Thugs and hooligans line the pubs, presenting a good time as yelling about tits and knocking back a few pints. That is a fundamental that has not quite left British culture, regardless of period, class or location. Key to that is the image of respectability hiding a tense underbelly of raw machoism and a violent range of masculinity now subverted, probably for the better. It is not the need to understand the violence of it, but to understand the need for it and the need to get out of it as soon as possible. The Firm moves in strange ways over the course of its lads, lads, lads fascination, and the inevitability of hooliganism that even now has yet to be tackled. Tribalism unites the aimless.
Jokes and crack down the pub revolve around and are resolved by the ultraviolence. That draw of adrenalin must work for someone. Alan Clarke is unflinching in the violent outbursts shown on screen. They are as guttural as they are sloppy, and it adds a realness to it when a kick is missed or a hook to the jaw is botched. Brutalism that brings about a message is the clear aim of The Firm. Oldman’s performance is astonishing. It is corruptible and haunting. Clarke yanks the chain so often it is hard to know which perspective to believe, which way is pointing toward any sense of reality or reason. The Firm is fascinating for that, it manages to bring about some of the career-best performances and clocks in at just over an hour. Lesley Manville and Oldman are on fire, their performances layered and deeply moving.
The scene that comes with Manville slapping away at the face of Oldman, that resolute stare into absolute nothing, is the revelation of addiction rather than fury. The Firm tries hard to understand football hooliganism as a great release rather than a cry for help. Perhaps it is both. Phil Davis and Charles Lawson portray some quality supporting moments too, Yeti is a demonstrable character that feels like the extreme end of a spectrum of hooliganism too far gone for salvation. At the core though, especially with Lawson’s portrayal of Trigg, is loyalty. That may not be the correct loyalty, a safe loyalty, but it is loyalty. Who they hold that loyalty for though is the issue, The Firm prescribes that well, a lust for rage and freedom from its contrast with the family life and delicately so through Oldman’s riotous performance.
Ultimately it is thuggery wrapped around a game that has been torn apart by the extremities of capitalism and tribalism. Two sides of a violent spectrum ripped from the hands of the working-class communities that enjoyed the game, not the violence. The Firm does well to explore the darker forms of football hooliganism without featuring the game itself. Beyond a few notes of West Ham and Celtic memorabilia, there is nothing of the actual beautiful game in there. It is just punters using the community as an excuse for violence, but even they are shown to have their limits, and pushed to that, Clarke finds a way into a dark subculture of violence and woeful, fascinating adrenalin.
