savageseraph (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
savageseraph) wrote2005-10-01 09:43 pm
savageseraph) wrote2005-10-01 09:43 pm
A History of Violence...
I almost didn't go see A History of Violence today. I've been feeling less than good lately, and I was tired after Serenity. However, by the time I finished my sopapillas, there was only 15 minutes until showtime, and given the crappy times the movie is playing by me, I figured I'd best seize the moment and the film.
I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting in this movie, but it wasn't quite what I got. Now, I wouldn't say that I'm disappointed, not at all, and no, not just because it was a Viggo film. What? Why are you all looking at me like that?
The acting in the film by all parties was wonderful, as was the way Cronenberg captured the small town life, the softer focus, the warmth of the colors, the light, which was in contrast to the city, which is cold and dark and oppressive and often dank.
Because this is a Cronenberg film, I never quite believed that Tom Stall wasn't Joey Cusack. However, Mortensen's acting was certainly enough to cast a shadow of doubt, as he is so utterly convincing in the role. When Stall tells his wife to pull out the shotgun because he is convinced Fogarty and his men are coming to kill them, I became a bit more suspicious. Then when he dispatches Fogarty's men with a clinical precision, I didn't even need him to tell Fogarty that his one mistake was not killing him back in Philly when he had the chance for me to know.
The thing that I loved so much about the way this film was put together were the mirror scenes/actions, scenes/action that replay, repeat, though at a slant like a funhouse mirror, other scenes in the movie. The playful sex between Tom and his wife Edie at the beginning of the film is mirrored in the violent sex on the stairs. Tom shooting the robbers at the diner to save the waitress is mirrored in his son killing Fogarty to save him.
While the most violently thing Edie does is slap Tom, the heat and anger with which she lashes out at Fogarty in the mall points at her own inner rage, and if he and his men showed up and threatened her kids, I can imagine her using that shotgun in a hearbeat. Even the violent sex on the stairs isn't a rape. It starts out of anger and struggle, and while it stays violent, it's clear they both enjoy it and that it is Joey, not Tom, who is fucking her. I think that (the act and the fact she enjoyed it) disturbs Edie as much as all the rest. Realizing that it's in her too.
Tom and Jack, his son, form perfect mirrors of each other. With the father Joey, who is an efficient killer, wraps around himself the glamour of Tom Stall. He is the wolf pulling on sheep's clothing and becoming a sheep. His son is the one who avoids conflict, tries to defuse and deflect it, and yet he still finally beats the kid who is bullying him senseless and kills Fogarty. Does it matter which state each of them started out in when they both arrive at the same place in moments where their safety and that of those they care about is threatened?
Tom chose to walk away from a life of violence. We don't know if it was remorse or the sure knowledge that it would likely earn him a way to an early grave. Or both. Still, he didn't have to it. He chose to. Do we applaud him for that? For acting to defend others now? Or do we see it as him falling back into a life that he can leave behind but never be rid of?
Jack learns very quickly to resort to violence. Anyone who has been picked on by the school bully has revenge fantasies like Jack lives out? Do we live his "victory" out with him, or do we mourn the passage of the sweet and likeable boy he was before all this? Was that boy the illusion that cloaks the one who shot Fogarty? Or is it the other way around?
When Richie asks Joey if he dreams of himself as Joey or as Tom, I would have liked to have heard the answer to that. However, that isn't a question that Cronenberg answers for us: it's the one he asks us to grapple with.
I like that Cronenberg leaves the question open in the end as well. That there is the lovely silent scene where Tom comes home and Sarah brings his plate to the table and Jack passes the food, and Tom and Edie sit across from each other, not looking at each other for a long time until they finally do. Both of them look wounded and haunted and on the verge of tears.
There's no happily ever after here, though I think it safe to say that Tom will stay with his family. Edie wouldn't have covered for him with the sheriff if she wanted him gone. There wouldn't have been a plate and silverware sitting on the counter waiting if they weren't expecting or hoping he would come home. However, wanting to be Tom (for Joey) or wanting to have Tom back (for the family) comes with the knowledge of the fact that there can be no Tom without Joey.
And maybe that is the way it is for all of us. Deep down.
I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting in this movie, but it wasn't quite what I got. Now, I wouldn't say that I'm disappointed, not at all, and no, not just because it was a Viggo film. What? Why are you all looking at me like that?
The acting in the film by all parties was wonderful, as was the way Cronenberg captured the small town life, the softer focus, the warmth of the colors, the light, which was in contrast to the city, which is cold and dark and oppressive and often dank.
Because this is a Cronenberg film, I never quite believed that Tom Stall wasn't Joey Cusack. However, Mortensen's acting was certainly enough to cast a shadow of doubt, as he is so utterly convincing in the role. When Stall tells his wife to pull out the shotgun because he is convinced Fogarty and his men are coming to kill them, I became a bit more suspicious. Then when he dispatches Fogarty's men with a clinical precision, I didn't even need him to tell Fogarty that his one mistake was not killing him back in Philly when he had the chance for me to know.
The thing that I loved so much about the way this film was put together were the mirror scenes/actions, scenes/action that replay, repeat, though at a slant like a funhouse mirror, other scenes in the movie. The playful sex between Tom and his wife Edie at the beginning of the film is mirrored in the violent sex on the stairs. Tom shooting the robbers at the diner to save the waitress is mirrored in his son killing Fogarty to save him.
While the most violently thing Edie does is slap Tom, the heat and anger with which she lashes out at Fogarty in the mall points at her own inner rage, and if he and his men showed up and threatened her kids, I can imagine her using that shotgun in a hearbeat. Even the violent sex on the stairs isn't a rape. It starts out of anger and struggle, and while it stays violent, it's clear they both enjoy it and that it is Joey, not Tom, who is fucking her. I think that (the act and the fact she enjoyed it) disturbs Edie as much as all the rest. Realizing that it's in her too.
Tom and Jack, his son, form perfect mirrors of each other. With the father Joey, who is an efficient killer, wraps around himself the glamour of Tom Stall. He is the wolf pulling on sheep's clothing and becoming a sheep. His son is the one who avoids conflict, tries to defuse and deflect it, and yet he still finally beats the kid who is bullying him senseless and kills Fogarty. Does it matter which state each of them started out in when they both arrive at the same place in moments where their safety and that of those they care about is threatened?
Tom chose to walk away from a life of violence. We don't know if it was remorse or the sure knowledge that it would likely earn him a way to an early grave. Or both. Still, he didn't have to it. He chose to. Do we applaud him for that? For acting to defend others now? Or do we see it as him falling back into a life that he can leave behind but never be rid of?
Jack learns very quickly to resort to violence. Anyone who has been picked on by the school bully has revenge fantasies like Jack lives out? Do we live his "victory" out with him, or do we mourn the passage of the sweet and likeable boy he was before all this? Was that boy the illusion that cloaks the one who shot Fogarty? Or is it the other way around?
When Richie asks Joey if he dreams of himself as Joey or as Tom, I would have liked to have heard the answer to that. However, that isn't a question that Cronenberg answers for us: it's the one he asks us to grapple with.
I like that Cronenberg leaves the question open in the end as well. That there is the lovely silent scene where Tom comes home and Sarah brings his plate to the table and Jack passes the food, and Tom and Edie sit across from each other, not looking at each other for a long time until they finally do. Both of them look wounded and haunted and on the verge of tears.
There's no happily ever after here, though I think it safe to say that Tom will stay with his family. Edie wouldn't have covered for him with the sheriff if she wanted him gone. There wouldn't have been a plate and silverware sitting on the counter waiting if they weren't expecting or hoping he would come home. However, wanting to be Tom (for Joey) or wanting to have Tom back (for the family) comes with the knowledge of the fact that there can be no Tom without Joey.
And maybe that is the way it is for all of us. Deep down.