Its string of lesser sequels coined the derisive term “Death Wish cinema,” as well as unfortunately relegating Charles Bronson to something of a joke, but tony revenge tales with well-groomed or otherwise unlikely protagonists, from Jodie Foster’s The Brave One to last year’s first-quarter smash hit Taken, continue to crop up at the rate of three or four a year, and will always be a part of moviemaking as long as people have reason to fear for their families (which is to say as long as people have families). The gritty, engaging Harry Brown again proves this sub-genre is not purely some aggressive Stateside phenomenon. Michael Caine has cycled through his share of kindly butlers and gruff mentors of late, but his starring role as the titular avenging pensioner helps give this tale a robustness, mooring and social relevance lacking in many such films.

Harry Brown unfolds in London’s East End, against a backdrop of marauding, tension and despair. After his old pal Len Atwell (David Bradley), a fellow retiree, gets beaten to death by a group of thug teenagers, 76-year-old veteran Harry is devastated, and more than a bit scared. He doesn’t immediately start taking measures to try to make sure those responsible are brought to justice, however; like Len, he’s set upon at night, returning home from a local pub. His first act of violence is also one of defense, stabbing his attacker with a bayonet from an old Army rifle.

Meanwhile, dedicated and by-the-book detective inspector Alice Frampton (Emily Mortimer), along with her more skeptical partner, Andrew Childs (Iain Glen), are tasked by their boss with bringing this area under control, before its tensions completely boil over. They interview Harry, and arrest a gaggle of local ne’er-do-wells in Len’s death, including sneering sociopath Noel Winters (Ben Drew). Unable to completely crack their wall of silence, however, they eventually have to let the kids go. It’s at this point that Harry becomes a more proactive force of violent counterweight. Alice has suspicions about what Harry is up to, and works to bring him to justice, but isn’t able to seal the deal before a mini-riot at the neighborhood’s high-rise dwelling puts many more people in jeopardy.

Working with cinematographer Martin Ruhe (Anton Corbijn’s Control, Julie Delpy’s The Countess), debut feature director Daniel Barber crafts an unnerving, kinetic, point-of-view opening to the movie (some of the kids take cell phone video-camera footage of their exploits), but never allows Harry Brown to tip over into a jittery piece of caffeinated vengeance. It’s perfectly modulated, balanced between austere and modern. The grimy, brown-and-grey color palette convincingly communicates a setting that is oppressive and stifling for all those involved — it conveys the squalor, lack of opportunity and attendant acting out for adolescents, while also capturing the resultant fear of a general, law-abiding populace who has to keep their eyes down lest they be accused of looking askance at someone.

Martin Phipps and Ruth Barrett’s score ably portends doom, rumbling like an ominous church organ at times, and while Gary Young’s script isn’t necessarily revelatory, it does allow for a small handful of twists. Its chief asset may actually be its cleanly delineated structure, which allows for a couple remarkable long-play scenes to unfold slowly and naturally — one in a drug den, where Harry goes to try to secure a gun, and another an interrogation sequence in which Alice remains cool and collected in the face of Ben’s nasty rants. While matters of violence are at its core, Harry Brown isn’t a movie that feels the need to goad or prod viewers all that unnecessarily with flashes of stylistic excess, and this works quite well, in lockstep with its shuffling protagonist. It’s a kind of urban western, in a way. Things only get a bit hairy in its gone-to-hell finale, which (unsurprisingly, I guess) favors brawny crescendo over something more muted.

Through this all, Caine delivers a performance befitting his experience, and in line with some of his strengths — an ability to convey anxiety or swallowed fear within physical stillness. Informed by the crumbling social structures around him, Harry’s journey is an honest one. It may not be marked by choices all of us would make in our own lives, but it rings true. Because, after all, the capacity for violence exists in all of us. (Samuel Goldwyn, R, 101 minutes)