Get Michael Caine!

We often say, upon reaching the end of a movie made long ago, "Well, they don't make them like that anymore." Sometimes this is a compliment for the movie, or a dig at the shoddy crap shoveled into most theatres most of the time these days. Sometimes we deliver it with an eye-roll and a shrug, as in, "Thank God they don't make them like that anymore."

It seems to me they don't often make movies like Mike Hodges' 1971 film Get Carter anymore. And it is a shame. Not to say it is a perfect film, nor even to claim that it somehow enlarges our understanding of humanity. But it explores a certain layer of society, and a place, and a time, that few of us have known.

The plot is so diffuse, it would be difficult to spoil it, even if I tried. Jack Carter, hood henchman to a London gangster, returns home to Newcastle to find out how, and why, his brother really died. He's reading Farewell, My Lovely on the train to Newcastle, and it's a nice touch. He pursues the truth like Philip Marlowe, wandering through the milieu, tugging at loose threads where he finds them, talking and toughing his way out of it when necessary. (If you've never read any of Chandler's fiction, do yourself a favor and hie thee to the library ASAP. Read one or two early novels (say, The Big Sleep and Farewell, My Lovely) to familiarize yourself with Chandler and Marlowe, then grab The Long Goodbye, which is a stone-cold, genre-transcending masterpiece.)

But of course, Jack Carter's no Philip Marlowe. He's a nasty bit of business, and that's the other charm of this film. He's a gangster, and we're never allowed to forget it. We may be pulling for him, because it seems he's got a little bit of kindness in him, and the others around him seem generally worse, but his rough edges are always in evidence. He's not all that careful about those around him, he enjoys women but is perfectly content to use them along the way. He's pretty smart, or maybe canny is a better word. He knows how this world works, and that makes him able to circle in towards the truth. These days when star actors play bad people, it's often Oscar bait (Denzel in Training Day) or as a chance to embody some Important Idea being expressed by the movie. I can enjoy either of those things, but here Michael Caine's just embodying a character, and it's refreshing.

Also refreshing is the gritty style of the film, the lovingly presented bleakness and grime of Newcastle, reminding us of the bleak, grimy soul of our protagonist, and indeed nearly every other soul in the film.

No, they don't often make films like this one anymore. More's the shame.
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Note 1: I've heard the 2000 remake starring Sylvester Stallone is awful. Beware.

Note 2: Mike Hodges also directed Clive Owen in 1998's Croupier. I haven't seen it since then, but I remember it being good, and similarly unsentimental for the most part. Perhaps it is time for another viewing.