A History of Violence

The very first thing that struck me during the viewing of this film, before any of its onscreen action began, was the sound of cicadas; those insects that usually convey the buzzing serenity of a content suburbia. And yet, during the film’s prolonged opening shot, the cicadas begin to sound alarmingly hostile, as if they’re hinting at the dark secrets brooding beneath the surface of the story’s seemingly clean-cut atmosphere. Thus begins the latest movie from David Cronenberg, a man previously best known for his additions to the horror genre, such as Scanners and The Fly. Now he has made a character-based drama about the dark side of human nature that is so thrillingly well-made that it deserves immediate comparison to films of the Mystic River caliber.

After doing a fine job of portraying the “heroic straight-arrow” type in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, Viggo Mortensen is ingeniously cast as Tom Stall, a peaceful husband and father who inhabits the kind of small American town Frank Capra used to be fond of (the kind where, no matter what bar you walk into, everybody knows your name). One night, a man (whose name no one in town knows) enters Tom’s diner, and demands that he be given coffee. Tom politely informs him that the diner is closed, which inspires the man to pull out a gun. With startling intensity, Tom kills off the perpetrator, and is lauded as a local hero. Things seem like they will go back to normal, until the diner is infiltrated by another strange man, who has a dead eye that seems to pierce directly through Tom’s soul. Plus, he keeps referring to Tom as “Joey”…and that’s all the plot you’ll get from me, especially considering that the film’s journey is one of endless fascination and unpredictability.

Mortensen shines alongside Maria Bello as his tormented wife, racked with bewilderment and suspicion, while Ed Harris and William Hurt are both mesmerizing in supporting roles dripping with hypnotic (and darkly amusing) malice. What makes this film so thoroughly compelling is Cronenberg’s near-obsessive study of the extent that violence is harbored in each of us on a daily basis, no matter how harmless we may seem. It’s a credit to the film’s genius that it kept reminding me of two entirely different films that I admire: Capra’s It’s a Wonderful Life and Gaspar Noe’s Irreversible. Wonderful Life, still my personal favorite film, conveys the idyllic morals and values that Tom Stall’s town seems to cling to as an enduring structure. Irreversible, still the single most disturbing film I’ve ever seen, illustrates in reverse-order the downward spiral of events that can lead seemingly good people to commit atrocious acts of violence.

A History of Violence melds these two cinematic concepts together with the Darwinian philosophy of “survival of the fittest”, which seems to so often replace moral conscience during life’s most desperate moments. This is unforgettably illustrated in scenes involving Tom’s timid teenage son Jack (Ashton Holmes in a superb feature-film debut), who has an extraordinary moment in a locker room, in which he momentarily talks a bully out of fighting him by verbally emphasizing his subordinate placement on the social food chain. Yet since bullies never stop until they get their fix, Jack is finally pushed over the edge and beats his tormentor to a pulp, leading to his father lecturing him about how his “family doesn’t solve problems through fighting.” Jack sharply replies, “Yeah, we only use guns, right?”

It’s moments like these that make up the chilling brilliance of Cronenberg’s tale of the conflict between mankind’s primal and moral urges. The actual violence, while never excessive, is more potent and jarring than any amount of action blockbusters, and there are two contrasting scenes of lovemaking between husband and wife that illustrate the transitional complexity of their relationship better than any number of dialogue scenes. Cronenberg ends the film on a masterfully open-ended note that is sure to provoke discussion within the audience as the credits begin to role, and Mortensen’s steely-eyed performance is sure to resonate with viewers long after seeing it.

As I left the theater, I contemplated the note George Bailey received from his angel at the end of Wonderful Life that stated, “No man is a failure who has friends.” True, but what if a friend is in danger? Would you kill in order to save a friend? Would your inability to kill make you a failure? Is violence a crime or a necessity? You will no doubt find yourself asking the same questions after seeing A History of Violence, which is cinema at its most unsettling, unflinching, and unforgettable

Rating: ***** (out of *****)