Get Carter

A revenge thriller usually asks us to accept a little brutality once the grievance has been established. Get Carter pushes that permission until it becomes unpleasant, and we think it is a forceful, absorbing crime film for precisely that reason. Mike Hodges follows Jack Carter, a London gangster investigating his brother’s death in Newcastle, into a criminal world where his methods scarcely distinguish him from the people he questions. The search gives the film its direction without making Carter someone we can comfortably support.

Michael Caine understands how little this man needs to advertise his capacity for harm. His composure is frightening because there is no suggestion that he needs to work himself up to anything, or seek anyone’s approval before doing it. We were unnerved by that dead-eyed calm; even when Carter is asking questions, Caine makes us watch for what he might do next. The authority of the performance keeps us interested in a man whose company would otherwise be intolerable.

Wolfgang Suschitzky’s photography gives Newcastle a working life beyond Carter’s investigation, and the film gains weight from that sense of ordinary business continuing around him. Assheton Gorton’s production design makes the criminal surroundings look used and uninviting, avoiding the temptation to turn access to the underworld into a treat. We believe people spend their days here, including people who have no choice about it. Hodges makes Carter’s violence feel like something inflicted on a place, with other lives inconveniently in the way.

John Trumper’s editing keeps the pressure on without requiring every passage to hurry, giving Caine’s watchfulness time to become oppressive. The restraint matters because constant bustle would make it easier to enjoy Carter’s efficiency without thinking about his behaviour. Roy Budd’s score is more inviting than the people on screen, and that is an effective, slightly suspect choice. It helps make Carter’s coolness attractive when his behaviour ought to put us off. Hodges is not entirely innocent of enjoying his leading man’s assurance, either.

The treatment of women is the substantial reservation. Britt Ekland’s Anna and Geraldine Moffat’s Glenda belong to a film that gives male viciousness far more attention than what women think or want, and pointing to the ugliness of these men does not settle the matter. Hodges can show us a rotten attitude without giving the person on its receiving end enough room to exist. The performances cannot quite overcome the sense that the women matter chiefly because of what men want from them.

Even with that limitation, Hodges gets more out of the revenge story than the satisfaction of watching an efficient man take charge. The hard-boiled plotting asks us to follow the search closely, but Caine’s control supplies a steadier source of tension than the question of who knows what. There is dry humour in Carter’s coolness, though it offers little reassurance about him. We can enjoy the performance without needing the film to invent a kinder man underneath it.

The severity will be too much for some evenings, and the film offers little relief from its ugly view of people. That is a fair reason to leave it for another night, though not a reason to overlook how carefully Hodges controls our attention. At 112 minutes, it has enough discipline to make the discomfort count. Choose it for Caine, but do not expect to feel better for having spent the evening with Carter.