Stunning look at questioning one's identity and role within a football firm, further still within contemporary Britain.

Rating: 10/10 (27 March 2009)

At its very centre, the question The Football Factory revolves around is 'was it worth it?' It is a question its protagonist Tommy Johnson, played by Danny Dyer, sees written in shop windows and on the sides of buses as his life increasingly spirals out of control whilst his conscience takes over and forces him to confront what it is he's actually doing in life. It is a question that Johnson asks himself near the very end but replies to his own voice with "Of course it was!", before he witnesses an act of violence so horrifying that it eclipses anything previously shown in the film. This would've left the film on an ambiguous note as to whether Johnson will now reconsider his prior reply or whether he'll even survive the next ten seconds of his life following this incorrect confirmation that it was indeed 'worth it'. The only thing that taints this final thought is the 'what happened next' caption/image that spoils what is, essentially, a fantastic film.
The film was Nick Love's second, second only to Goodbye Charlie Bright which was a bit of a mess. Here, Love takes on substance and he takes on a relevant issue that is linked to today's British culture; that being football hooliganism. The topic may not be as common now or indeed in 2004 when it was made as it was a couple of decades ago, but it exists and The Football Factory acts as a sly reminder it does just as it is a stylish study-come-demonisation of said topic. The film does this through a variety of scenes but takes time to look at the bond between hooligans as this out of control journey takes place amidst a sea of grotty and grimy locations in and around England.
The film follows Tommy and a couple of other characters in Chelsea football club's 'firm'. But teams are immaterial here as we look at Billy Bright (Harper); Rod (Maskell) and a younger member of the firm whom it would seem has quite large aspirations in terms of climbing the ladder within the group named Zeberdee (Manookian). Around all this lies the film's anchor; the film's one sane head who becomes a more humble and a more mature individual when he suffers a tragedy himself linked to his best friend of about fifty years. His name is Bill Farrell (Sutton) and he's Tommy's grandfather. One of the more memorable scenes is the introduction of Bright himself, which draws away from both comedy and drama and just becomes plain frightening when the light hearted tone in a pub is replaced by pure menace once he challenges a younger and smaller firm member. The character and his aggressive, confrontational mindset is set up perfectly for the rest of the film. Another scene that compliments the shifting in tone is when Johnson is cornered in some public toilets to do with who he is.
The demonisation of being a football hooligan begins with a typical establishment of a night out. Tommy and Rod are looking for women and a drink and eventually they find both in a couple of loose girls with whom they venture back the one of their homes with. The following scenes offer light relief or comedy when it appears both males fell asleep but very quickly it turns into danger when Tommy wakes up with a knife to his throat and a fuming brother of one of the girls snarling at him. He escapes and, in his own words, "that's when all the trouble started". What began as a routine and potentially silly 'pick up and easy lay' scenario quickly turns into light comedy and then life threatening before you realise the demonisation of the scenario has been completed when Tommy turns up to work disillusioned, still shaken and slightly frightened. The whole thing suddenly does not look as glamorous.
Twinned with this is Johnson's gradual decline into honesty about what he's doing thanks to nightmares and visions, something that branches out into a realm of the uncanny in this refreshing and multi-genre approach that has already been established will zip in and out of comedy, drama and horror. The key scene in moving the film into the third act occurs at a flower stand when someone who has escaped 'the life' tells Johnson to do the same thing with Bright himself being identified as a figure you don't want to end up as; as a figure of such hatred and violence and dedication to these two things that being with him will only incur further punishment.
What's interesting about both character's demise into this mindset is how each one deals with the questioning of their own dedication. When Johnson asks himself if it's worth it, he begins to move away and questions his involvement. When Bright's dedication is questioned by the higher-ups after some eavesdropping, Bright chooses the wrong option and ups the stakes by bringing in firearms following the knocking of his ego. Such a scene demonstrates the correct and incorrect choices when this way of life pushes you into a corner and forces you to make a decision based on what involvement you truly, truly want in a hooligan firm. The Football Factory is stylish but doesn't glamorise; it is gritty and involving but you never really have 'fun' watching it. What you do feel, however, is thoroughly intrigued by the plight of this lone individual as he falls by the way-side and questions his own masculine identity amidst a sea of egos and violence.