Out of Frame: Harry Brown
There was a time when Michael Caine was one of the toughest tough guys in the movies. From Harry Palmer to Jack Carter, Caine was charismatic, efficient, and — particularly as Carter — ruthless. Now 77, the actor has, for many years, been playing the sort of roles actors past the retirement age usually play, most often supporting turns as sage counsels or father figures. But in the vigilante saga of Harry Brown, he shows there's still plenty of badass left in those old bones.
Neither Caine's age nor the subject matter is new territory. Clint Eastwood revived an elderly version of his Dirty Harry persona in Gran Torino, and there's been a resurgence in 1970s B-movie-style revenge flicks in recent years, with A-listers including Liam Neeson, Jodie Foster, and Kevin Bacon all taking violent stabs at the genre. Gary Young's script for Harry Brown is a fairly unremarkable boilerplate addition to this tradition — but so is every one of these films, going back to Charles Bronson in Death Wishes one through five. Their enjoyability has little to do with originality or surprising twists. There's a formula to be followed, and success or failure is mostly determined by the level of viewer bloodlust the filmmakers can tap into, appealing to an audience's sense of shock at horrific injustices. Having poked and prodded the viewer into a righteous rage, the filmmakers then allow us to live out our collective revenge fantasies through an avenging angel who is deeply scarred, yet unafraid to unleash every act of violent comeuppance polite society forbids us.
In Harry Brown, Young — along with Caine and first-time feature director Daniel Barber — do just that. Brown is an aging pensioner and former Marine, recently widowed, with but one friend left in the world — drinking buddy and chess partner Leonard (David Bradley, taking a break from caretaker duties at Hogwarts). Sad and sympathetic central figure established, they then build the fury, as Leonard and Harry watch the Britain they knew seemingly crumble around them, all from their corner of the pub, and the windows of their shabby apartments in the "estate" (the U.K.'s public housing projects).
Young thugs do drug deals in plain sight in the pub. Roving gangs of wayward youths accost passersby for fun. Dress these kids up in white and throw a black bowler on them, and they'd be the droogs of Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange. As the only person left in the world who Harry can relate to, you can probably see what fate has in store for poor Leonard; he's the catalyst needed to set the sad-eyed, emphysemic Harry — and you, the sympathetic, justice-thirsty viewer — into a rage of vigilantism.
There are signs that Young and Barber want this film to be something more. A commentary on the ineffectiveness and pointlessness of authorities in trying to control the downward spiral, perhaps? Emily Mortimer's sensitive cop, investigating the uptick in dead bodies at the estate, wants to understand what's going on, not just crack down violently. All she gets for her empathy and for nearly standing in the way of Brown is to become a target herself. Meanwhile, the cops who do bring down the hammer do so just for show, and do nothing but trigger more violence.
There's also an attempt at commentary on the state of the British underclasses. But the bad guys here are so over-the-top, bordering on cartoonish in their evil and depravity, that it's difficult to see them as anything but a carefully constructed trigger for our hatred. If you want gritty social realism, there's an entire genre of British cinema devoted to that purpose that manages it far more effectively; one need only go back to earlier this year, for Andrea Arnold's fantastic Fish Tank for less manipulative social commentary.
For all its attempts at relevance, Harry Brown is nothing more or less than garden variety exploitation. That's not necessarily a criticism: Liam Neeson's similarly arced Taken is a blast of a movie, despite being kind of awful at the same time. Brown is a more meditative take on the same idea, but its attraction lies in the same guilty pleasure centers of the brain that exult in a kind of movie violence that is the very opposite of senseless. Indeed, every trigger pull and knife thrust by our hero has righteous purpose that appeals to the lesser angels of our nature. It doesn't hurt that Caine, even now, is so effective at being both charming and sad, while at the same time doling out unspeakable violence.
Barber directs with a sure hand, milking all the beauty he can out of this dirt and darkness, and creating a collection of memorable images: Harry emerging, gun blazing, from the black end of a tunnel, or confidently striding through a marijuana nursery he's just set ablaze. These dramatic visual frames for Harry underline the fact that this film is mostly a playground for Caine to revisit highlights from his career. And, in fitting fashion for an actor who often stood out in movies that were far beneath his talents, Harry Brown is never as good as its star. Yet just by showing up, Caine turns an otherwise tired exercise into something well worth watching.
---
Harry Brown
Directed by Daniel Barber
Written by Gary Young
Starring Michael Caine and Emily Mortimer

Running time: 103 minutes
Rated R for strong violence and language throughout, drug use and sexual content.
Opens today at E Street, Bethesda Row, and Shirlington.
View the trailer.