"I'll Sleep When I'm Dead"

Many of the parallels between "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead" and "Get Carter" are obvious, and intentionally so, particularly given that both movies feature chilly, inscrutable men out to avenge the death of a brother. But in spirit and at their core, they're very different: They inhabit the same universe, warily, but only as meticulously mismatched bookends. (Even the journeys of the protagonists are opposites of each other: Jack travels away from London, Will back to it.)

"Get Carter" is so beautifully constructed that it's practically hypnotic. Its structure and craftsmanship draw us in so deftly that we barely have time to sort out for ourselves what the appeal is: Unmoored, we may find ourselves attempting to reckon even with its nihilism as a thing of cold, glittering beauty. And Caine, as the vengeful, empty Jack Carter, gives a chillingly calibrated performance. Somehow, he turns his face into an unreadable landscape of horizontal lines -- a slim slit for a mouth; glittery, narrow eyes that give very little away. It's the kind of performance you wish you could turn away from, but can't.

"I'll Sleep When I'm Dead" has its problems: As beautifully made as it is, Hodges leaves some crucial portions of the story maddeningly unclear, particularly at the end. But "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead" (whose title Preston admits to borrowing from the Warren Zevon song) is a much warmer movie than "Get Carter." In fact, it's a good example of how a work can be warm without even a hint of softness. "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead" is an elegiac movie, but it's flinty, too. Shot by Mike Garfath (also the D.P. on the stunning-looking "Croupier"), the picture is dazzling to behold, which is not to say it's always conventionally pretty. Its daylight scenes shimmer with sunlight and grime. At night (and "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead" is essentially a nocturnal creature), we see inky shadows and sparkly, lit-up streets. In its nighttime scenes, the movie gives the sense of having been washed in the rain, as if it were suggesting that darkness, even with all its murky secrets, is more honest than the ostensibly cheerier light of day.

Owen is a warm actor even when he's playing a rigidly determined character like Will. Will has never made the essential distinction between being macho and being masculine: When he's asked if Davey might have been gay, he responds quickly that he's sure the answer is no. "I would have known," he remarks sensibly, although, of course, we know that it's likely he wouldn't have.

Even so, Owen doesn't play Will as a defensive bully. Whatever his flaws are, his love for his brother stands strong and true. Will is bound by the world he knows, even after he thinks he's left that world far behind. He can't allow himself to be soft, because it's his very hardness that keeps him alive. "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead" opens and closes with the same shot of Will standing on the shore, alone but not alone, looking out to sea -- an echo of the ending of "Get Carter." In between, we've heard Will explaining to Helen that although he's always on the run, it's not fear that drives him. "It's grief -- for a life wasted," he notes simply.

The language may be melodramatic, but the sentiment isn't. In the world of noir, grief is often a great motivating force. While everyone else is off chasing elusive, perfect joy, the noir hero is forced to find contentment, or something that passes for it, in the darkness. In "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead," Will accepts that mission humbly, almost as if he were atoning for Jack Carter's unwillingness to yield to it. They're two characters standing on opposite shores, brothers to each other and yet strangers. Thank God one filmmaker had the chance to give life to them both.

• View blog reactions