Harry Brown

There seems to be a genuine fear of British youth at the moment. Last year we had children torturing holiday makers in tense horror “Eden Lake” and this year we have “Harry Brown”, a gritty thriller starring Michael Caine as a pensioner turned vigilante. Now, as a twenty something living in Britain I can’t help but find this sort of thing disturbing, especially as both films refuse to show any nice, non-violent kids to level out the balance, but fear of the ASBO generation is, admittedly, understandable.

“Harry Brown” has received remarkably positive reviews thus far, due in the most part to Caine’s phenomenal performance and to the glorious opening. The first half of the film, showing the intense loneliness of the central character and the growing dread and isolation he feels as his comatose wife dies and his best friend is brutally killed by a local gang of youths. The slow pace seems to reflect an empty life, the only constant being the sound of the radio. It’s stark, bleak and upsetting, and Caine’s acting is beautifully subtle and genuinely heartbreaking.

Unfortunately this beautiful opening is then systematically destroyed by an over-the-top and largely unconvincing second segment, in which nice ex-marine pensioner Harry Brown loses control, first killing a mugger with his own knife, then buying a gun from a pair of junkies and going on a rampage. It’s an interesting idea which is sadly misused: the scene in which Harry “snaps” and kills the mugger is underplayed, and his subsequent decision to start attacking the gang just doesn’t seem plausible. It’s just too great a step for the character to turn from awkward self-defence to outright murder. A few scenes between these two events might have helped but not enough is done. Following the intense and unrelenting realism of the former section of the film, this just seems too much, far fetched and over stylised. It’s not that the latter half of the film is necessarily bad, but it sits awkwardly following the earlier scenes. It’s a little like watching two separate films haphazardly spliced together.

 Still there are plenty of redeeming features for this second half. The violence of the attacks is handled reasonably well, extreme enough to be affecting but generally shown in darkened rooms allowing the imagination to take over. The performances of the supporting cast are relatively believable, if grotesque, and Caine remains remarkable throughout. Unfortunately, however, even these positive aspects are shamed by a preposterously predictable final “twist”, very similar to the “blame the parents” motif already shown in films like “Eden Lake”, but again sloppily realised and perplexingly presented.

It’s a real shame. The opening hinted at such majesty but the final result is awkward, bizarre and unremarkable. Watchable but mediocre, sadly butchering the tone and finesse of the first section.