We Still Kill the Old Way
Directed by: Sacha Bennett
Written by: Sacha Bennett, Dougie Brimson, Gary Lawrence
Starring: Ian Ogilvie, Christopher Ellison, Danny-Boy Hatchard
Release Date: 2019
Available on: Amazon Prime Video
Because I forgot to remove something from the Watchlist on Amazon Prime, I am under the annoying though temporary inconvenience of having to watch television late at night with one of my grandparents. We Still Kill the Old Way is a film I would normally pass by without a second thought in my searches. But my grandmother seized on it. “Ooh, Ian Ogilvie,” she cried – “he was ever so good in Return of the Saint!” So that was my film for the night.
It was, on the whole, rather good. I did recognise Ian Ogilvie at once. He was one of the leads in the 1967 horror film The Sorcerers, when he was much younger and better-looking. In We Still Kill the Old Way, he doesn’t do a lot of acting. His accent never really settles to a medium between some jolly Shakespearean well-lubricated for a television interview and East End crime lord. But he is far less wooden than Dennis MacShane in the John Wick films. Indeed, he has a genial charm, even when he is blowing people away with his sawn-off shotgun.
The film follows a group of retired gangsters who are dragged back into action when the E2 Gang, a new breed of violent, nihilistic criminals, beat one of the old men to death for trying to stop them from a gang rape. The old guard, now enjoying a more civilised life, decide to show these young thugs how things were done in their time—ruthlessly and without the indulgence of modern moralising. What follows is a mix of brutal revenge, black comedy, and some surprisingly touching moments of nostalgia.
I liked the torturing of the young thugs. Though my preferred Far Eastern films would have been more graphic, the scene with the hammer and electric drill managed to be both convincing and funny. The climax could have managed more tension. Those old men shooting away in the hospital were never in serious danger, which considerably lessened the tension. Also, the conversation with the E2 leader is unconvincing. He wouldn’t have wasted time explaining himself but would have opened fire at once. The film fumbles what could have been a more gripping finale.
As said, Ian Ogilvie is entertaining as the ageing gangster—at least he is, once you give up on trying to analyse his accent—bringing the right mix of menace and charm to the role. Christopher Ellison is also strong, delivering his lines with a gruff authority that lends credibility to the film’s old-school crime aesthetic. Danny-Boy Hatchard, as one of the younger criminals, is suitably loathsome. If rather old for the part, he shows all the horrid manners of the modern gang member—drugged-up psychopaths, regardless of colour, all jabbering in West Indian accents. He and his gang have cruelty without reason, violence without purpose, arrogance without justification. They are villains without redemption, and their fate at the hands of the older generation is satisfying, if predictable.
I didn’t much like the actress who played the Detective Inspector. Her performance was unremarkable, with a stiffness that made her lines feel more recited than acted. Something appears to have gone wrong with her facelift—her expressions barely moved, and the result was distracting. In the Far East, she would have had a much better job, and her neck wouldn’t have looked saggier than my grandmother’s. Indeed, her face would have looked less like the effects of a Botox overdose. The subplot involving her daughter also fell flat. The attempt to add emotional depth to her character felt forced, and the interactions between mother and daughter had the air of padding rather than meaningful drama.
Now, to general consideration. My understanding is that the older generation of criminals in the East End were never the Robin Hood figures their admirers claim they were. Even in this film, they are sinister as well as jovial. But there is no doubt that the inner cities are nowadays filled with a very low and trashy kind of criminal. The film captures this shift well, making no pretence that the past was a golden age but still managing to contrast the old order’s brutality with the newer generation’s chaotic stupidity.
This being said, I will comment that the British film industry is filled with people who are committed, as an occupational requirement, to the variously silly and evil opinions that led to the unlimited reproduction of the unfit. The olden days of hanging for murder and long stretches of hard labour had a more or less conscious eugenic effect. Criminals were scooped out of the gene pool before they had a chance to reproduce. The dregs were kept from laying down their sediment. Put more bluntly, there was a time when the State killed these people. Nowadays, we have to wait for them to kill each other. The result is less satisfactory; it leaves a critical mass of criminality and degeneracy more dangerous than the London Mob of the 18th-century.
There is some justice what has happened. The British film industry is filled with leftist scum. But these people also have nice houses in London, and are now the natural prey of the classes they did much to raise up. This gives a political edge to how they portray the criminal classes. They have to be shown as whiter than they generally are, but are shown as trash even so.
We Still Kill the Old Way is not a film I would have watched given a free choice. Even so, it has its moments and was a tolerable way to fill up the time before I could slope off to my bedroom and watch something more to my taste—though on a much smaller screen.
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