Perry Henzell directs Jimmy Cliff, Carl Bradshaw and Janet Bartley in this Jamaican drama that switches into a crime thriller, starring the reggae superstar.

A movie that will always be more famous for its perfect reggae soundtrack (one of the best LPs ever released) than its content. The music from Cliff and contemporaries gives the haphazard plot an energy and life that not even far less naive jukebox movies have ever matched. The first half follows a country boy with a dream struggling to survive in the big bad city. It is a simple piece of neo-realistic filmmaking, one that fits Cliff’s limited but charming central turn. And while he has a hard time making his mark in Kingston, a city of corruption and hypocrisy, you couldn’t predict where the film will swerve halfway in… unless you’ve seen him brandishing guns on the poster. Midway through his tough new life, Cliff’s Ivanhoe Martin goes to the cinema and watches a cowboy movie. He cheers at the black hat taking down the law. Then for rest of our story his hustle shifts; he records a hit song, gets the girl, becomes a drug dealer, an outlaw and a folk hero. Is this a hard working boy’s fantasy or the tough path of crime readily open to a kid with stunted dreams in an unfair society? I’m not sure the film ever knowingly asks that question. Henzell just wants to get some exploitation bolted on to his production. Some shoot outs, some sex and violence to make itself marketable. And why not? So two films in one, both of which might be technically unnoteworthy but have a unique liveliness and milieu that win you over. The Harder They Come is the dictionary definition of a cult item but the unabashed positives of it make it very enjoyable.

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