Director John McKenzie’s Brit gangster classic remains a benchmark for the (recently much-abused) genre and a high point in the careers of almost everyone who worked on it. It’s strengths are legion: from Francis Monkman’s wailing sax score, to some of the saltiest dialogue ever penned (gang boss Harold on his dead best mate being carted off in an ice cream van: "Well, there’s a lot of dignity in that — goin’ out on a Raspberry Ripple!" Harold on La Cosa Nostra: "The Mafia? I shit ’em.". But it’s the performances that finally elevate this to classic, and indeed, must-own status. Helen Mirren’s portrayal of a devoted wife trying to hold a collapsing world together is a standout; but it’s Hoskins’ towering performance as Harold Shand that gives the movie its ballistic and hubristic power. Oscillating brilliantly between the preening and arrogant, Thatcherite, self-made thug and a desperate, beaten man, Hoskins has never been better. And the final shot, a sustained take on his face as he realises the true horror of his fate, is one of the finest pieces of acting in British cinema.