Natural Born Killers is one of the very few films whose message transcends itself and bleeds into the actual material existence of the film in the real world. Three-time Academy Award winner Oliver Stone set out to make a mockery of the American media’s sensationalistic obsession with anything celebrity — and most importantly how we, as citizens, hungrily eat it up. In this director's cut, restored is every visceral, psychedelic, and shocking moment Stone finely tuned to boost the moral of his tale.
Mallory falls for a sadistic but tender loving criminal, Mickey. He steals her away from her sexually and violently abusive father and they set out on a maddening psychological downward spiral of savagery and true love. Robert Downey Jr.’s Wayne Gale acts as a metaphorical assimilation of many a famous media journalist (mostly a Geraldo Rivera caricature), encouraging the propulsion of something as deplorable as serial murderers into celebrity status. In the case of the real world, Natural Born Killers was bashed for not only its extreme violence but for its daringly unconventional approach to filmmaking. In spite of – and perhaps thanks to – all of that, the film has proven its timeless artistic vision. The success of Natural Born Killers has been an amusingly ironic one.
Tommy Lee Jones says it best in one of the many interviews on the disc: “You don’t have be a very sophisticated person to know that this is not an exploitation film. This is an art film.” Stone set out to make something that was a deeper analysis on the consequences and logic behind violence and our appetite for it among other things. He wanted to show us the inconvenient truth that deviants are people too – or used to be – and there are very sound reasons behind their psychological divergence. In Stone’s commentary, you'll discover proof of his incredibly deep grasp of psychology and metaphor through the art of film.
If there are any faults in the film, they’re forgettable. A couple of parts drag. And at the time of this writing, I can’t think of much else unless Stone mentions it himself. In his humility, which Tom Sizemore speaks of highly, Stone admits that Mickey’s taking of the media room later in the film is a bit unrealistic, and would have done it much differently if he could go back.
Still, the film is expertly shot, bouncing between imagery from nearly every type of camera you can imagine from every angle you can imagine — 8mm, 16mm, 32mm, 35mm, and Super 8, to name just a few. Each camera serves its own metaphorical or mood-setting purpose accompanied by an onslaught of over 3,000 cuts, while most films average around 700.
Sound and music incessantly set tone and emotional cues. Each scene and segment has its own soundtrack and sometimes a reprise of particular songs to familiarize the viewer with a common theme or mood. Songs are sometimes mixed with other songs or sounds to create battling emotions or to intensify a scene. This can get as noisy as you would assume, but this only serves to enhance the hectic rampage of cuts, colors, and content.
Performances are equally as strong as the production. Each personality is a caricature of the press, the law, or the media and the entire cast plays along with a funky grace. But I want to speak specifically of Juliette Lewis’ Mallory Knox. Lewis is the only female actor I have ever seen who can exude a persona that's as equally hard-assed as it is genuine and intimidating.
In one scene in particular in which she and Woody Harrelson’s character exact revenge on Mallory’s parents, Lewis conveys a potent hatred that instills a slight sense of fear in my gut. Look at fervent evil in her eyes as she sets her mother’s bed on fire and you’ll see precisely why there couldn't have been anyone better for this role. The best part about her performance is that she never forces it. Eerily, it seems to come naturally to her — no pun, I swear.