Concrete Jungle

The Cleo Laine track, the odd behaviour of Scout dancing about, tha arty jazzy track, Jill Bennett's stage hysterics, the West Indian singing calypso (fashionable at the time) to a guitar in prison(!?) , the party, all create an air of unrealistic artiness. The criminals are half baked - just remember when this was made the Krays were roaming London creating mayhem. Losey could have studied them and then really scared us.

Stanley Baker is better known for films like Spartacus and Zulu, but this is really his zenith as a film performer. This gritty, underrated crime drama can hold its own with any film noir piece made in Hollywood. A British production, where the convicts actually wear suits and ties in prison (really) in 1960, have an array of activities, such as darts (couldn't they use those for weapons?), TV, musical instruments, weekly church services, and three square meals a day. This is in addition to the exercise yard. What are these guys complaining about? I could with a week of that myself during this COVID crisis. This film is as raw as it gets; with no silver linings or half-measures. A real gem in the rough.

As other reviewers have noted, this film does contain a mish-mash of themes (being both prison drama and crime thriller) and moments of self-consciously arty direction (the punishment beating of a prisoner in jumpy close-ups, an extreme close-up monologue against a darkened background, and tricksy shot compositions). It is still an interesting study of a man and a system. At first, Johnny Bannion seems to be top dog among the prisoners. He can withdraw a beating or arrange one, and has hangers-on at his beck and call. When he gets out he has already planned the mythical 'big score' that will put him in Easy Street for a good, long while. Unfortunately, the criminal system is as skewed as the capitalist one when it comes to exploitation. Mr Bigs have to be fixed - and double the rate they charge for their trouble (you have to deal with them or you can't do business at all). They are ruthless, kidnapping and threatening women to get their way. Eventually they will take everything you have, including your life, to get what they want. And don't expect any justice or comeback from the authorities. They are in on the game, too, and play their own part in keeping things jogging along as long as there isn't too much rough stuff (even the liberal New Statesman-reading prison governor seems wearily aware there can be no rehabilitation or true justice in the world). By the end of the film Bannion has been bought and sold half-a-dozen times by those he felt he could trust. There is no room for his kind any more, corporate criminality has taken over. We are left with too many loose ends to make a wholly satisfying story. Does Pauly Larkin pull through? Why was Maggie dumped? There are also tantalising hints at a more sensitive side to Bannion (love of music with the piano and record covers in his apartment, the stifled crossing of himself when he hears of a death) which are never explored. This is a tough film and very worth watching. It just leaves too many unanswered questions.

Joseph Losey's film has acquired something of a reputation since it's release way back when, though it's hard to see why. Stanley Baker playing the eponymous villain is convincing enough but the script and characterisations are weak. This is particularly evident in the prison scenes which comprise most of the film. The incarcerated are stock characters so beloved of British films of this period and they perform true to type (ie terribly). The exception is one of Beckett's favourite actors Patrick Magee, his sinister prison guard is a real stand-out. Aside from his performance the other outstanding feature is the photography from Robert Krasker which, ironically, suggests what a great film this could have been.

A strange film. On the one hand it is a realistically drawn Melvillean study of criminals who fall out and destroy one another; on the other it is a non-naturalistic Behanesque portrayal of prison life, its hierarchies and the relationships among and between warders and prisoners. At a guess, the crime story dominated in the original script and Alun Owen emphasised the prison scenes and introduced the element of ensemble work in the later version. The problem with this mixture of films, either of which could be good on its own, is that they don't fit together- that's leaving aside the film's Dickensian relish for characters, regardless of their relevance to the story. Thus the comic Northerner who wants to hire the gang's getaway taxi after the robbery, the piano-tuner in Bannion's flat (what does Bannion want a piano for anyway?- it's isn't consistent with his character.) when they are talking plans for the robbery, many of the prisoners- effectively portrayed as helplessly institutionalised, Magee's talismanic and enigmatic head warder, the prison doctor, the cynical prison governor- all distract from the film's plot, but aren't given enough time for their own story, which might be more interesting- the mixture of antagonism and co-operation between prison staff and prisoners- "Come on" says a screw, "I always treat you straight; you do the same for me." an effective tactic- is well-portrayed and rouses our interest without satisfying it. Equally, important parts of the crime story are thrown away- we never see the robbery and Bannion goes back to prison remarkably quickly- six weeks, we are told- we never even learn how long he will spend back in prison. The women- the abandoned moll played by Jill Bennett and her replacement- aren't convincing at all, mere plot-devices; on the other hand, the suggestion that some of the characters are homosexual is well-placed and carefully shown in passing. There are strengths too- effective and sometimes beautiful camera-work, especially in the prison scenes, all of the actors are good in their parts, a very fine score by John Dankworth. It's certainly a film worth seeing, but we can't help regretting what it could be but isn't- but then, that's true of so many British films.

Shrewd, fearsome underworld kingpin Johnny Bannion (a superbly steely and convincing performance by Stanley Baker) gets sprung from the joint so he can mastermind a bold racetrack heist for his slick, shifty hoodlum buddy Mike Carter (a splendidly smarmy Sam Wanamaker). Johnny winds up being incarcerated again after hiding the stolen loot. Can he survive long enough in jail to get back out and retrieve the money? Director Joseph Losey, working from a sharp, precise script written by Alun Owen and Jimmy Sangster, offers a fascinatingly vivid and flavorsome depiction of the seedy criminal milieu, relates the arresting story at a steady pace, and maintains a fierce, unrelenting intensity that never lets up to the literal bitter end. This film further benefits from top-notch acting by a stellar cast, with especially stand-out turns from Baker, Wanamaker, Gregoire Aslan as cunning Italian mop capo Frank Saffron, Margit Saad as Johnny's brash, enticing new girlfriend Suzanne, Jill Bennett as neurotic spurned moll Maggie, Patrick Magee as rugged, no-nonsense prison guard captain Barrows, Laurence Naismith as meddlesome detective Mr. Town, and Kenneth J. Warren as the brutish Clobber. Robert Krasker's crisp, fluid black and white cinematography, the colorful characters, John Dankworth's rousing jazzy score, the uncompromisingly grim'n'gritty tone, the haunting bluesy theme song that's gorgeously sung by Cleo Laine, a potent central message about how greed and money lust destroy the human soul, and the powerful downbeat ending add immensely to the considerable jolting impact of this bang-up little winner.

After buying an 8 disc box set of Losey's films, because I wanted to watch Mr Klein, having heard good things about it, I've now watched another 4 of the discs. Mr Klein was interesting, and actually quite good, but as for the rest, frankly, I'm so far unimpressed. To put one's finger on what's wrong with them, they are, firstly, extremely poorly cut and paced. After about twenty minutes one simply ceases to care about the characters, and only dogged determination can see one through to the end. I failed to make it more than once, and after fast-forwarding discovered in any case that the trip would not have been worth it. Secondly, they are irritatingly self-regarding and self-conscious. One gets the constant impression that Losey is permanently saying: Look at me, and what I'm doing. I'm a serious, committed, self-confessed Communist and Stalinist (he actually maintained this attitude for a time), and all you precious intellectuals out there owe it to yourselves to admire and respect me. Sorry, Joe, I'm just not with you on that one. Moreover, although this turgid film includes what amounts to a near-comprehensive roll-call of English character actors, I simply do not respond to the thespian qualities of Losey's frequently employed leads, such as Baker and Bogarde. Baker may have a slight edge over Bogarde, but I wouldn't want to meet either of them. In the end these films are not entertaining, and their messages are painfully dated. If they ever conveyed anything constructive at all, it was only for a short period, post-war and pre-rock n' roll: 1945-1955. True art is gripping and timeless. Two out of ten stars. What has gone wrong with the star system?

The blacklisted Joseph Losey whose loss to the American cinema was the United Kingdom's gain took his knowledge of American prison films to fashion this gem. Starring in Concrete Jungle is the premier British tough guy Stanley Baker in a role that in America, Humphrey Bogart might have been given first crack at. Whoever said there was no honor among thieves must have run with Baker's mob. When we meet him, he's a day away from his release from one jail sentence, but not until some prison justice is meted out to a newly arriving Patrick Magee with whom Baker has a grudge over a previous job. No sooner is Baker out than he's back in a nice caper concerning the robbery of a racetrack. But thieves being what they are somebody rats and Baker's back in stir. But not before he's buried the loot and doesn't tell anyone, the same thing he was mad at Magee for. It's a scurvy lot Baker has for friends, I haven't seen this many bad people hold a viewer's interest without there being any redeeming good people in a film since I first saw Goodfellas. But like Goodfellas there is something fascinating about Baker and the whole crew, people like Sam Wanamaker, Gregoire Aslan, etc. Even the cops like Laurence Naismith aren't especially heroic. Naismith admits as much, he's just got a well developed system of stool pigeons which any cop worth his badge has. Baker really dominates the film, the United Kingdom hasn't produced an actor like him since. Concrete Jungle is a classic example of his tough guy appeal and a great introduction to him. And you'll love Cleo Laine's singing of A Thieving Boy at the beginning and end of the film.

A haunting and unique depiction of prison and criminal life in Britain in the early 1960s. 40 years after its release I still wish to see this film. Before the Great Train Robbery and the prison riots of more recent times the violence and tension portrayed in the work seem to strike a very deep chord which anticipates these later events.

The Criminal (AKA: The Concrete Jungle) is directed by Joseph Losey and written by Alun Owen. It stars Stanley Baker, Sam Wanamaker, Margrit Saad, Patrick Magee, Grégoire Aslan, Rupert Davies and Laurence Naismith. Music is by John Dankworth and cinematography by Robert Krasker. Johnny Bannion (Baker) is an ex-con who's taken part in the robbery of a racetrack but is caught and sent back to prison; but not before he has time to bury the cash from the gig. Back in prison Johnny is keeping the cards close to his chest but finds there are big crime forces wanting a piece of his action. With plans afoot to "twist" his arm, and his girlfriend kidnapped, Johnny knows something is going to have to give... All my sadness and all my joy, comes from loving a thieving boy. Once tagged as being "The toughest picture ever made in Britain", The Criminal obviously seems tame by today's increasingly over the top standards. Yet it still packs quite a punch and shows the very best of Messrs Losey, Baker and Krasker. In some ways it's a strange film, the pace is purposely slow and the narrative is bolstered by bouts of hang wringing tension, where periods of calm come laced with a grim oppressive atmosphere, but there's often electricity bristling in the air when Bannion (Baker is magnetic and brilliant as he apparently models the character on Albert Dimes) is holding court. Even when on the outside and feeling the love of a good woman, Bannion exudes a loner like danger, he's tough but being a hard bastard can't break him free from the shackles of his life. We know it and you sense that he himself knows it, and it gives the film an exciting edge not befitting the downbeat tone of the story. Characters here have not been delivered from happy land, you will struggle to find someone here who isn't nasty of heart, bad in the head or simply foolish. Inside this concrete jungle it's a multi cultural hive of emotional disintegration, and at the core stirring the honey pot is one Johnny Bannion. The film makers here are all about pessimism, self-destruction and the battle against the system and the underworld, right up to (and including) a finale fit to grace the best noirs of the 40s. Losey and Krasker ensure the prison sequences are stifling, the walls close in, the bars and netting are unsettling and close ups of the odd ball assortment of crims and warders strike an incarcerated chord, visually it's an impressive piece of noirish film. But it's not just about shadows and filtered light, the director has skills aplenty with his camera. A kaleidoscope shot has a delightfully off kilter kink to it, while his overhead filming and pull away crane usage for the frosty cold finale is as memorable as it is skillful in selection. Musically the pic begins and ends with the soulful warbling of Cleo Laine, the tune is a Prison Ballad (Thieving Boy), and it's tonally perfect, while Dankworth and his orchestra provide jazz shards that thrust in and out of the story like knowing accomplices to fate unfolding. Set design is superb, especially for the recreation of a Victorian prison which is impressive and makes it easy to not lament an actual prison location used, while the supporting actors are very strong, particularly Magee (Zulu) who excels doing sneaky menace as Warder Barrows. Flaws? Not any if you don't actually expect the toughest film made in Britain back in the day (though it was banned in some countries!). I do wonder why Baker had to be an Irish character and not just be Welsh and therefore do his natural Welsh accent? And if we are are being over critical we could suggest there are some prison stereotypes that even by 1960 were looking frayed around the edges. But ultimately this is tough stuff, a gritty and moody piece of cinema with class on either side of the camera. 8/10