Confounding, confronting our duality

A History of Violence (2005)
New Line Cinema presents a David Cronenberg film, starring Viggo Mortensen and Maria Bello. Written by Josh Olson. Based on a graphic novel by John Wagner and Vince Locke. 96m. R for strong brutal violence, graphic sexuality, nudity, language and some drug use.

3.5/5

Many know the Shakespeare platitude, “To thine own self be true.” But few are as familiar with Polonius’s addendum: “And it must follow, as the night the day: Thou canst not then be false to any man.”

The advice contains a simple, yet concrete, logic. After all, how can individuals claim sincerity towards others when they constantly deny their true natures? And what happens when identity of others is conjoined with identity of self, as in a family unit?

For guys like Tom Stall, notion of self doesn’t exist in blacks and whites. Traditionally reserved, the small-town diner operator exists as if he has walked straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. His life thrives on its simplicity – and its monotony. And although everyone in town knows his name, he’s managed to maintain a relatively low profile.

His life is upended when a seedy pair of out-of-towners stop in, looking for a quick score from the register and to quench their unseemly blood thirsts. In thwarting the attempt, Tom’s quick, decisive reaction brands him a hero.

It’s a label he quickly resists, vowing a return to normalcy instead of seeking the spotlight. But things are complicated when Irish mobsters show up, convinced Tom is an old adversary that blew town with a lot of personal accounts outstanding.

The film follows man’s examination of self; it’s a tale that weaves blood with disheartening notions of fate. “A History of Violence” is part-commentary as well, decrying America’s twisted notions of celebrity.

Although violent in nature, director David Cronenberg doesn’t allow the film to advocate sadism. Instead, it teeters on that precipice, providing shockingly graphic scenes while casting a Hitchcockian pall of doom over those who carry the violence out. (Mistaken identity is also a well-traversed Hitchcock theme.)

It’s Carl Fogarty (Ed Harris), one of the principal mob soldiers, who plants an acorn into the head of Tom’s wife, Edie (Maria Bello).

“Why don’t you ask Tom? Ask him why he’s so good at killing people.”

The audience is not party to Tom’s life outside quiet, community-minded, Millbrook, Ind. We sympathize therefore with Edie, who finds more questions with fewer definitive answers as she digs.

For years she’s only known her husband in broad outlines. Now that the entire picture may be coming clearer, she’s been placed at a crossroads. Should she lend credence to Fogarty’s words or trust her husband implicitly? And if Tom is not who he says he is, then what do we make of the Stall family?

As our understanding of Tom evolves, so does the way we interpret his actions. Cronenberg, a grand provocateur, provides his reference points amidst sexual relations. Early scenes between Edie and Tom are viewed as playful, even when the physicality becomes more aggressive. They fool around like teenagers, and she giggles as she calls him “bad boy.”

After the diner shooting, however, a similar scene plays more like the climax of “Straw Dogs,” cinema’s nightmare of sexual conjoining. We’re disturbed, rather than enchanted, by the couple’s modified perception of each other.

A fierce role-reversal has been undertaken, as well. Edie, the household’s primary breadwinner, is forced into her basic feminine role as protector. Her familial instincts become the glue that holds the slowly dissolving family unit together. But she’s now largely dominated by Tom, who gives her a sense of unease after the shootings.

It is human nature to question situations that challenge any previously held belief. And when Tom encounters tendencies he can’t readily explain, it’s natural to wonder if there isn’t a more logical approach to our assumptions.

The film dutifully provides closure, but rejects all attempts to satiate the status quo. Neither Tom nor his family is redeemed; instead, the denouement reeks of uncertainty. It’s a fitting end to an oftentimes dizzying film, which expertly has its audience second guessing their interpretations of the on-screen action.

The film holds few allegiances to the graphic novel from which it drew its primary inspiration, rearranging many plot elements while festering an extra layer of human rot. Yet Cronenberg and screenwriter Josh Olson do respect the graphic novel’s mature audience, transforming this film into something not appropriate for the youngsters – or those Puritanical parents you may be looking to bring to the movieplex this weekend.