BWW Reviews: GET CARTER, The Courtyard Theatre, July 20 2011

Get Carter was once a book (by TEd Lewis) before Mike Hodges made his iconic film in 1971, catapulting Michael Caine into the pantheon of anti-establishment hipsters, a position he holds even today, when he's Sir Michael Caine and nearing 80. Jonathan Holloway's adaptation (at The Courtyard Theatre until 24 July and from 22 - 25 September) retains some of that pre-Tarantino, pre-Sopranos gangster cool, and, under James Weisz's tight direction, the small world to which Jack Carter returns as a big fish, feels very small indeed, the drama unfolding as the hoods circle each other, spiralling down and down.

With his brother dead in explained (drink-driving accident), but inexplicable (he didn't drink much and didn't take chances) circumstances, London hard man, Jack Carter, returns home to the North to re-acquaint himself with lots of the reasons why he upped-sticks to the Smoke in the first place - and those reasons are male and female. With his sharp suit and flashing money (not that it's flashing much - hiring a car is seen as indicative of his London ways), Carter stands out among the petty criminals, brothel-keepers and part-time hookers and he's very pleased that he does. As he pursues the whole story behind his brother's death, he carves (sometimes literally) a swathe through former associates and girlfriends, seeking truth and exacting vengeance on those he holds responsible.

As Carter, Nick Bartlett carries plenty of menace and never once slips into self-parody, though it must have been tempting. He is supported by a fine ensemble cast, most of whom play more than one character which, added to telephone conversations played back in audio only, can make the plot a little tricky to follow. The names evoke the times beautifully, at least as much as the clothes, the lank hair and the chain-smoking  - the women are called Audrey, Edna, Glenda, Margaret and Doreen! There's also something very pre-feminist about these strong women being manipulated and beaten by weak men, unable to break out of their lives the way Jack broke out of his and the way many women have over the last four decades. 

I recall being told that when you finish reading Brighton Rock, you feel the need to have a shower to wash the sleaze away - there's a similar feeling at the end of Get Carter, especially after its brutal denouement. It's a slice of low life with its power undiminished, 40 years on.    

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