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![Cover of Sight & Sound October 2000.](/sightandsound/images/covers/200010.jpg)
UK 2000
Reviewed by Keith Perry
Our synopses give away the plot in full, including surprise twists.
Liverpool, the present. A criminal gang, led by Mark Clayton, raids a pub, and crime lord George Hannassey's son Billy is murdered. Mark hides out in the home of his solicitor, Stacey Bannerman, and recounts his life of crime.
Sent to prison for mistakenly assaulting a policeman, Mark gained power through the advice of an older inmate, Murray, and protected the younger, volatile Ozzi. On release, Mark could not find work, and together with Ozzi formed a gang which sold drugs and ran a protection racket. Mark eliminated local dealer McCann, but was warned off achieving higher status by George. Mark met Natasha, an independently wealthy woman, and saw her as a way out of crime. When their relationship fell apart, Mark initiated the attack on the pub.
Hannassey's henchmen execute Ozzi, seemingly unaware that it was he, not Mark, who shot Billy. Mark attempts to reach the airport, but on stopping in traffic is gunned down by Billy's younger brother.
After the likes of Essex Boys and Gangster No.1, it's oddly pleasing to find a British gangster film whose main fault is being too affable. "He was more Stringfella than Goodfella," says the film's protagonist, gang leader Mark, of a local bigwig, and this light-hearted aside neatly sums up Going Off Big Time itself. There is no insight into crime here; no gun fetishism; no homoerotic swank. Anecdotal comedy is the strongest facet of the script by Neil Fitzmaurice (who also plays Mark), the prize moment being a flashback from hardman Murray (whom Mark meets while in jail) to when he was held hostage by cowards. Too scared of reprisals to touch him, his captors end up letting him win at cards while ordering him a takeaway. "It was like being kidnapped by the fuckin' Samaritans," Murray reminisces.
The opening act is overly familiar, comprising a gang raid on a pub and a murder in the heat of the moment - which leads Mark to hide out in the flat of Stacey, his solicitor, while the net closes. But then Mark begins to tell Stacey about how his life of crime began, and within the first flashback something surprising occurs. Rather than a youth ogling the displays of unlawful wealth, what we see is a gormless, muss-haired Mark being ditched by his girlfriend - an event which led him to help the police and ironically sealed his criminal fate. The same predicament leads to the disastrous raid on the pub; dumped by Natasha - his one chance for salvation - Mark vents his spleen on the local drug lord's eldest son.
Using Stacey, a lawyer who specialises in defending criminals, as the foil to Mark's self-pitying rags-to-riches story shows dramatic guile. But she proves to be merely sanctimonious, simply because when it comes to Mark, debut director Jim Doyle wants to hate the crime but love the criminal. Fitzmaurice's queasily sensitive face - unlined even in close-up - refutes Stacey's insistence that he has no one to blame but himself, while Mark's entry into the lower ranks of the crime heap is depicted as a mix of larking and retaliatory violence. Doyle continually pushes him out to the edge of the frame, hemming him in against industrial expanses or slabs of prison wall. (Director of photography Damian Bromley uses the widescreen frame most effectively within tight spaces.)
Going Off Big Time is the latest in a string of British gangster movies, but it would be wrong to label this current rag-bag collection a cycle, since the films barely refer to each other or form a progression. This said, like the film-makers behind such films as Snatch, Doyle and Fitzmaurice allude to mainstays of US gangster movies throughout. They occasionally undermine them, but, for the most part, are unable to build anything substantial in their place. And ultimately it is this - rather than the Liverpudlian accents - which marks out Going Off Big Time as a thoroughly English modern crime move.