You need a thick skin to enjoy Seven Psychopaths. As anyone who’s seen 2008’s cult favorite In Bruges knows, Irish playwright/writer-director
Martin McDonagh is far from conservative when it comes to violence, profanity,
nudity and political incorrectness, not treading the line between provocative
and offensive so much as lunging over it with no-holds-barred and middle
fingers flying. In the span of 110 minutes, he pokes fun at virtually every
segment of the human population, including writers, the Irish, the obese, blacks,
gays, Christians, Fox News and, of course, women; at least midgets – whoops, I
meant dwarves – somehow manage to
escape unscathed this time. In short, if you have delicate sensibilities and/or
are not secretly psychopathic, this probably isn’t the movie for you. Don’t
worry, I’ll wait for you to leave…
Are
they gone?
Alright,
now we can get down to business. Seven
Psychopaths is a blast. It’s tempting to judge it solely based on its
similarities to In Bruges (which is
completely deserving of the adoration it receives on the Internet, by the way),
and there’s never any doubt that the two films sprang from the same mind. Fans
of In Bruges should appreciate the
fast-paced dialogue, midnight-black humor, eccentric characters and
philosophical musings that characterize Seven
Psychopaths, and detractors will probably decry its aforementioned
vulgarity, far-fetched plot, larger-than-life characters and general lack of subtlety.
Personally, I still think In Bruges is
the superior product, though even now, it’s hard to tell how much of my love
for that movie stems from its actual quality as opposed to the fact that my
expectations were literally nonexistent when I walked into the theater; it’s
one of the few times that a movie has genuinely surprised me. Anyway, as much
as I liked watching their mile-a-minute, frequently loud and obscenity-laden
banter, the pairing of Marty and Billy just doesn’t have the same emotional
resonance as Ray and Ken, and the spiritual themes that felt, if not quite understated,
then at least unaffected in McDonagh’s debut come off a touch too heavy-handed
in his follow-up. There’s a certain poignancy in that movie’s simplicity; at
its core, it was about two friends and not much else.
Seven Psychopaths, on the other hand, is
anything but simple. It involves a dozen characters and layers upon layers of
stories, constantly toggling between past and present, reality and fiction. And
yet, paradoxically, the narrative feels tighter, more streamlined, than it did
in In Bruges. It still meanders and
pops up in weird, unexpected places, but even when McDonagh ventures down
another tangent, there’s never a doubt that he knows where the story is
heading. Nothing feels extraneous or arbitrary, and the film moves at a
reasonable clip despite the lengthy, sometimes rambling conversations that
comprise a decent chunk of its running time. It’s delightful to watch as the
multiple storylines unfold and eventually converge, unveiling startling twists
and hidden nuances.
But the
cornerstone of the movie – what keeps it from falling into total chaos – is the
cast. A few of the myriad A-list (or near-A-list) actors involved are concealed
in small supporting roles, such as Abbie Cornish and Gabourey Sidibe (“Life is
hard for women,” Marty observes), but there’s little point in complaining about
it because the four people who do get a substantial amount of screen-time are
so magnetic. As Marty, a fictional stand-in of sorts for McDonagh, Colin
Farrell once again shows that when given a good script, he is as charismatic
and compelling as any lead actor. This isn’t quite as revelatory as his
comeback performance in In Bruges,
largely because this time, he plays the only normal, sane character in the
movie, but it’s always nice to see him assume a role effortlessly instead of
struggling to maintain a consistent American accent or trying to be a Tom
Cruise-like action star. Mickey Rourke initially signed on to play the
hot-tempered, dog-loving gangster Charlie Costello, but when he dropped out due
to alleged conflicts with the director, Woody Harrelson came on board. I
couldn’t be more relieved about this change. As much as I wish that Rourke
would fulfill the promise he showed in The
Wrestler, at this point, I’ve more or less given up, and Harrelson (who
actually did make a successful
comeback with 2009’s Zombieland) is a
more than adequate replacement. Flamboyant without verging on cartoonish, he
perfectly embodies the archetype of a sadistic criminal who acts tougher than
he actually is (yes, that is an archetype); one flick of his steely blue eyes
will send shivers down your spine. Christopher Walken pulls off arguably the
film’s most difficult role as Hans, a devout Christian with a dark past, and he
does so largely by playing it straight, ditching the usual theatrics and quirks
in favor of a quieter, more naturalistic approach. He ultimately forms the
movie’s emotional center, such as it is.
However,
as terrific as all of those actors are, the stand-out, hands-down, is Sam
Rockwell. Even when relegated to small supporting roles (which happens a lot),
he makes the most of his limited screen time, sometimes even stealing the movie
from the real star as he did in Iron Man
2. Here, although he’s technically still supporting, Rockwell finally gets
a part that makes use of his considerable talent. And he is nothing short of
mesmerizing. Alternately congenial and menacing, cocky and insecure, sleazy and
sincere, imprudent and shrewd, he inhabits a character that has no discernible
redeeming qualities and makes him not only believable but also captivating,
even sympathetic at times. When he’s onscreen, it’s impossible to not notice
him, to not breathlessly wonder what he’s going to do next. File this as reason
#26 under “why Sam Rockwell is the most under-appreciated actor in Hollywood”.
Links:
http://www.digitalspy.com/movies/news/a407150/colin-farrell-sam-rockwell-in-new-seven-psychopaths-pictures.html
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