Based on a novel (of the same name) by the late, great William McIlvanney, directed by David Leland (he of Wish You Were here and TV's Made in Britain and Birth of a Nation fame), with a score by Ennio Morricone and a stunning cast, including (in approximate merit order) Ian Bannen, Maurice Roeves, Billy Connolly, Liam Neeson, Joanne Whalley-Kilmer, Peter Mullan ('young' and underused), Julie Graham, Hugh Grant and, in cameo roles, Douglas Henshall and Jack Shepherd, plus many great supporting character actors, Leland's 1990 film had 'classic' written all over it. Why then does it 'score' so moderately, critically? A recent rewatching (the first time since the film's release) had me concluding that the lukewarm reception is still somewhat inexplicable. OK, the premise of Neeson's (post-1980s strike) ex-miner and Scot, Danny Scoular, looking 'to make good', escape his (now) jobless, emasculating existence and provide for his wife (Whalley-Kilmer's Beth) and family by taking up the lucrative offer by Bannen's Mr Big, Matt Mason, of a bare knuckle fight, is not exactly an original idea, but Leland's uncompromising direction, Don MacPherson's sharp script and the level of acting talent on show make for a never less than intriguing watch.
As is invariably the case with the man, Connolly's presence on screen (big or little) tends towards a nailed-on positive and here, as Mason's wisecracking 'fixer', Frankie, the Big Yin is again given most of the best lines, some of which are delivered (in a highlight scene) to Danny's pet dog! Certainly, of course, (authentic) accents are not a problem for Connolly nor for each of ('natives') Bannen or Roeves (the latter as Mason's gang rival and counter-better, Cam Colvin). Whalley-Kilmer struggles the most in this respect, whilst Grant's 'posh Edinburgh' brogue as Beth's stand-in lover, Gordon, is rather assured. Thematically, as well as Danny's need to provide, Leland gives us a reasonably engaging political and community backdrop, Danny quipping that he has 'not a criminal record, a political record' whilst his local neighbourhood gather to give him a send-off against the backdrop of a disused coal mine. In terms of visual invention, Leland gives us an uncompromising, extended fight sequence (to Morricone's memorable staccato accompaniment), plus some unexpected (and repeated) cutting to a (Sexy Beast-like - could Jonathan Glazer have taken inspiration from Leland here?) Spanish, lilo sun-bathing portly ex-gangster (whose relevance latterly becomes apparent).
Given McIlvanney's outstanding (poetic and descriptive) qualities as a writer, Leland's film could, I guess, be criticised (as for many literary screen adaptations) for not quite capturing the magic of the author's prose and imagination. As a comparator, given the film's take on family angst set against a political backdrop, the most obvious comparator would be Mark Herman's 1996 film, Brassed Off. Leland's film may not quite match that, but it runs it mighty close.
As is invariably the case with the man, Connolly's presence on screen (big or little) tends towards a nailed-on positive and here, as Mason's wisecracking 'fixer', Frankie, the Big Yin is again given most of the best lines, some of which are delivered (in a highlight scene) to Danny's pet dog! Certainly, of course, (authentic) accents are not a problem for Connolly nor for each of ('natives') Bannen or Roeves (the latter as Mason's gang rival and counter-better, Cam Colvin). Whalley-Kilmer struggles the most in this respect, whilst Grant's 'posh Edinburgh' brogue as Beth's stand-in lover, Gordon, is rather assured. Thematically, as well as Danny's need to provide, Leland gives us a reasonably engaging political and community backdrop, Danny quipping that he has 'not a criminal record, a political record' whilst his local neighbourhood gather to give him a send-off against the backdrop of a disused coal mine. In terms of visual invention, Leland gives us an uncompromising, extended fight sequence (to Morricone's memorable staccato accompaniment), plus some unexpected (and repeated) cutting to a (Sexy Beast-like - could Jonathan Glazer have taken inspiration from Leland here?) Spanish, lilo sun-bathing portly ex-gangster (whose relevance latterly becomes apparent).
Given McIlvanney's outstanding (poetic and descriptive) qualities as a writer, Leland's film could, I guess, be criticised (as for many literary screen adaptations) for not quite capturing the magic of the author's prose and imagination. As a comparator, given the film's take on family angst set against a political backdrop, the most obvious comparator would be Mark Herman's 1996 film, Brassed Off. Leland's film may not quite match that, but it runs it mighty close.