A History of Violence Movie Review - Page 2

The film stacks the deck right from the start by showing us the spree killers checking out of a motel, pausing along the way to slaughter the owner, his wife and, in a sickeningly drawn-out sequence, their whimpering daughter. This opening acts as a benediction for Tom: throughout the film, there is never any doubt that his opponents deserve to be killed, and his violence never harms any innocent bystanders. Even when Tom's son, apparently inspired by his father's example, lashes out and hospitalizes a school bully, the film presents it as a thoroughly righteous butt-whipping. The mutually degrading nature of violence — its corrosive effect on the aggressor as well as the victim — is skittered past. That's par for the course with most films, but A History of Violence consistently presents itself as something more, only to just as consistently deliver something less.

Most of Cronenberg's films are concerned with the loss or alteration of identity, whether physical (The Brood, The Fly), mental (Dead Ringers, Spider) or technological (Videodrome, (i>ExistenZ), and A History of Violence could have been his most subtle and down-to-earth exploration of the theme. We get hints of the genuinely adult movie that might have been in the depiction of Tom's marriage to Edie (Maria Bello), and the aforementioned sex scenes. The first is a bit of spicy role-playing, made ironic by the fact that Edie wants to invent a teenage past for a man who has invented far more than that. The second is a brutal near-rape, following the revelation of Tom's true nature, that reveals the attractiveness and repulsiveness of violence, and the way it is bound up in sexuality. It also shows Tom attempting to reassert his place in Edie's life, by means that risk the utter destruction of his marriage.

That's why it feels like a betrayal when the finale of A History of Violence descends into comic book action, with Tom dispatching an entire mansion's worth of thugs as easily as Billy Jack pulverized a park full of rednecks — Mortensen even has his own version of Tom Laughlin's trademarked slow burn, in which a slow, reasonable tone of voice signals major pain just around the corner. The thing of it is, the sequence — highlighted by a delightfully unexpected cameo by William Hurt — is great fun, and just this side of believable. But it doesn't belong in this movie. It belongs in the kind of dumb action flick A History of Violence was supposed to stand on its head.

Article Author: Steven Hart

Steven Hart is a freelance writer based in New Jersey. He blogs about politics and popular culture at The Opinion Mill. He also blogs about writing and more personal matters at StevenHartSite.

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