Get Carter (1971)

"I'm the villain in the family, remember?"

This is an odd beast, very well-directed, very violent, a very gritty portrayal of various Geordie places with mostly unconvincing accents (Mrs Llamastrangler is from them there parts), an unexpectedly complex plot to put it mildly, and playwright John Osborne as a crimelord called Cyril.

It's also a vivid record of various little things about Britain in 1971- the awful brown and yellow decor; the fact that the Sixties never happened for most working class people; how bloody awful much of the housing was; the casual, unthinking sexism.

But we see all this through the amoral eyes of Jack Carter (Caine)- gangster, killer, probable psychopath, womaniser and general complete bastard, as he investigates his brother's somewhat suspicious death, all done with such cold charisma that you don't question how this apparent Geordie born and bred seems to have entirely gone native in London, accent-wise. Through violence and intimidation rather than detective work the casual womaniser soon discovers that everything revolves around the sexual exploitation of Jack's niece, who may be his daughter, and things get very violent.

It's all very watchable- imaginatively shot, well-cast if you ignore the accents and with an admirable economy of exposition. But, my God, it's complex. And all these young people with names like Doreen...