Directed by: David Cronenberg
Cast: Viggo Mortensen, Maria Bello, Ed Harris, & William Hurt
Runtime: 96 min
Rating: R
Trailer

A History of Violence opens with a lazy long shot that disguises its intentions. The two opening characters, William (Greg Bryk) and Leland Jones (Stephen McHattie), step out of a motel room and drive their car ten yards to the registration office. Because of its slow pacing, your mind can’t help but wonder about who these people are and where the film is going? It is only apparent, near the end of the shot, when William goes back into the motel, that we realize all is not right with the seemingly innocuous beginning. The camera casually moves through the motel’s main desk to reveal blood stains, dead bodies and the realization that the characters are killers. What’s even more shocking is what comes next: a child wanders out of hiding only to be shot and killed. It’s important to note that William shoots the child without the customary hesitation familiar in most films. This heinous act is crucial in underscoring the innate nature of human violence and its lack of compassion, especially when it’s pulled off as nothing more than a means to an end. After the child’s murder there is an abrupt cut to the Stall family, quickly establishing the violence that will befall the family, and invariably contrasts the emotional complexity that will plague Tom Stall (Viggo Mortensen) when confronted with the possibility of resorting to violence himself.

The story really begins, though, when the two killers stumble into a small diner with the expectation of robbing and killing everyone inside. Tom, the owner, efficiently kills the two men, becoming a local hero in the process and, because of his new-found celebrity, sends more goons into town. Tom’s identity is called into question by Carl Fogarty (Ed Harris), a disfigured gangster sent to deliver Tom back to Philadelphia, and back to a previous life as Philly gangster named Joey. Could Tom really be Joey? Denying the accusation that he is Joey to his wife Edie (a wonderfully understated Maria Bello), Tom is thrust into the position of taking care of his family, including his son Jack (Ashton Holmes) and young daughter Sarah, while trying to maintain his established identity. Slowly we begin to realize that Tom might not be telling everything he knows, and that maybe, he is duping his family and the town into believing who he says he is. What makes the suspense so impressive is Mortensen’s portrayal. It’s at once vulnerable and stoic, representing the family man as nothing short of a mythical ideal.

How does Cronenberg turn this simple story into one of the best films of last year? First, there’s the setting. The story takes place in a typical mid-Western town, the kind of place where going to the local diner for a cup of coffee is the equivalent to a night out on the town. Sure, it’s a cliché of small-town life, but the violence that will take place there will betray the town’s tranquil mood. Second, and most importantly, is Cronenberg’s uncompromising cinematic vision. Utilizing wide angle lenses that create an uneasy distance between the characters and the camera, his films look artificial, creating a disorientating atmosphere, as if the world the characters inhabit is slightly off-kilter and in a wholly self-contained universe. Even though it is Cronenberg’s most commercial work to date, it’s not simply a hastily made lead-up to a Cronenberg pet-project down the road. A History of Violence can seamlessly be wedged into Cronenberg’s body of work because it continues his thematic exploration of buried desires and their horrific consequences. That he pulls off such a cinematic triumph without completely alienating the audience is a testament to his uniqueness as a storyteller and filmmaker.

Making a film like this can be a daunting task if one wishes to stray from the generic revenge picture and the formulaic family melodrama. And while both those genres are explored and exploited, the film never settles for standard moralizing, instead, it manoeuvres through the narrative with enough subtlety to gently reveal the film’s moral minefield. Is violence an ingrained part of Tom’s nature, helping him, as Fogarty says, “take care of those two bad men”, or is it something learned, as in the case with Tom’s son, Jack, and his actions against a local school jock? Cronenberg and screenwriter, Josh Olson (based on a graphic novel of the same name), suggest the former. Tom’s highly efficient killing makes it plainly clear that to Tom, killing is second nature and that presenting himself as husband, father and all-around good guy is where the acting really takes place. Cronenberg’s depiction of the on-screen violence is intense and graphic, but it is so sudden and jarring that it makes a stronger impression simply because it’s not glorified – which usually has the effect of revealing its manufactured conceit. It’s quick and brutal, allowing your subconscious to conjure up a more graphic effect than what is actually seen.

The ending, which has to be one of the best scenes in recent memory, is a haunting indictment of the modern American family. The scene occurs without dialogue, relying instead on nothing more than carefully composed reaction shots, with characters near a boiling point, barely able to restrain their emotions from spilling over. Cronenberg’s A History of Violence has been applauded by the critics as one of the better films of last year. That’s quite an accolade, but the film lives up to it.

Richard X
© Cinephile Magazine, 2006