ Alun Armstrong…he has a small supporting role, with not exactly happy-go-lucky consequences…
– TB
Stephen Fry’s directorial film debut flashes, splashes and dashes along at a riveting pace, swaying to the rhythm that each and every band produce at each and every party featured. While it is a strong movie, being equal parts trivial and sincere – McAvoy’s Simon Balcairn is boastful and arrogant, while Campbell-Moore’s Adam is modest; Emily Mortimer’s Nina and Fenella Woolgar’s Agatha are the antithesis of one another as the partying princesses; the dark tide of the Second World War rears its dark, foreboding head over the electric song-and-dance of the Bright Young Things’ era – the whole piece comes across as fun and frolicking, yet slightly flat.
Much like many a beloved ensemble piece produced either side of the Atlantic, we know – we know – everything is going to be alright in the end. The plotpoints are predictable, occasionally obvious to the point of alarm, and events that boost the narrative all seem a little too convenient. That said, I did enjoy what went on. Taken with a pinch of salt, each break was entertaining enough, each loose end was tied up tighter than a woman to a railtrack, and though the time for our protagonists comes to an end – in the form of WAR (you win some…) – each moves on as best they can. (Just to note: that’s not a spoiler, but more a fact.)
The characterisation of the piece is two parts Downton Abbey to one part Made in Chelsea; while each and every person is dressed head to toe in ‘white tie’, ‘black tie’ or ‘absurd fancy-dress tie’, they all mince about, coked up to the nines whilst throwing out the word “dahhhhling” more often than the word is said by Fry himself casually on QI. That said, none of this discredits the film at all – quite the opposite, in fact. McAvoy, Tennant, Campbell-Moore, Mortimer & Sheen all play their parts excellently, which can arguably be confirmed and shown through the various stratospheric lift-offs all of their careers had after this movie – some exponentially more stratospheric than others (“Dr Who?“/”He played the Prime Minister, Kenneth Williams, Cloughie, David Frost and a vampire or some shit?!”/”Narni-what?“).
As for the older clan…? The taller half of Fry & Laurie has roped in Simon Callow, Jim Broadbent, Dan Ackroyd, Julia McKenzie and even Peter bloody O’Toole in for those roles, so they are – as you’d expect – played with aplomb.
All in all, a decent piece. I did enjoy it, really. I think it’s just been satirised and parodied in various ways a tad too much nowadays, wherein it’s lost some of it’s shine. Nevertheless, a worthy watch.
Play That Funky Music…Old Chap: Surprisingly – or perhaps unsurprisingly, depending on…well, whether you’re interested or not, really – the majority of the soundtrack was a selection of standards, performed by that old “cheeky chic, posed and poised” [sic] character of the era, Noël Coward. The soundtrack was the one thing that really defined in what time the film was set. Nice one, Stephen. Not too shabby.
– TB
Having not watched the film until about a week ago, I was already aware of at least one scene: yes, you’ve guessed it…
“I’ll have what she’s having.”
I think anyone who knows what a film is knows this scene from When Harry Met Sally, which arguably plays to the film’s strengths; though a notable scene, and definitely the most memorable (orgasms, whether real or not, tend to do that to your memory) of the bunch, the film is completely different to that particular moment. I mean, quite apart from anything, due to Meg Ryan’s – well, y’know…outburst, shall we say? – this is the only part of the film I can think of that young William Crystal does not spend blabbering on. What I mean by this is it’s an immensely dialogue heavy movie. And I love it. The interplay between the two main characters – guess what their names are – is snappy, exciting, and keeps you watching.
Not only this, but having heard it was a romantic comedy…I wasn’t too confident. As you’ll see from my link – clearly written by a bitter, probably single, definitely sexually frustrated male – rom-coms have the rather negative stereotype of starring Matthew McConaughey with less clothes on than cells in his brain (…and having done my research? Dear GOD, he is in some wretched examples), with a soundtrack by Hanson and [insert poprock band of the noughties here], where the meet-cute isn’t relatively cleverly devised, but is probably something absurd, to do with a man’s ability to hear women’s thoughts (Nice one, Riggs) or tell a lie (..as for you, Gervais..why I oughta…).
So. I entered what I thought was dangerous territory with quite considerable trepidation. And more fool I. What came through in the first passage of the film was simply one thought: “I’m going to like this movie. I know I am.”
Though I’d only seen Billy Crystal in one other movie – with his neat little ‘fro, opposite the don of all actors – he really does shine in this. Fresh-faced (mostly) throughout the years, the conversations and the chance encounters, Harry and Sally hate, love, like, annoy and entertain one another on and off in equal measure. Meg Ryan, unfortunate though she is – having been thrown into what I would say is an unfair amount of stereotypical rom-coms more recently (get a new agent, woman) – has a rebuttal for almost every sweeping statement her counterpart makes in this film; you can see within the first five minutes that they’re meant to be together. What would this all be without a happy ending?
And there we have it. A romantic comedy that is actually funny, spanning the years and lives of our two protagonists, When Harry Met Sally is a joy to watch. Even for the bitter, single, sexually frustrated male.
It Had To Be True…: Not the actual story, silly. That’s just faff. But throughout the film, there are snippets of interviews with various couples, all who describe how they met to the camera. According to Rob Reiner, all of the information is real and factual; the couples did indeed meet in that way, but actors were then hired to play the parts of the married couples.
Beautiful stuff.
– TB
reviewtimewithtb 
