We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011)

The observant amongst you will have twigged that yesterday’s livewithfilm post materialised in the early hours of this morning. Whilst the blunder was down to a late night cinema trip in the name of the blog (more on this later), there is little that frustrates livewithfilm more than a 00:01am posting… Nevertheless, in completing possibly the most downbeat afternoon/evening of viewing imaginable, livewithfilm will be able to tick off another first: Lynne Ramsay’s We Need to Talk About Kevin shall become the blog’s first cinema review. Whilst livewithfilm would always condone a filmic double bill, the combination of Ramsay’s teen killer romp with Hunger’s examination of starvation was hardly a barrel of laughs. Whilst the pair are both interesting and powerful pieces of cinema, their consecutive viewings felt akin to self flagellation. Despondency and gloom encircled livewithfilm on his bike ride home last night. The only concession was that last time he checked, livewithfilm was neither an Irish prisoner on a hunger strike or the parent of a psychopath. Every cloud…

Based on the acclaimed book by Lionel Shriver, Ramsay’s We Need to Talk About Kevin is guided by Eva (Tilda Swinton), the mother of a high school killer. Enduring physical and verbal assaults from her neighbours, Eva must confront the violent actions of her son Kevin (Ezra Miller). Contending with the idea that it was her failure as a parent that led to his killing spree, Eva sifts through her memories of Kevin’s childhood, unearthing shocking recollections.

Ramsay’s film is master class in non-chronological filmmaking, relinquishing glimpses of information to the audience that ensure an unsettling mood. Whilst Eva is in complete control of the film, she is trapped within the ramifications of Kevin’s act. This is an interesting angle for the film to take as it remains a consistently subjective piece, relying on the mutable memories of the distraught mother. Thus the scenes of Kevin’s childhood seem to envision Eva’s psychological downfall rather than the transformation of her child into a killer. We Need to Talk About Kevin consequently holds a catalogue of carefully placed and skilfully recurrent symbols. Shades of red echo through the film and unite Eva’s early globetrotting life with her son’s bloody acts of violence. The film is therefore unrelentingly ominous, clouding Eva’s memories as every act points towards the final shocking sequence.

Ramsay’s film is deeply horrific, achieving a pervasive dread through its consistent proximity with plausibility. Swinton carries the film with her brooding unease, filling Eva with a frail tenacity. Never overtly dramatic, We Need to Talk About Kevin adeptly mixes the psychological world with a haunting image of suburban life. Taking a swipe at the bourgeois lifestyle of the American rich, the film spawns an image of violence from the same careless affluence that instigates Eva’s disquiet. An impressive piece of cinema that will surely besiege the Oscars come spring next year, livewithfilm urges audiences to witness this enthralling piece of British filmmaking.

Livewithfilm must announce an intermission in blogging. Whilst unable to write for the next week, Livewithfilm urges readers to comment and discuss its opinions and film choices.

Hunger (2008)

It is a testament of the power of Steve McQueen’s directorial debut that livewithfilm is for the first timed stunned into silence. Having just finished Hunger, the relative frivolity of earlier livewithfilm posts seem ill placed. It is an undoubtedly raw and powerful film; a portrayal of the human experience, an evocation of rebellion and suffering. Never an easy watch, Hunger nevertheless seems a vital piece of filmmaking.

McQueen’s film focuses upon the IRA hunger strikes of 1981, charting the protests of the Irish Republican prisoners who fought to be granted political status by the British government. Davey (Brian Milligan), a detained member of the IRA, arrives at Maze prison and declares his resistance to the regime by taking part in blanket and dirty protests. Shown with uncompromising savagery, the prisoners are relentlessly subjected to horrific acts of brutality from guards and riot police. The latter stages of Hunger change focus, remaining with Irish Republican activist Bobby Sands (Michael Fassbender). Sands ultimately leads the prisoners in a hunger strike, starving his body in a last ditch attempt to increase awareness of their plight.

That livewithfilm slightly struggled to recount a summary of Hunger seems significant. Whilst the plot is undeniably emotive, the stories and incidents portrayed within the film hold even greater force. McQueen skilfully constructs Hunger so that the vast weight of political context never infringes upon or restricts the humanity of his protagonists. In a similar manner to yesterday’s Sunshine, a vision of the mutability of human existence in the face of a significant event is seen in Hunger. Images of human suffering stay long in the memory: maggots crawling from a clenched fist, a lone prisoner seeking companionship from a wandering fly. Fassbender’s introduction as Sands is effectively gruelling, envisioning a character fabricated from prejudice and violence. The final sequence chronicling Sands’ hunger strike is consistently haunting and Fassbender’s commitment to the role is staggering, his body withered and sinuous.

Yet within this brutal vision, McQueen is able to construct beautiful and moving set pieces. Sands’ repartee with a visiting priest (Liam Cunningham) is a highlight of the film, a lengthy single take that is at once witty and melancholic. Their discussion of the morality of Sands’ hunger strike extends far beyond the walls of Maze prison and gently ushers in the distressing final act. For the most harrowing aspects of Hunger are those most honest. McQueen’s piece is invasive and fearless, a vision of human sacrifice and desperation that is unequalled.