There is nothing quite like a traditional British gangster film – the blend of violence, humour and social commentary often led to truly entertaining works that may stretch the boundaries of plausibility, but were always compelling and engaging in a way that very few other genres could ever achieve, especially those that tried to replicate the same success, but without even an iota of the complexity or nuance with which these stories were executed. One of the most solid examples of just how profound an impact such a film can make comes in the form of The Long Good Friday, in which director John Mackenzie works alongside screenwriter Barrie Keeffe to tell the story of Harold Shand, a gangster who has decided to leave his criminal activities in the past and instead pursue a new life as a legitimate businessman, only to find himself becoming increasingly embroiled in a conspiracy that involves a feud between the London gangsters that Harold represents (albeit unintentionally), and the Irish Republican Army, who are working to destroy anyone who dares challenge them or their place in society, often with violent results. This is a film built on the concept of confrontation, handcrafted by a reliable journeyman director who made several well-received films, although none of them was quite as respected at the time as they perhaps ought to have been, but have mercifully been re-evaluated in the subsequent years – and in many ways, The Long Good Friday represents the nuances that should exist in every crime film, being focused on both the small, intimate details and the broader genre-based aspects that make these films so fascinating and reliable in equal measure. Perhaps not the definitive text in terms of the genre, but rather a solid entry that carries an abundance of brilliant ideas, the film is a remarkable piece of filmmaking that delivers absolutely everything it promises, and perhaps even more than we initially may expect.

The appeal of The Long Good Friday comes in the fact that this is a very traditional film, one that doesn’t need to rely on high-concept storytelling or the most original narrative to be successful, but rather that it is perfectly appropriate to follow a formula, which has been proven to work. These films are effective when they are at their most conventional, since they were essentially born out of the kitchen sink realism movement, which aimed to reflect the everyday lives of ordinary people, who are here rendered as quite simple individuals without too much complexity, outside of being embroiled in the world of crime, which is often shown to be not nearly as exciting and glamorous in reality as it is portrayed in some of the more sensationalistic works. Mackenzie made a very simple film, but one that follows conventions in a meaningful way – there is nothing inherently bad about using these ideas to craft a film, especially if the story itself is meaningful, which is certainly the case with The Long Good Friday, which doesn’t need to be overly extravagant or unnecessarily convoluted to make an impact. Instead, it chooses to take on a straightforward story about a crime boss looking to step away from his nefarious career and take on a more fruitful career in which he isn’t constantly avoiding the authorities, only to find that his own past is haunting him, and the factor that will likely cause his total downfall, realising that one can run away from people, but actions remain indelible, bound to chase after anyone who has failed to pay the consequences for choosing to lead a life driven by excess, hedonism and greed, which is where the film begins, but certainly not the terminal point.

There is a deeper meaning behind The Long Good Friday that is not easy to notice until midway through. When the film starts, we initially believe this to be a relatively simple, formulaic crime film, and the jazz-infused score, gritty aesthetic and distinctly working-class Cockney accents delivered by vaguely sinister individuals in hushed tones as they navigate through the shadows all point towards this being rather conventional. However, there comes a point where the dynamic shifts – no longer is this film about a gangster trying to go legitimate for the sake of his own safety, but rather trying to soothe the wounds of a guilty conscience, which has not only forced him to constantly peer over his shoulder, but also to fear the more metaphysical consequences that will likely be awaiting him. It is certainly not a surprise that this film takes place on Good Friday, one of the most sacred days in Christianity (and one that signals both the end of Lent and the beginning of Easter, thus making it a mournful day, and one of immense transition), and that one of the first major moments of violence we see in this film is committed outside a church. There is a complexity that drives this film, but which is kept quite subtle, for reasons that are not at all difficult to discern when we consider how much work needed to go into the film’s construction. There is a psychological nuance to this film, which views its main characters as figureheads of a certain lifestyle, rather than simply individuals in a singular story, and it uses them to explore the challenges that come to those who choose to follow a life of crime, and the perils that they usually encounter. It also takes the opportunity to ruminate on society as a whole, with commentary on poverty (and the main character’s aim to help bridge the gap between the classes as part of his renewed efforts to be an upstanding member of society), all of which prove to be particularly interesting moments in which the film is offering something valuable in terms of deeper conversations, which do not go to waste throughout this story.

Considering the depth of the film, it makes sense that The Long Good Friday would cast actors who could fit these roles well, being able to capture the gritty spirit of the text, while also playing into the slightly deeper social message. Bob Hoskins was never anything but extraordinarily reliable, and from the first moment he appears on screen, he immediately has our undivided attention. Few actors were as purely magnetic as he was, and much like James Cagney, it was Hoskins’ non-traditional appearance but distinct acting style that made him such a fascinating performer, especially in this very specific era of crime films, where they could both play the most despicable, morally ambiguous characters but yet be so effortlessly compelling that we can disregard their malicious actions in favour of their sheer charisma. Hoskins was extremely gifted, and while it may not be his finest performance (which would likely be a few years later in the similarly bleak Mona Lisa), his work in The Long Good Friday is certainly strong enough to propel the entire production. He is joined by Helen Mirren, playing a character that could have been an inconsequential mob moll, but who turns out not only to be the beating heart of the film, but the most logical and intelligent person we encounter in this story, the sole voice of reason that occupies a film driven by overt machismo and the myopia of sexism that usually accompanies it. Mirren, who was still on the rise at the time in which the film was made, is just as terrific in this role as she would be in later films, where she was given much more to do – and this alone helps account for the very strong standard set by this film, with Hoskins and Mirren doing impeccable work, much more than nearly anyone else may have been able to do with this challenging material.

The Long Good Friday is not a film that is immediately captivating, and it takes some time to fully capture our attention (there are a few moments in the first portion that pique our interest, but not enough for us to fully commit to the narrative), which is relatively par for the course when it comes to a film of this nature, since it will never be appealing to a universal audience. However, rather than being defined by its genre, the film goes in search of smaller peculiarities, allowing these to fester and develop into broader conversations, many of which feel defining of this film. It has a lot of charm and an abundance of wit, but also a sense of complexity that is frequently quite challenging in a way that comes across as intentional in its attempt to subvert and redefine certain subjects, sparking a trend within crime dramas that still exists today. A thrilling, compelling crime drama that contains a simple story and a sense of strong direction, as well as some very impressive performances, it is difficult not to have complete appreciation for this film and everything that it represents, both narratively and creatively. The Long Good Friday is an admirable blend of crime thriller and socially conscious drama, the two existing in tandem as the film voyages beyond conventions in its perpetual search for deeper meaning, some of which may never be entirely found, but instead come through in some of the more unexpected moments, keeping the film and its audience in complete suspense, which is where some of the most remarkable work is done, and the most effective reaction formed.