Though the American classic film noir cycle had mostly run its course by the late 1950s, its British equivalent kept calm and carried on well into the 1960s. One reason for the difference was broadcast television's much slower rollout in the UK. Hence, theatre audiences held up, as did their enthusiasm for low-budget, second-bill crime dramas. Part of the equation was the underlying and unforgiving grimness of post-war life in Britain. The human and economic toll of WWll upon its citizens had been devastating. Such a depressing psychic landscape provided the fertile ground on which film noir’s darker narratives might still fall and flourish.
The early ‘sixties saw the release of numbers of anxious and cheerless noirs such as ‘The Criminal’ (1960), ‘Hell is a City’ (1960), ‘The Frightened City’ (1961), ‘Payroll’ (1961), ‘Blind Corner’ (1963), ‘The Small World of Sammy Lee’ (1963) and the best of the multiple Merton Park ‘Edgar Wallace Theatre’ releases incl. ‘The Verdict’, ‘Act of Murder’, and ‘The Third Secret’ in 1964. These were followed by a couple of brutally cynical ‘spy noir’ titles, ‘The Spy Who Came in from the Cold’ (1965) and ‘The Deadly Affair’ (1966) both based on novels by John le Carré.
However, after the collapse of the nation’s prohibitive censorship regime in the late ‘60’s and early ‘70’s, the gloves came off. While many US crime dramas released during this ‘post-noir’ and formative ‘neo-noir’ period such as ‘Harper’ (1966), ‘Chandler’ (1971), ‘The Long Goodbye’ (1973), 'Chinatown' (1974), ‘The Drowning Pool’ (1975)’, ‘Night Moves’ (1975) and ‘Farewell, My Lovely’ (1975) still tilted towards a fated romanticism, Brit noir leaned in a far more violent direction. Instead of moody private dicks and their suspect clients, the British chose the devils they knew better – raging and brutish London gangsters (the heavy mob) fierce to go at it either with each other or off-the-leash coppers (the filth). If hazy sunshine and lucent swimming pools now were to be signifiers of American noir, it would be heavy skies and dank abandoned cesspits that would signpost the British. And here are ten films that left no doubt as to the difference.
1. Robbery (1967)
‘Robbery’ is closely-based on the famous real-life Great Train Robbery, news of which held the world in thrall in late 1963 and beyond. At the time of production, the actual events of the real-life robbery were still fresh in the public’s mind. With limited room for invention or surprise, ‘Robbery’ opts to focus on the planning, mechanics, and execution of things--starting with an audacious hit-and-run jewel robbery, the proceeds of which were needed to finance the train job. The sequence features the jaw-dropping car-chase that would help land director Peter Yates’ his next film, ‘Bullitt’, starring Steve McQueen.
‘Robbery’s mastermind, Paul Clifton, is played by the stolid Stanley Baker, an actor who, as someone once said, had 'a face like a fist'. Exchanges among Baker and crew are few and brief, sharpening the suspense. Though not much is said, it’s clear these are men never to hold down straight jobs or lead patient lives. Some are obsessed with money and status; others are just desperate not to return to prison. While Clifton instructs his gang, ‘no guns’, he keeps one close, telling his distraught wife Kate (Joanna Pettet) that he'll never go back inside. Meantime the police are aware that something dodgy is going on and that Clifton is involved. James Booth gives a prickly performance as the tenacious Inspector George Langdon, who’s got his suspicions, but has to fight to convince the higher-ups. ‘Robbery’ plays out like a rogue sporting event in which both sides evince grudging respect and some willingness to observe a few rules. It's a thrilling outing--whether you know the outcome or not.
2. The Strange Affair (1968)
After failing his university exams, Peter Strange (Michael York) joins the London Metro Police as a lark. Not long after, Peter gets involved with an underage waif, Frederica (Susan George), the two of them unaware that their sexual romps are being filmed by her aunt and uncle who are porn dealers. Peter's boss, David Pierce (Jeremy Kemp), who's obsessed with bagging Quince, once a cop and now a big-time drug dealer, comes by the footage and uses it to coerce Peter into planting drugs on Quince, setting him up for an easy bust. However, the case soon begins to fall apart, along with whatever's left of the careers of Pierce and Strange (‘A policeman’s lot is not a happy one.’, to quote from Gilbert and Sullivan). Directed by David Greene (‘The Shuttered Room’, 1967 and 'I Start Counting', 1970) the film is set at a time when London was still swinging and was a breakthrough in its daring. However, no matter how sensationally and stylishly told, ‘The Strange Affair’ is a melodrama of pure despair.
3. The Big Switch (1968)
Hard man, John Carter (Sebastian Breaks), pulls birds just for the asking. One night, he picks up a girl in a London bar and they go back to her place. Later, after going out for smokes, Carter returns to find her shot dead. Not appearing to care, he walks out. Days after, he's hauled back to the bar by some goons. Mendez, the sleazeball owner, tells Carter that he's got evidence linking him to the murder and offers him a way out–a 'job' in Brighton (‘Where the Filthy Rich Go for Dirty Weekends’). Carter, at this point, figures he doesn't have a lot of choice in the matter.
Directed by Pete Walker, once a bête noire of British cinema, ‘The Big Switch’ is a behind-the-counter guilty pleasure--largely due to a plot that keeps you guessing until it’s ready to offer up an explanation of what’s going on that doesn’t insult your intelligence. Given that the film was basically intended as a sex-and-violence exploitation title, 'The Big Switch’ is a pretty good deal. Walker works in an impressively compact and unflashy way, managing to shoe-horn smart bits of action/ titillation into otherwise mundane sequences. Walker made a point of getting up establishment noses (Monty Python's ‘toffee-nosed, stuffed-upped, sticky-beaks’). However, the British Film Institute since has given a special DVD release to several of Walker’s pulp noir entries-- demonstrating that some, if not all, has been forgiven.
4. Performance (1968)
Chas (James Fox), a violent East London gangster, needs a place to lie low after a hit that should never have happened. He finds cover in a guest house run by the mysterious Mr. Turner (Mick Jagger), a one-time rock star who’s looking for someone or something to rekindle a faded career. As critic John Simon said of the film at the time, “You don’t have to be a drug addict, pederast, sadomasochist or nitwit to enjoy it, but being one or more of these things would help”. Though it’s useful to include mention of ‘Performance’ here, there's no great need to dwell on it.
5. Man of Violence (1970)
Moon (Michael Latimer) is a bit of a lad. His clothes are stylish, his car is sporty and his women are choice. He’s also a go-between, a mercenary who sells his services to the highest bidder. He’s been hired by two gangsters, each of whom is paying him to spy on the other. While he’s happy to play along, it seems that both his employers also are busy scrambling to track down a huge amount of gold bullion removed from a recently-liberated African country. Moon realizes that with the stakes so high, being piggy-in-the-middle between two gangland villains isn’t the smartest place to be. He decides to go after the bullion on his own with a gorgeous blonde, Angel (Luan Peters) in tow, and the race across three continents is on.
‘Man of Violence’ was intended to be just another Pete Walker cut-and-run title. It only passed the British Board of Film Censors with major edits but still isn’t hurting for any lack of mayhem and sex – including an eye-popping scene in which Moon beds the boyfriend of a homosexual Member of Parliament in order to get information. Moon, if not likable, is at least entertaining--along with the film’s other characters, its under-control direction and cinematography, and a better-than-might-have-been-expected script. Walker’s films were always smarter than they at first seemed. He went on to find commercial success in noir-drenched 'terror' films but eventually packed it in to become a successful property developer.
6. Villain (1970)
The ‘Villain’ here is a London gangster named Vic Dakin, an unappealing and ruthless thug. Dakin (played by Richard Burton) rules his gang with an iron fist while loving both his old mum and his boyfriend, Wolffe (Ian McShane) with whom he likes some very rough trade. Dakin’s crime empire is built around drugs, gambling and prostitution. Hence, he’s not that enthusiastic when approached about pulling an armed robbery. But the £70,000 payoff proves too much to resist, even though Dakin is aware that Scotland Yard already is moving in on his gang. It’s a big chance to take but Dakin has insurance in the form of a packet of explicit photos of a Member of Parliament who will give him an alibi if he needs it. And he will.
With Dakin’s character based on real-life crime boss, Ronnie Kray, one-half of the infamous Kray twins, ‘Villain’ is a hard, brutal film. In that way, it's everything a British gangster movie should be, boasting a number of ever-capable British performers, including McShane, Nigel Davenport as Dakin’s nemesis Inspector Matthews, and Donald Sinden as the licentious Gerald Draycott MP. However, it’s Burton who grabs our attention by the throat. When the film came out, Burton was derided for his attempt at a cockney accent and for appearing sometimes content to just recite his lines. But critical hostility toward the film was all of a piece. ‘Villain’s throw-down of sadism, violence, corruption, and twisted sexuality in itself was sure to affront and offend. That Richard Burton would have been party to it all sent the nobs off the deep end. Since then, the thinking on ‘Villain’ has changed. While ‘Get Carter’ often is credited with having spawned the brood of noir British gangster thrillers to come, many of those offspring more resemble ‘Villain’, not a pretty picture, but a very good movie.
7. Get Carter (1971)
‘Get Carter,’ a dark and gritty revenge tragedy based on a novel by Ted Lewis and starring Michael Caine, generally is regarded as the best British crime film ever. Certainly, it's among the smartest and most stylish and its reputation only has grown in the years since its release. Made for a modest $750,000, the movie was savaged upon release for its disturbing violence and amorality and was dumped by its studio onto grindhouse and drive-in circuits in the UK and abroad. A review in the (London) Observer at the time said that the experience was like 'a bottle of neat gin swallowed before breakfast'. Today that sounds like a whole-hearted recommendation.
Michael Caine stars as Jack Carter, a London mob lieutenant who returns to Newcastle in the north of England to attend the funeral of his brother who'd died in car accident when driving drunk. Carter suspects his brother was murdered, a suspicion which both his bosses in London and gang leaders in Newcastle would like him to abandon. But Carter eventually finds out the actual circumstances of his brother’s death and begins to inflict serious pain and retribution.
‘Get Carter’ was the film that shattered Michael Caine’s reputation for playing posh lads and preening loverboys and his performance as a remorseless anti-hero wreaking havoc on Newcastle’s underworld is signature. Though Caine is in nearly every scene, the supporting performances are impressive, too--especially that of playwright John Osborne (‘Look Back in Anger’) as a local heavy, Cyril Kinnear. He’s ostensibly the villain of the piece–though Carter‘s own villainy and sex-and-violence-fueled lifestyle muddies the moral waters. Britt Ekland's around to add a touch of glamour as one of the film's throwaway females.
Given a lean direction by Mike Hodges and strikingly photographed and edited, ’Get Carter’ showed the world how much British crime films had changed by the early 1970’s. It not only reflected more liberal social attitudes and less stringent censorship laws but also the bleak realism of ‘60’s ‘kitchen sink’ dramas and television police series like ‘Z Cars’. Simply written and stripped clean of sentiment, 'Get Carter' was both of its time and well ahead of it. The movie remains as threatening today as the day it was released.
8. Sitting Target (1972)
‘Sitting Target’ is a coarse and bloody thriller offering a naked and no-holds-barred performance from Oliver Reed as escaped convict, Harry Lomart, who’s obsessed with getting revenge on his cheating wife, Pat (Jill St. John) pregnant by another man. Reed’s well-supported by Ian McShane as Birdy his more cheerful accomplice and Edward Woodward as the straight-edge copper who wants to offer Pat protection. Lomart's break from prison is just the first of the film's sensational set-pieces. In this lengthy sequence, he, Birdy, and another convict McNeil (Freddie Jones) manage to evade prison screws, guard dogs, and barbed wire, before negotiating a heart-thumping relay along a rope suspended above the yard. It’s thrilling action and leaves no doubt as to Lomart’s determination to get to his wife and kill her.
Like ‘Get Carter’, ‘Sitting Target’ has a documentary-like feel for its locations and settings. Director Douglas Hickox has London at its dingiest--polluted by industrialization, dominated by slums and tower blocks, and scabbed by rubble-strewn wastelands. It’s an anonymous place where streets and neighborhoods have been abandoned, or where those left behind live in fear. The film itself becomes increasingly fearsome as it moves towards its explosive ending. While ‘Sitting Target’ doesn’t achieve the depth or significance of ‘Get Carter’, the movie still rates as one of the most unforgettable and essential British crime noirs of the era.
9. The Offence (1973)
World-weary copper Detective Sergeant Johnson (Sean Connery) is a police force veteran of twenty years. The murders, rapes and other grievous crimes he’s had to investigate have left him raw with rage.
The long-suppressed anger finally breaks surface when Johnson goes in to interview a serial child molester, Kenneth Baxter (Ian Bannen), whom the detective is sure has carried out a series of brutal attacks on schoolgirls. During the claustrophobic questioning process, Baxter cunningly maneuvers Johnson into a face-to-face confrontation with his own demons. Johnson sees that his identity has become blurred with that of the criminals he despises--and that realization is unbearable. The interrogation ends in violence and an internal investigator, Lieutenant Cartwright (Trevor Howard) is left to try and determine what went wrong.
Directed by Sidney Lumet ‘The Offence’ is a cross between a police procedural and a psychodrama and is as grim and unfriendly as it sounds. The film was a self-conscious attempt by Sean Connery to distance himself fully from the Bond franchise following ‘Diamonds are Forever’. If that were his intention, it succeeded. Connery gives the best performance of his career. Though ‘The Offence’ didn't easily find an audience when first released, Ian Bannen received a BAFTA nomination for Best Supporting Actor. He didn’t win, but then to have awarded him would have given recognition to a movie that the British Academy was determined to ignore. Ben Johnson, took the prize for his performance in ‘The Last Picture Show'. As good as Johnson was, Bannen really should have got the cigar.
10. The Squeeze (1977)
Jim Naboth (Stacey Keach) is an ex-Scotland Yard detective turned London private eye. He’s also an alcoholic just out of detox who finds out his ex-wife Jill (Carol White) and his daughter have been kidnapped. Jill’s current lover, Foreman (Edward Fox), owns a fleet of security trucks and tells Naboth that Irish crime lord Vic Smith (Steven Boyd) wants a £1m ransom and company route plans in exchange. When Naboth starts out to try and find Jill, the villains then demand more–kill Naboth.
‘The Squeeze’is arguably the most sordid of the titles here-- and that’s saying something. Directed by a young Michael Apted, the film was described by a reviewer at the time as ‘a package tour of thuggery’. Included in that package is Smith’s right-hand man Keith (David Hemmings), a degenerate slime-bag who, in one scene, cues up The Stylistics’ ‘You Make Me Feel Brand New’ on the record player and makes Jill strip for him and his pals. It's a moment as deliberate and cruel as the infamous ‘ear’ sequence in ‘Reservoir Dogs’--and just as devastating.
That said, ‘The Squeeze’ at times is as brave as it is ugly, thanks to the challenging, self-deprecating performance from Keach, who brings a welcome humanity to this yarn. When Nadoth makes his entrance, he's at the low point of a weeklong bender, bleary-eyed and bleeding. He knows he’s killing himself with booze, but also he’s maybe got one last shot at redemption--helped along by his wingman, Teddy, a likeable low-life who manages to keep Naboth on something like the straight-and-narrow. Tough and tightly executed, ‘The Squeeze’ was mostly shunned at release. Today's audiences are more able to appreciate the film’s exhilarating pulp mayhem.
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But at the end of it all, the release of ‘The Squeeze’ effectively signaled the end of the transitional ‘60’s and ‘70’s heavy-mob cycle with its unreconstructed glorification of guns, girls, and gangsters. By this time, Brit noir was in need of something else that would renew it for popular audiences.
That something else was ‘The Long Good Friday’ (1980), a film that exploded off theater screens throughout the UK and abroad and one that would come to be recognized as the first British ‘neo-noir’ (a niche occupied in the American canon by ‘Body Heat’).
This densely-plotted film worked both as a straight-ahead gangster story and as a powerful and lasting metaphor for the state of contemporary Britain – a gangsterism of corrupt political and market forces aligned with a reverence for tradition and ‘Little England’.
That said, the whiff of social and political malaise hangs over much of British noir including these heavy mob titles. However, the ten films of this transitional cycle are both what were they were meant to be and what we would want them to be - compact and dangerous B noirs that go all-out to live up to the brazen and shameless promises of their lurid one-sheets and lobby cards.
Most are throw-back thrillers that go all-out but never wantonly sell out. Each is a better film than it deserved to be given limited budgets and ambitions and each a part of a critical sub-genre that had a dramatic and lasting impact on British film to come.
Gary Deane
But at the end of it all, the release of ‘The Squeeze’ effectively signaled the end of the transitional ‘60’s and ‘70’s heavy-mob cycle with its unreconstructed glorification of guns, girls, and gangsters. By this time, Brit noir was in need of something else that would renew it for popular audiences.
That something else was ‘The Long Good Friday’ (1980), a film that exploded off theater screens throughout the UK and abroad and one that would come to be recognized as the first British ‘neo-noir’ (a niche occupied in the American canon by ‘Body Heat’).
This densely-plotted film worked both as a straight-ahead gangster story and as a powerful and lasting metaphor for the state of contemporary Britain – a gangsterism of corrupt political and market forces aligned with a reverence for tradition and ‘Little England’.
That said, the whiff of social and political malaise hangs over much of British noir including these heavy mob titles. However, the ten films of this transitional cycle are both what were they were meant to be and what we would want them to be - compact and dangerous B noirs that go all-out to live up to the brazen and shameless promises of their lurid one-sheets and lobby cards.
Most are throw-back thrillers that go all-out but never wantonly sell out. Each is a better film than it deserved to be given limited budgets and ambitions and each a part of a critical sub-genre that had a dramatic and lasting impact on British film to come.
Gary Deane
