Cinerant

Weekend Violence

Europeans frequently talk about what a puritanical culture we are that embraces violence, but shies away from even the slightest whiff of sex. There’s probably a lot of truth to that Manifest Destiny has been the American mantra for years. The very basis of Manifest Destiny believes that if land is inalienably American (i.e., --initially defined as European), then sometimes it must be taken forcibly. Unfortunately, imminent domain doesn’t apply in these cases. Blood, slaughter, and human rights abuses typically were how these things were achieved.

While very few would condone this behavior on U.S. soil, the acceptance of violence has so pervaded the basic fabric of our society that it’s with too much ease that we chalk it up as “good fun”, when in reality, we have become a culture that has devalued the sanctity of life from all accounts, partially because we are so transfixed by the macabre gloom of death. While there are many reasons to be interested in seeing, discussing, and representing death, there are very few examinations of the pain of loss and the possibilities that it brings. (Yes, Six Feet Under, I’m talking to what you didn’t do.)

This weekend however, I saw two films that demonstrate the dichotomy of what cinema can do to remedy this casual acceptance of violence, as well as a slightly offensive example of everything Hollywood is currently doing wrong in its use of violence.

First—the lame one: Flightplan. First and foremost, I think “plan” is incredibly misleading. There was no plan evident in this movie. There were plot holes big enough to plant a city in. Sometimes there’s abusing coincidence. Then there’s turning coincidence over and doing things to that only happen to little boys at the Neverland Ranch. This movie seems to do the latter to the plot.

Despite the plot problems, the film tries to be a psychological thriller. It’s got an interesting set-up and Jodie Foster does a good job of creating a compelling mommy dearest that we’re willing to follow and go with. So why does the film need to smack people around, hit folks, blow things up, and throw in as much violent mayhem as possible? Because the story needs it? PLEASE! It’s about as necessary as a botox injection. It’s there because the filmmakers know the fastest way to get an audience on their side is to let the heroine engage in some righteous violence. And it serves no purpose in this film other than to enflame the prurient interest. In legal circles, that’s one of the criteria for porn to quit being considered porn and be considered obscenity.

A History of Violence however takes the exact opposite effect. It seeks to look at the place of violence in a person’s life, as well as the far-flung implications that violence has. The film has a simple set-up—Tom Stall (Viggo Mortensen) lives in a small town in Indiana. One night, his diner gets robbed and one of his customers is about to be raped. He takes action and becomes the town hero. Suddenly, strange men show up at his door, wanting to talk to him. His family then gets sucked into his heroic deeds and the life he led before them.

It’s unfair to say that the film is violent. Yes, there are more people that die in Violence as compared to Flightplan, but far fewer than in The Matrix, Kingdom of Heaven, Gladiator, or any other R rated movie (that’s not Wedding Crashers). What will make people contend that it’s violent is that the usage of the violence. Director David Cronenberg desires to comment on the psychological impact of violence upon everyone that comes in contact with it—including us as the audience.

There’s a particularly strong subplot involving Tom’s son, Sam (Ashton Holmes), who has to deal with a bully at his high school and tries to do his best to keep from giving in to the violence he can feel building, but ultimately he gives himself over to a force that is far bigger than his own self-control. This teenager tries to gain a grasp of what this new inclusion of terror into his means for everything he’s ever known.

Despite the bigger names of Mortensen and Maria Bello as Tom’s intelligent wife, it’s Holmes that steals the show—until William Hurt walks in with a glorified cameo that subverts the “nice guy” image he so carefully cultivated during the 80s and 90s. These two performances are both among the strongest supporting performances you’re likely to see all year. They’re only topped by Cronenberg’s deliberate and measured direction, coupled with Josh Olson’s crisp screenplay.

A History of Violence might not be perfect, but it knows what it’s doing. More importantly, it understands the ramifications and power of taking a life. In an era of video-game shoot ‘em ups, you can’t ask much more from a movie.

posted by cinegod @ 12:53 PM