Ever wondered what happens when football hooligans grow up? Rise of the Footsoldier (2007), directed by Julian Gilbey, answers that question with a sledgehammer to the face—literally. This unflinching British crime drama follows the true story of Carlton Leach, a West Ham United hooligan who climbed the criminal ladder from football terraces to becoming one of Britain's most feared gangsters.
Based on Leach's own autobiography and centering around the infamous 1995 Rettendon murders, the film doesn't just tell you a crime story—it grabs you by the throat and drags you through two decades of violence, drugs, and betrayal. If you think you've seen brutal British gangster films before, think again. This one hits different, and it hits hard.
Storyline & Plot
Rise of the Footsoldier spans nearly two decades (1977-1995) in the life of Carlton Leach (Ricci Harnett), charting his evolution from a violent football hooligan with West Ham's notorious Inter City Firm to one of London's most dangerous criminals. The narrative structure is both linear and cyclical, opening with the discovery of three murdered bodies in a Range Rover on a remote Essex farm, then rewinding to show how Carlton's world led to this moment.
The story is relentlessly character-driven, focusing on Carlton's relationships with fellow gangsters Pat Tate (Craig Fairbrass) and Tony Tucker (Terry Stone), whose friendship and partnership ultimately leads to their brutal demise. What makes this film unique is its unflinching portrayal of how violence begets violence—every punch thrown in a football riot leads to harder beatings as a nightclub bouncer, which escalates to torture and murder in the drug trade.
Gilbey's narrative style borrows heavily from Goodfellas, complete with freeze-frames, voice-over narration, and a timeline that shows the gradual corruption of initially sympathetic characters. But where Scorsese's film had dark humor and charm, Rise of the Footsoldier is uncompromisingly grim. There's no romanticizing here—just the cold reality of what happens when violence becomes your only solution to every problem.
The film's most controversial element is its triple ending, showing three different speculative versions of the Rettendon murders. Since the real case remains partially unsolved, Gilbey presents multiple scenarios, each more brutal than the last, forcing viewers to confront the senseless nature of the violence that defines these characters' lives.
Characters & Cast
Ricci Harnett delivers a powerhouse performance as Carlton Leach, capturing both the character's intimidating physical presence and his gradual psychological deterioration. Harnett convincingly shows Carlton's evolution from a steroid-fueled football hooligan to a calculating criminal, never losing sight of the human cost of this transformation. His portrayal is particularly effective in showing how Carlton's relationships with his family suffer as his criminal life consumes him.
Craig Fairbrass is absolutely magnetic as Pat Tate, the psychopathic drug dealer whose unpredictable nature makes him both compelling and terrifying. Fairbrass brings a manic energy to the role that makes every scene he's in feel dangerous. His chemistry with Terry Stone creates one of the most memorable criminal partnerships in British cinema—they're simultaneously funny and frightening, often within the same scene.
Terry Stone plays Tony Tucker as the more level-headed of the criminal duo, but Stone effectively shows how even the "smart" criminals in this world are ultimately doomed by their own violence. His performance gains emotional weight as Tucker realizes that their lifestyle has painted them into a corner with no way out.
Roland Manookian rounds out the trio as Craig Rolfe, bringing a nervous energy that serves as the audience's entry point into this world. His character's relative innocence makes his inevitable fate all the more tragic.
The supporting cast, including Frank Harper and various familiar faces from British crime cinema, creates a believable ecosystem of criminals, each with their own motivations and fears. What's particularly impressive is how the makeup and costume departments age these characters across two decades—you genuinely believe you're watching the same people evolve over time.
Direction & Style
Julian Gilbey's direction is audacious in its commitment to authenticity over entertainment. Shot on a relatively modest budget, the film has the gritty, documentary-like feel that makes the violence feel disturbingly real. Gilbey doesn't glamorize the criminal lifestyle—instead, he shows it as a series of increasingly desperate choices that ultimately lead nowhere good.
The director's visual style is heavily influenced by Martin Scorsese, particularly Goodfellas, but Gilbey adds his own brutal sensibility. Where Scorsese might use violence for shock or dark comedy, Gilbey presents it as the inevitable consequence of choosing this lifestyle. His camera work during fight scenes is particularly effective—close-up shots that make you feel every impact, extensive use of slow motion that highlights the choreography of violence, and sound design that makes every punch sound bone-crushing.
Gilbey's pacing is relentless, rarely giving viewers time to breathe between violent set pieces. This creates an exhausting viewing experience that mirrors how these characters live their lives—constantly on edge, always ready for the next confrontation. The film's epic scope, spanning decades and multiple criminal enterprises, shows impressive ambition for a low-budget British production.
Cinematography, Music & Technical Aspects
The cinematography by Ali Asad captures both the glamour and squalor of criminal life. The film moves from the working-class terraces of football stadiums to upscale nightclubs to seedy drug dens, each environment shot with appropriate visual language. The lighting becomes increasingly harsh and clinical as the story progresses, reflecting the moral decay of the characters.
The editing by William Gilbey (the director's brother) is particularly noteworthy during the violence scenes. The film employs extensive slow-motion photography during key moments, especially during the ecstasy scene where Carlton's drug-fueled euphoria is contrasted with his usual aggression. The sound design during fight scenes is exceptional—every punch, kick, and weapon impact has weight and consequence.
Sandy McLelland's score complements rather than overwhelms the action, using electronic and industrial elements that reflect the era's rave culture while maintaining an underlying sense of menace. The music choices, particularly during the club scenes, effectively place the story within its specific time period and cultural context.
The makeup and prosthetics work deserves special mention—the film's violence is presented with unflinching realism, showing the actual consequences of the brutality rather than sanitizing it for audience comfort.
Audience Appeal
Rise of the Footsoldier is definitely not for everyone, and the film wears this distinction like a badge of honor. If you're someone who appreciates British crime dramas that don't pull their punches—literally or figuratively—this film delivers in spades. Fans of The Long Good Friday, Sexy Beast, or the grittier elements of Guy Ritchie's work will find plenty to appreciate here.
The film particularly appeals to viewers who want their crime movies to have consequences. Unlike many gangster films that romanticize criminal life, Rise of the Footsoldier shows the real cost of choosing violence as a lifestyle. If you enjoyed the brutality of Bronson or the unflinching realism of This Is England, you'll understand what Gilbey is trying to achieve.
However, if you're squeamish about graphic violence or prefer your British crime films with more humor (like Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels), this probably isn't for you. The film's uncompromising approach to depicting violence makes it a challenging watch, even for seasoned crime movie fans.
Overall Impression
Rise of the Footsoldier succeeded in ways that surprised me. Despite its modest budget and relatively unknown cast, the film achieves an epic scope that rivals much more expensive Hollywood productions. The performances are uniformly excellent, the direction is confident and unflinching, and the technical aspects create a convincing world that feels both authentic and cinematic.
The film's greatest strength is its refusal to romanticize criminal life. These aren't charming rogues or Robin Hood figures—they're violent men whose choices lead to inevitable destruction. The triple ending, showing different versions of the Rettendon murders, drives home the senseless nature of this violence while acknowledging that some real-life crimes remain unsolved mysteries.
My main criticism is that the film's relentless brutality can become numbing. While this might be intentional—showing how violence becomes normalized in this world—it makes for an exhausting viewing experience. The film also occasionally gets bogged down in its own mythology, particularly in the middle section where certain plot threads are introduced but never fully resolved.
That said, this is a remarkable achievement for a low-budget British film. It spawned an entire franchise and proved that you don't need Hollywood budgets to create compelling crime cinema. The film's influence on subsequent British gangster films is undeniable.
Verdict / Rating
8/10
This is a must-watch if you enjoy uncompromising British crime dramas that prioritize authenticity over entertainment, powerful performances from unknown actors, and films that aren't afraid to show the real consequences of choosing violence as a lifestyle. Just prepare yourself for one of the most brutal viewing experiences in modern British cinema.
