Harry, a Korean War vet, keeps his head down and goes on. Yet, somehow, these giggling villains are even more appalling than cold-blooded murderers. They are probably only tangentially aware of the young mother they mow down with their gunshots, their drug-addled consciousness buffering them from the reality of the deed. The film opens with a shaky camera recording some young thugs getting high and then taking off on their motorbikes. Harry Brown lives in the Council Flats – Britain’s bland euphemism for its housing projects – and watches helplessly the chaos around him. It is a savage world of casual brutality, where any semblance of conscience, remorse, or compassion has long been trampled underfoot. Our own local critic demands “Harry Brown – both the man and the movie – ought be kept off the streets.” These forbidden streets are in South London, where yobs – “boy” spelled backwards to indicate the antithesis of what one should be – rule.
What does it say about a society that depends on a wheezy 80-year-old to clean up its streets? Michael Caine takes us where we’d rather not go in his portrayal of a reluctant vigilante trying to catch the bad guys as well as his ragged breath.Īnd in so doing he shows us a world many are determined to deny. "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men do nothing." Edmund Burke
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