Gangsters with cheekbones and too many bells and whistles
DURING ITS six seasons, Peaky Blinders has rightly received a lot of attention for the brave creative decisions it uses to tell its story; solely highlighting the emotional state of tortured protagonist Tommy Shelby via the medium of Cillian Murphy’s cheekbones, symbolic imagery a toddler wouldn’t find too subtle, jarring contemporary soundtrack in a period crime drama, enough mist to create a cottage industry in fog machines, Tom Hardy as a Jewish gangster, clever use of real life…wait, go back, Tom Hardy… as a Jewish gangster?
Name dropping time, pre-fame Tom and I used to be loosely-termed friends, enough so that one time he helped me prepare for a car commercial audition. It was an unmitigated disaster because they’d wanted comedy, and I instead went in with a terrible Tom Hardy impression. I tell you this because first — drama school skinny Tom already had the recognisably intense acting style of his present persona, enough so that I wince whenever remembering how the jaws dropped on the faces of the Fiat Punto casting agents. And second — when I first heard that Tom was going to be in the second series as a Jewish gangster, I
thought he might have looked to the former Jew in his life and base Alfie Solomon on yours truly. Then I saw his portrayal, and my jaw dropped.
As far as I can tell, the only person Tom consulted on how to portray a turn-of-the 20th-century Jew, is Tom. Sure, the character’s got a scraggly beard and a shawl, but underneath it could be Bane or Mad Max. It wouldn’t necessarily matter if this was a gangster who just happened to be Jewish, but Alfie’s Jewishness is much
talked
If you’ve never seen the series before then this is a terrible place to start
about and is central to the various plots and dialogue.
Yet maybe this is no bad thing. Jews aren’t a monolith. In some shul somewhere a taciturn gruff Mad Max could be davening away. Being intimidated by Zelensky. I’m 99.9 percent sure there isn’t, but there could be! Besides, surely anything is better than yet another kvetching shoulder-shrugging hands splayed oy vey representation. In which case, count yourself lucky Tom and I were no longer friends.
Alfie didn’t pop up in this first episode of the final season, but we know he’s coming. If you’ve never seen the series before then this is a terrible place to start. It’s plot heavy, not least dealing with the ramifications of the death of excellent actor Helen McCrory, jumping forward four years to the end of prohibition in the US. The rest of the episode is business as usual. There are good set pieces, usually involving violence, and some terrible hammy scenes. Anya Taylor-Joy somehow manages to undo all the great work she did in The Queen’s Gambit. Sometimes I wish they’d drop all the bells and whistles, temper the arrogance and posturing, and just get on with it. But then I’m not sure that what’s left would be enough. In the meantime, at the very least, I get to hang out with my old pal Tom.