‘But before the murders, the torture, the beatings and the ecstasy… before all of that, there was football…’
I thought I knew what to expect from Rise of the Footsoldier. A low-rent Football Factory. A less refined Green Street. Young street urchin finds solace in football and goes on to become the leader of the firm. A classic tale. I must admit that in reality, I was (mostly) pleasantly surprised by it in the end, ya cunt…
Carlton Leach (Ricci Harnett) does indeed begin as a young street urchin who finds solace in football but that element of the film is dispensed with surprisingly quickly. Within 30 minutes, our protagonist has joined the firm, got a girlfriend, headed up the firm, married his girlfriend, left the firm and got divorced. It’s a wild ride. Around the hour mark of this preposterously long film, some real actors finally arrive in the shape of Billy Murray as old school gangster Mickey Steele and an underused Neil Maskell as a minor but ultimately significant member of the Essex underworld. We are also introduced to series regular Craig Fairbrass as local psycho Pat Tate – a character who I understand goes on to anchor the whole franchise. What happens next is often absurd, occasionally inspired and always entertaining. Characters come and go. Only Terry Stone and his farcical wig are ever-present. Turkish gangsters pop up with some truth serum. Tate ends up snorting cocaine surrounded by strippers in hospital. Contrary to my foolhardy expectations, this film makes Football Factory seem like The Godfather in comparison.
There is a crushing inevitability to the fact that I will no doubt end up watching all the films in the Footsoldier franchise but honestly? I’m looking forward to it. As Carlton Leach would no doubt comment ‘Bring it on, ya mug’.