By The Playlist Staff | The Playlist March 27, 2013 at 12:34PM
While it's often something of a grey area in terms of financing or director's nationalities, we've excluded any Irish crime pictures like "The General," "I Went Down" or "In Bruges," due to it being, you know, a different country. But given that it's set north of the border, and that it's pretty much a solid-gold classic, we couldn't really fail to take a trip across the Irish Sea for Carol Reed's "Odd Man Out." Often overshadowed by the director's better known "The Third Man" which followed two years later, it stars James Mason as Johnny McQueen, the leader of an IRA-like organization in a city that's clearly Belfast, even if it's never named as such. The rest of the crew believe he's going soft, as Johnny's starting to believe that they should turn to more peaceful methods of negotiation, but when a fund-raising robbery of a mill goes wrong, a wounded Johnny, ends up on the run, with his love Kathleen (Kathleen Ryan) his only hope of safe passage away. As Johnny (played beautifully by Mason, in one of his best performances) creeps towards his inevitable doom, he encounters a succession of colorful and fascinating characters, including the poverty-stricken Shell (F.J. McCormick), who hopes to turn him in for a reward, and landlord Fencie (future Doctor Who William Hartnell). Fans of the later film should know that there's a lot in common with "The Third Man," from the atmospheric take on a city to some impressively suspenseful set pieces, but it's somehow more experimental, with Johnny carried along somewhat passively as he gradually bleeds to death. It's surpirisngly apolitical (an opening title states that the film "is not concerned with the struggle between the law and an illegal organisation, but only with the conflict in the hearts of the people when they become unexpectedly involved") but if anything, it helps the emotional punch of the ending, when Johnny and Kathleen are gunned down by the police, land a little harder. Roman Polanski considers it his favorite film, calling it "a film which made me want to pursue this career more than anything else," and while we wouldn't quite go that far, Reed fans should seek it out post haste.
For sheer, epic scope, and a kind of James Ellroy-level complexity, it's hard to beat the "Red Riding" trilogy, which originally aired on British television before running theatrically in America the following year. Based on four novels by David Peace (adapted by Terry Gilliam collaborator Tony Grisoni), each part of the trilogy is devoted to a different year with a different director and medium. The first (and arguably most enjoyable) section, "1974," was directed by Julian Jarrold, shot on 16mm and starred a then-unknown Andrew Garfield as a young reporter investigating a series of child murders. His investigation, of course, leads him into the arms of one of the mothers of the missing girls (Rebecca Hall) and has him uncovering a "Chinatown"-ish conspiracy that involves local business owners and higher-ups in the police force. The second section, "1980," directed by "Man on Wire" filmmaker James Marsh and shot in 35mm, concerns a detective (Paddy Considine), who is investigating the real-life Yorkshire Ripper killings, as well as the massacre that concluded the first section of "Red Riding." (Fact and fiction colliding!) Increasingly bleak, the second section centers around police corruption and the futility of trying to fight the good fight when so many around you are so very, very bad. The last section, "1983," shot on the digital Red One camera by Anand Tucker, tries to wrap up the entire shebang by re-contextualizing the first section and giving the entire series added scope and depth (minor characters become terribly important, the sons of other characters take center stage, etc.) Things seem a bit hurried here but it's the kind of thing that is kind of impossible to sew up so tidily (especially when a "1977" section was written and plotted before the funding fell apart). The "Red Riding" trilogy is also noteworthy, in the British crime canon, for focusing on the countryside instead of the city, where most of these criminal opuses take place. Artistic and ambitious, featuring an unimpeachable supporting cast that includes Sean Bean, Shaun Dooley, Eddie Marsan, David Morrissey, and Sean Harris, the "Red Riding" trilogy is a must for anyone seeking knotty, deep drama.
Just as Tarantino's rise saw many, many poor-quality crime pictures aping him in the next few years, the success of "Lock Stock & Two Smoking Barrels" saw the market flooded with British films hoping to cash in. Most ("Circus," "Love Honour & Obey," "Essex Boys") were terrible, but there were a couple that were worthwhile, and the best of all was "Sexy Beast." Marking the directorial debut of commercials veteran Jonathan Glazer, it didn't seem on paper to be anything particularly ground-breaking; safe-cracker Gal (Ray Winstone) is out of the joint, and happily retired in Spain, getting progressively more orange as time goes on. But suddenly Don (Ben Kingsley), an old associate appears, attempting to tempt Gal back for the archetypal one last job for their boss (Ian McShane). But the film has both a great, impossibly sweary, very funny Harold Pinter-esque script, and marries it with surreal, ever-inventive imagery from Glazer. The film does drop of a little towards the end, despite an innovative underwater heist sequence, and a lovely turn from McShane, but that's because it's lost its key ingredient: Kingsley, whose foul-mouthed terrier-like turn is a million miles away from Gandhi, and might stand as the actor's greatest achievement (earning him an Oscar nomination for his trouble, too). Much of the film is a two-hander between him and an equally-never-better Winstone, and it has the kind of fireworks that you couldn't get with a dozen action sequences. Glazer went on to even greater things with "Birth" in 2004, and later this year, his long-awaited third film, "Under The Skin," arrives. We can't wait.
"You are looking at an animal!" the poster of this 1972 violent crime thriller screams. "A woman is his target... no cage can hold his lust for revenge." Is this lurid Douglas Hickox film a little misogynistic? Oh sure, it is, but maybe that was the point of this would-be shocking thriller starring Oliver Reed as Harry Lomart, a convicted murderer who plans to break out of prison and leave the country along with his fellow jailbird Birdy Williams (Ian McShane). But before the prison break, Harry’s estranged wife (Jill St. John) comes to visit and admits to the criminal she is pregnant with another man’s child and this changes everything. Harry explodes like a hurricane of anger, breaking the glass partition between them, having to be sedated by the prison guards. Featuring a prison break sequence so tense and thrilling it could be ranked among the classics, the plan is to lay low, but Harry cannot fight the temptation to enact revenge on his wife and like Jaws or Jason Voorhees spends the rest of the picture on a juggernaut-like mission to mow her and her lover down with the extremest of extreme prejudice. Seedy and sleazy, this film routinely finds itself added to William Lustig’s “Presents” series in New York of obscure, scuzzy and violent hard-to-find exploitation pictures of the 1960s and 1970s (a must-attend at least once). Though “Sitting Target” is much easier to find now thanks to the Warner Archive, which put out the picture on DVD a few short years ago.
An early film from director Michael Apted (his third feature, and released in the same year as the third in his famous long-running documentary series, "21 Up"), "The Squeeze" was caught at an odd time for the British crime genre; a few years after "Get Carter" and a few before "The Long Good Friday." As such, it rather got lost in the shuffle, and remains rather undervalued today, and if it's not a quite a lost classic, than certainly it's relatively undiscovered, and a very solid effort. The film toplines American actor Stacy Keach (who has a pretty solid British accent here, and would have his own real-life run-in with the law in the U.K a few years later, serving six months in Reading Prison after being caught with cocaine at Heathrow Airport) as a boozy ex-cop who gets out of rehab to be told by the wealthy new husband (Edward Fox) of his ex-wife (Carol White, of "Cathy Come Home," in sadly her last role; her career collapsed due to alcoholism, and she passed away in 1991) that she and their daughter have been kidnapped. There are plenty more twists and turns to come as Keach and Fox (along with U.K. comic Freddie Starr, in a strange but effective bit of casting) team up to take down the hoodlums responsible, including "Ben Hur" star Stephen Boyd, also in his final role, and David Hemmings. Based on a novel by a former crime reporter James Tucker, there's a low-key authenticity to the film, a griminess that extends beyond the frank and punchy violence and nudity; the city itself seems to be rotten to the core. Apted has a surprising and visceral feel for the genre, to the extent that it's a touch disappointing he's not gone in this direction more often, and his cast all do excellent, and quite often against-type, work. It's perhaps a little too much of a B-movie to figure as a bona-fide classic of the genre, but it's worth a watch if you happen across it on TV late at night.
Honorable Mentions: Obviously, this is just a brief overview, a combination of the classics we couldn't do without, and a few undersung gems. And we've tried to keep it to films in the classic definition of the crime genre, excluding things like "Bronson," "Scum," "This Is England," "Kind Hearts & Coronets" and "The Offence," which have a toe in the crime movie waters, but aren't quite all the way in. But there's plenty more where the 20 above came from.
Among them, "Performance" (which has gangsters in it without ever quite being a gangster film), Mike Hodges' "Croupier" follow-up "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead," decent Jason Statham vehicle "The Bank Job," David Cronenberg's "Eastern Promises," J Blakeson's "Disappearance Of Alice Creed," Antonia Bird's underrated "Face," Michael Crichton's period piece "The First Great Train Robbery," Stephen Frears' debut "Gumshoe," biopic "The Krays," Paul Andrew Williams' "London To Brighton," and Danny Boyle's debut "Shallow Grave."
There's also a selection of films that have a good reputation, but are harder to track down these days. They include "They Drive By Night," "Dancing With Crime," "Noose," "They Made Me A Fugitive," "The Criminal,""Payroll," "The League Of Gentlemen," "Jigsaw," "Loophole," "Robbery," "Sapphire" and "Villain." And we're sure we've forgotten at least one key one -- feel free to remind us in the comments section.
-- Oliver Lyttelton, Rodrigo Perez, Drew Taylor, Diana Drumm