Seven Psychopaths (15)

Can Martin McDonagh’s follow-up to ‘In Bruges’ reach the same artistic heights as its much-lauded predecessor?

In the meta-fictional spirit of Seven Psychopaths, I’ll begin this review by talking about this review.  I found that once I began writing this piece, what had initially been intended as a straightforward film review quickly turned into a deeper analysis of the movie, one which couldn’t be conducted without going into spoilery detail about some of the film’s key scenes.  This was not pretension on my part, but merely something that occurred naturally as I tried to write about the film.  As such, in a way that coincidentally mirrors the bisected nature of Seven Psychopaths itself, this will be a review of two parts; part one a conventional film review, part two a more in-depth analysis of the film’s themes.  And with this being a Martin McDonagh film, there’s depth aplenty.  You have been warned.

PART ONE (to be read before – or after – viewing the film):

Back in 2008, Martin McDonagh (a writer/director with an extensive background in theatre) surprised a lot of movie-goers with his brilliant black comedy In Bruges.  Those who had seen McDonagh’s Oscar-winning short Six Shooter might have been expecting the jarring combination of violence, humour and pathos that characterises his work, but many who went in cold would have been mislead by the new film’s marketing campaign, which had been at great pains to portray In Bruges as little more than a buddy-comedy with an exotic setting.  Strangely, and despite In Bruges‘ becoming a cult hit in the interim, the same fate seems to have befallen McDonagh’s new film Seven Psychopaths, with posters and trailers for the film placing the emphasis firmly on the screwball comedy elements of the movie.  This isn’t to say that Seven Psychopaths isn’t funny, because it definitely is, but just like its Belgian-set predecessor there’s a profound darkness to the film that counteracts these moments of light-heartedness, a darkness at which the film’s marketing has only hinted.

In short, Seven Psychopaths is a movie about itself.  McDonagh’s metafictional conceit becomes apparent early on in the film, as Colin Farrell’s burnt-out screenwriter Marty (an excellent foil for the film’s crazier characters) labours away on a script for an action movie called – you guessed it – ‘Seven Psychopaths’, with precious little success.  Keen to help is Marty’s eccentric actor friend Billy (Sam Rockwell, the undisputed highlight), who also moonlights as a dog-napper with his partner Hans (Christopher Walken, better than he’s been in years).  When Billy kidnaps the favourite pet of mob boss Charlie Costello (a menacing Woody Harrelson), the three men are plunged into a world of brutal violence, and all of a sudden Marty finds himself with plenty of material for his screenplay, whether he wants it or not.

Although a very funny film, due mainly to the great chemistry and dialogue between the three leads, Seven Psychopaths also features a couple of unexpected twists and some truly shocking moments which keep the audience from becoming too comfortable.  Like In Bruges, it walks a fine line between tragedy and comedy, and often manages to encompass both at the same time.  Without ramming it down the audience’s throat, McDonagh has created a crime film which also serves as a critique of crime films.  His eschewal of the conventional three-act structure climaxing in a blaze of glory is signposted in one of the ‘meta’ conversations between Marty and Billy, where the writer expresses his desire to create a film which sets itself up as the ultimate revenge flick, before simply ending with the main characters heading out into the desert and talking out their problems.  McDonagh, though, is too much of a sucker for a big shoot-out to let the film end in so subdued a fashion, but it is the way in which he handles the onscreen violence in Seven Psychopaths which is arguably the most interesting thing about the film.

Make no mistake, Seven Psychopaths is very funny, but it is also very violent.  So much so that its receipt of a 15 certificate from the BBFC at times seems surprisingly lenient.  The film has a high body count, and doesn’t skimp on the gore, with several scenes of execution, mutilation and immolation shot in an unflinching style.  It becomes clear throughout the course of the film, though, that McDonagh is not interested in glorifying violence, but rather in emphasising the true horror of it.  The casual brutality displayed by some characters is made all the more shocking when McDonagh, through Marty, forces the audience to dwell on the traumatic consequences of their actions, and question whether such individuals should ever be glamorised or thought of as heroic.  In a neat subversion of movie conventions, the true moments of heroism in Seven Psychopaths come through characters’ rejection of violence in the face of danger, rather than their embracing it and thus blurring the line between heroes and villains.  Rarely has a pacifist viewpoint been so eloquently put across in mainstream cinema, and the film’s biggest strength is this rebuke to film-makers who would follow the outmoded conventions of the medium by having their heroes pursue a path of violence as if there were no other option.

Seven Psychopaths is, however, more obviously flawed than the near-perfect In Bruges, and there are a couple of issues which do manage to detract from the film’s abundant qualities.  McDonagh’s unconventional approach to narrative structure, while interesting, leads to pacing issues in the first half of the film.  There are several plot points that feel as though they needed more time to fully develop, and a number of sequences where McDonagh could perhaps have been more ruthless with his editing.  Also, the film’s treatment of its female characters is clumsily handed.  Although meta-fictional reference is made by Hans, upon reading Marty’s script, to the fact that his women characters are underwritten and generally suffer horrible fates, this mea culpa from McDonagh feels like a rather lazy attempt at subversion.  Why not utilise the same approach he adopts to tackle egregious movie violence when critiquing Hollywood’s dearth of decent female characterisation, by including in the film a genuinely strong female character, rather than simply copying the targets of his satire and then flagging it up for all to see?  As it is, Abbie Cornish, Olga Kurylenko and Linda Bright Clay have little more than cameo appearances in what is an utterly male-dominated film.

These gripes aside, Seven Psychopaths is undoubtedly another triumph for McDonagh and Farrell.  It works as a comedy, a tragedy, a crime thriller and a meditation on violence.  It also works as a subversive piece of meta-fiction, which satirises the conventions of Hollywood storytelling in a self-referential manner that manages to avoid pretentiousness.  The audience’s realisation that the movie they’re watching is the script that Farrell’s character struggles to finish is a gradual one, and it gives the film an intriguing dimension that will reward repeated viewings.  Having said all that, the film would not succeed nearly so well were it not for Sam Rockwell.  His nuanced portrayal of the unpredictable Billy – at once pathetic, lovable and a little scary – is the stand-out among a plethora of great performances in Seven Psychopaths, and Rockwell can feel legitimately cheated if he doesn’t receive an Oscar nomination come January.

PART TWO (to be read AFTER viewing the film):

Coming soon….