Available on Blu-ray from Mon 10 Jul 2017

There’s a real irony at the heart of Mike Figgis’ debut feature.  His gritty Tyneside gangster flick is about the corrupting wolf of American money stalking into town wearing the fleece of regeneration.  It was originally intended as a low-budget Channel 4 production until it received American financial backing and was recast with more American actors.  It can’t be said however, that the director’s attitude is one of complete antipathy to our cousins across the pond, as the spirit of classic Hollywood noir haunts every frame.

In beleaguered Newcastle, Brendan (Sean Bean) is a young man looking for work. He ends up gophering at a jazz club owned by shady local businessman Finney (Sting).  At the same time an (frankly ludicrous) “American Week” is taking place in the city, intended to pump foreign investment into the city, spearheaded by the unscrupulous Cosmo (Tommy Lee Jones).  Brendan finds himself drawn into a deadly situation as Finney refuses to sell his club to the crooked money men.

If Edward Hopper was a Geordie, his paintings would look like any street scene from Stormy MondayFiggis and legendary cinematographer Roger Deakins retain the Toon’s distinctive identity while bathing it in a halo of pulsing neon and scoring it with the controlled chaos of free jazz.  The world of gangsters and molls, sleazy bars and naïve young men in over their heads translates surprisingly well to the North East at the fag-end of the Thatcher years.

One can almost ignore the slight plot, and soak up the atmosphere of the piece. For sure, there are individual scenes that stand out: an eccentric Polish free-form jazz band doing unspeakable things to the “Star Spangled Banner” at a reception banquet; a fresh-faced Bean’s bubbling chemistry with American waitress Melanie Griffith; Sting proving surprisingly bad-assed in the face of two baleful heavies; but the main joy is watching the camera linger over the streets, bridges and docks by the Tyne.  Residents of Leith may find a chord being struck with them as Figgis’ evocative classicism expresses regret at impending gentrification and the loss of character that tends to bring.  There’s undoubted sentiment among the grit; a tear leaving a streak in the grime.

Stormy Monday is a taut little thriller; as brisk as the weather by the Tyne in fact.  It’s undoubtedly the mood that lingers in the mind rather than the generic story – although a comically awful love scene lodges in the memory for the wrong reasons – and is another lovingly eccentric release from those custodians of the obscure and the cult at Arrow Video.