Viking Night: Get Carter
By Bruce Hall
January 21, 2015
BoxOfficeProphets.com
I’d like to think that if I had a death in the family, my friends would be a little more sympathetic, and not respond with statements that sound like part insensitive joke, part ominous warning. Jack isn’t so lucky, so before there’s time to say “I wonder why everyone wants me to just accept my brother’s death and walk away without asking any questions?” he’s on a train to Newcastle. He uses the time to snort drugs, catch up on his reading and glumly thumb through a litany of suspicions.
Speaking of suspicions, it’s hard to believe there was no Twitter in 1971 because the moment Jack steps off the train, everyone in town seems to know who he is and why he’s there. Newcastle (at least in the film) is a cesspool of industrial blight, and Jack, despite having been away for many years, is as tainted as its inhabitants. Most everyone is of working-class stock, and those who drop by Frank’s funeral to pay their respects share with the Carter boys a fraternal bond of blue collar hardship, undiminished by years and distance. But Jack isn’t here to reminisce, he’s here to find the person who killed his brother and then murder the hell out of them.
But the funny thing is, everyone he questions seems to know something he doesn’t, but nobody wants to say anything. The cause of death was drunk driving, and Frank was pulled from the car stinking of whiskey - a drink he never enjoyed. His daughter Doreen (Petra Markham) seems haunted by something she either can’t, or won’t share. His skeevy on and off girlfriend Margaret (Dorothy White) can barely be bothered to mourn, but is obviously holding something back. And as Jack makes the rounds of his old acquaintances, he is re-introduced to the high profile side of the Newcastle underground. It doesn’t take long to confirm what he already suspects - gangsters die all the time, but it’s almost never an accident.
Get Carter may sound like a Guy Ritchie revenge fantasy before there were Guy Ritchie revenge fantasies, but you’d be mistaken. There is no tongue in cheek here, and there are no snarky, comically self-aware street hucksters around to narrate. This is neo-noir from across the Pond, set in a city full of vipers and with every character steeped in the poison. Carter himself doesn’t seem to care what he destroys or who he hurts in pursuit of the truth, and at first you want to chalk it up to love for his brother. But as the film goes on, we question how well he even knew Frank, and his rampage begins to look less like justice and more like an obligatory exercise in rage fulfillment.
The only person Carter truly appears to care for is Doreen, who’s only 16. But at one point his relationship with her is called into question, tainting even the one shred of humanity Carter seems to have. You want to root for a man who is out to get even for the death of a loved one, and you do. But watching someone tear down everything in their path to avenge a relationship they never seem to have cultivated is a curious thing. It’s like watching a prairie dog risk its life to cross a busy road, not knowing there’s nothing on the other side but more prairie dogs. If Carter ever does get what he wants, it’s hard to see him doing anything but going back to the same brooding thug he was before - only with one more notch on his belt.
Mike Hodges (who may be more famous for directing Flash Gordon a few years later) put together an incredibly engrossing project in a short period of time, and in a few spots it shows. Several scenes feel like they went with a bad take, or couldn’t get the sound quite right, and if you take the time to look it up, you will discover that’s exactly what happened. But the film’s intimate look and conspiratorial edge are intentional - many conversations are shot over someone’s shoulder or in a way that make you feel like a fly on a wall. It feels immersive and dirty, like you’re an accessory to everything that’s happening.
Caine’s performance is somewhat muted, and it takes a little while to understand what he’s doing. Carter is not nearly as smart as he thinks he is. He wears a nice suit, pushes people around and has a dry rejoinder ready for most situations, but in reality he is a twisted wreck of barely restrained fury. Carter would prefer to beat answers out of everyone he encounters, but is reluctantly forced to conclude that the investigative arts require significantly more finesse. The film’s seemingly convoluted plot isn’t as complex as it first appears; it turns out the answers were there almost right from the first frame. But Carter hurtles through the movie like a frustrated child learning to tie his shoes, and unable to control his worst impulses.
There’s really no one to cheer for in Get Carter, other than the film itself. It’s hard to pull yourself out of quicksand, and Newcastle makes no distinctions as to who gets sucked in and who doesn’t. Everyone in this motley cast of characters is cut from the same cloth, and if you find yourself having trouble distinguishing Carter’s actions from everyone else’s that’s by design. The question isn’t whether or not justice will be served, because there really isn’t any to go around. The question is whether anyone will be left standing when it’s over. The film’s ending pulls no punches, and if it doesn’t leave you thinking long and hard about the relative value of psychotic vengeance, then you should probably move to Newcastle.
Let’s all take a moment and be glad Michael Caine went into acting instead of sticking to his roots - for his sake, and ours.