Harry Brown

In Harry Brown, Michael Caine met a character seemingly suited to his age and soulful eyes. Harry's a pensioner in a London council housing block. His wife's died and his chess-playing partner is killed by the estate's gang of criminal "kids".

We meet them one by them in the local police station's interrogation room, questioned by a female inspector and her male sidekick. These scenes serve to give a handful of white Brit actors juicily repulsive roles as stereotypical London villains with attitude and drug problems. Their casting is good, but angelic soft-toned Emily Mortimer is totally miscast as the ludicrously diffident cop.

The gangsters don't know that Harry is an ex-marine who served in Northern Ireland. Big mistake, because when they rile Harry it releases his army-trained killer instinct. He may be suffering from emphysema, but he knows how to stab, shoot and stare meaningfully. Revenge will be his, and the screenplay has tried to ensure that neither Harry nor his audience care how gorily he slaughters the thugs.

The Death Wishy screenplay by Gary Young (Shooters and Spivs) loses credibility fast. From grimy reality it soon moves into black surrealism: Harry gets a guided tour of a gun dealer's marijuana farm and crack house. His live-saving and -killing duties done there, poor old panting Harry decides to dispose of a drug-dealer who craves blow jobs from a young man whom Harry will use as a lure to bait his targets. More mayhem follows, hastened by an incompetent police chief and a riot in the housing estate. Echoes of Straw Dogs and Gran Turino often moan mournfully on the soundtrack, and English racists get a rare chance to see why they might have wanted Ireland to bomb itself to oblivion.

First-time director Daniel Barber embellished the self-consciously bloodthirsty (R-rated) screenplay with under-lit cinematography, illustrating the menacing ugliness of the poorer parts of London. Harry's cleaned up the scenery at the end, and he can stride manfully, without panting, into the now uninhabited tunnel of hate. Caine cannot be proud of this bloody mess.