Every one of you reading this has warrior dead in your line. You wouldn’t be here otherwise. Every one of you has people, men and women both, who made the hard, necessary, and sometimes brutal choices of taking up arms to defend their families, their villages, their traditions. Honoring the military dead … is honoring that spirit that says “you may destroy my nation, my people, my family, you may take everything but it will not be with my help. It will not be today. It will not be now. It will not be without a very bloody price that you may not wish to pay.”
There’s a lot of talk about ‘frith’ in our communities. Well, frith is built on the blood and bone, the guts and screams and tears of your warriors. Only warriors truly understand the cost of frith. You want to honor your peace-makers? Honor first the ones who took their place on the firing line.
Today Get Carter is considered one of Britain’s greatest films, certainly its finest crime drama. 1971 audiences reacted to this gritty tragedy with shock, disgust and horror. Director Mike Hodges’ vision was unleavened by the wisecracking wit of Dirty Harry or the stylized ultraviolence of A Clockwork Orange or The Wild Bunch. Set amidst the smoldering scrap heaps and dive bars of an impoverished northern England town, Get Carter looked like it was filmed in a dirty ashtray. Protagonist Jack Carter (Michael Caine) was a vicious contract killer, no better than the whores and ruffians he dispatched with steely-eyed efficiency. Most critics and cinema-goers dismissed it as a nasty film about nasty people doing nasty things to each other. After its release it sunk into obscurity, forgotten by all but a few cinephiles. (Most notably two young directors named Quentin Tarantino and Guy Ritchie). But as Swinging London gave way to Maggie’s Millions and Free Love was replaced by the Age of AIDS, Get Carter looked less like a dog-end in a punchbowl and more like a harbinger of things to come.
While Get Carter is lauded today as a Very Important Movie, many of its fans remain entranced by its brutal violence and even more brutal characters. They see Carter as a celebration of nihilism, when in fact it is as ordered and moral as a Greek tragedy. Their confusion is understandable: the ethical system underpinning the film hearkens back not to Christianity but to pre-Christian Anglo-Saxonry and Jack Carter acts not to bring justice but to restore frith.
Outside the confines of respectable society reside those who are neither respectable nor particularly social. This is the world Jack Carter inhabits, a place where he has earned some success as a foot soldier to a London mob boss. Like many of the mercenaries slashing their way through sagas Carter has escaped both his humble beginnings and his earliest crimes. He has no reason to pry when his estranged brother dies in a drunken accident, no reason to go against the friendly advice his employer proffers like a velvet glove. No reason save that an empty whisky bottle was found in the wrecked car and his brother always hated whisky.
Yet still Carter returns home, taking the northbound train with his assassin seated behind him and Chandler’s Farewell My Lovely on his lap. He is well-acquainted with the rules of this game and knows its inevitable ending. Expiating his own sin against his family, he plumbs the depths of this new violation and methodically repays everyone involved. As he turns from the last corpse a sniper’s bullet sends him to the ground, frith restored and blood answered with blood. Like most sagas, Get Carter is a cautionary tale. When frith is lacking in the larger community — in this case the criminal underworld — the family is not safe. When the family is not safe the community is not safe. Our ancestors knew firsthand a blood feud’s terrible cost.
While kindred ties often lead to violence, they just as often prevented conflict. When you are held liable for your brother’s antics you have a powerful incentive to keep those antics in check. When slurs thrown at a random stranger might be met with a response from that stranger’s extended family you chose your words carefully. You did unto others as you would have them do unto you because you know they would return the favor. As with pietas, frith worked in a series of concentric circles. One was tied by blood to kin, by kin to community, by community to the Gods. To our contemporary eyes Jack Carter seems a godless brute. Yet in the eyes of his northern European ancestors (who were driven by shame and had to be taught guilt) Carter’s behavior would be seen as laudable: what we call murder they called right action.