Adapted from John King's novel, The Football Factory is a vibrant synthesis of Snatch, Trainspotting and that episode of Grange Hill where the boys organised a fight with another school. The story concentrates on three members of the infamous Chelsea Headhunter's 'firm', who use their team's matches as an excuse to brawl with rival pseudo-supporters; narrator and stereotypical twenty-something lad Tommy, dimwitted hardman Billy and repugnant rat-boy Zebedee (so-called because he likes 'white powder').
Although Tommy enjoys the adrenaline-rush of fighting, he is plagued by visions of a serious beating and starts to question whether the lifestyle is 'worth it'. Along with friend Rod, he has inadvertently upset several Millwall fans, just when the FC Cup has pitched their two teams, and thus firms, against each other.
All the staples of British cinema are evident; the insightful voice-over, pumping Britpop soundtrack and defiance of social-conformity (jobs and girlfriends are for losers, etc). Token comedy interludes are provided by two drug-addicted pensioners and a hilariously blinkered, Hoxton-like portrayal of Liverpool (apparently just a deserted wasteland, consisting of five scallies and a burned-out car).
The hooligans are portrayed as surprisingly intelligent, misunderstood people, embodying the brave, noble spirit of St. George and disillusioned by a dystopia society that doesn't understand them; which may be somewhat difficult to accept if you've ever spent a train-journey desperately trying to avoid eye-contact with drunken 'casuals'. Otherwise the film is gleeful exploitation and extends two-fingers to any expected moral allegories.
Director Nick Love's stylish cinematography and the young cast's accurate, energetic performances are sufficient to transcend the dated subject-matter. The Football Factory is an undemanding 90-minutes that blows the cobwebs away.
Although Tommy enjoys the adrenaline-rush of fighting, he is plagued by visions of a serious beating and starts to question whether the lifestyle is 'worth it'. Along with friend Rod, he has inadvertently upset several Millwall fans, just when the FC Cup has pitched their two teams, and thus firms, against each other.
All the staples of British cinema are evident; the insightful voice-over, pumping Britpop soundtrack and defiance of social-conformity (jobs and girlfriends are for losers, etc). Token comedy interludes are provided by two drug-addicted pensioners and a hilariously blinkered, Hoxton-like portrayal of Liverpool (apparently just a deserted wasteland, consisting of five scallies and a burned-out car).
The hooligans are portrayed as surprisingly intelligent, misunderstood people, embodying the brave, noble spirit of St. George and disillusioned by a dystopia society that doesn't understand them; which may be somewhat difficult to accept if you've ever spent a train-journey desperately trying to avoid eye-contact with drunken 'casuals'. Otherwise the film is gleeful exploitation and extends two-fingers to any expected moral allegories.
Director Nick Love's stylish cinematography and the young cast's accurate, energetic performances are sufficient to transcend the dated subject-matter. The Football Factory is an undemanding 90-minutes that blows the cobwebs away.