Jeremy Saulnier 2013 USA
Starring: Macon Blair, Devin Ratray, Amy Hargreaves, Kevin Kolack, Eve Plumb, David W. Thompson, Stacy Rock, Sidné Anderson, Brent Werzner
Jeremy Saulnier's tense, visceral indie, Blue Ruin, is a film of hidden depths, opening on the interior of an everyday home and invoking thoughts of family photographs before the camera slowly advances on a bathtub partially obscured by a curtain. There's the sound of running water but little else when suddenly an arm reaches out and turns off the tap followed by a face also concealed, this time behind a large ginger beard and unkempt mess of hair. This is Dwight, the main character, but we're not in a horror movie as one may reasonably expect. As we quickly discover this isn't even his house and, on hearing the owners return, he dives out of a side window and makes a run for it, apparently having broken in to bathe. By day he makes his home under the boardwalk at a local beach and by night in his rust-bitten old Pontiac. He scavenges food from dumpsters, watches, waits and, in a quiet moment, reads a book by torchlight, and writes a postcard with the heading 'dear', signs that he hasn't totally lost his humanity or links to the civilised world but also that this state of vagrancy has become worryingly normal to him. Still perhaps the most unforeseen twist comes when he first speaks and he's not only relatively eloquent but in fact so softly spoken that it's almost as if his voice has also taken to a life of hermitry. Later he sheers his scraggy locks and shaves his beard off and suddenly resembles any number of ordinary, even dull office workers, his image virtually drained of threat or danger. Regardless the police know him by name and patronise him as they might a sick child, and when he's taken to the station it's merely so he has a safe and understanding environment while they give him bad news - "He's going to be released". Who 'he' is and what his connection to Dwight is isn't revealed until after the latter has committed a brutal, very nearly botched, act of vengeance and even then a couple of clever, seemingly throwaway lines establish the possibility that his victim may have actually been innocent (at least of the crime Dwight suspects him of) and the look on his face suggests that the relief he expected to feel just won't surface. Unlike so many other revenge thrillers however the violence here is generally portrayed as an unspeakable necessity (the twitchy lead at one point stutters "the rest of his head is over there" in terror and later cries like an infant when operating on himself) rather than existing purely for brainless effect and most shockingly a vein of black comedy linked to Dwight's incompetence appears as a counterpoint to the violence but never feels out of place. After his first killing Dwight attempts to slash the tires of his opponent's limo but only succeeds in slitting open his own palm then finds that he's dropped his keys during the attack. The limo is his only means of escape but he's interrupted within a matter of seconds by blaring rap music and a knocking from a passenger still sitting in the back and it then transpires that what he sees as familial loyalty may have actually put them in further peril. Likewise a scene where Dwight finds himself in the midst of revellers at a metal concert having to shout to be heard is a masterpiece of awkward discomfort. Less skilfully handled is an overused development involving a willing, old school-friend with guns aplenty. Basically just a means to arm the questionable central character, it doesn't even mine its potential for an exploration of the possible desensitization of a former soldier although the actor involved, Devin Ratray (best known as Buzz from the first two Home Alone films but also memorable for his supporting role in last year's wonderful Nebraska), does excellent work with what little he's given. Subsequent use of Little Willie John's No Regrets meanwhile comes across as just plain heavy-handed particularly alongside the subtlety of much of the material that surrounds it. Luckily other areas are expertly rendered not least the leading powerhouse performance of Macon Blair, his astonishing bereaved melancholy constantly covering any cracks just as Saulnier's accomplished and studious direction overrides slight clichés in his script. Some have spoken of the film in terms of Carpenter and Melville and, while that's a major overstatement, Saulnier's talent is undeniable. Blair is the film's greatest positive though and I want to see how he fairs with other dance partners. Call it bias or whatever you like but the thought of him working with Lars Von Trier gives my brain a hard-on. Lots and lots of brain hard-ons.
