SEVEN PSYCHOPATHS (Martin McDonagh, 2012)
In
SEVEN PSYCHOPATHS screenwriter Marty Faranan (Colin Farrell) is
struggling to come up with a script for a film of the same name. His
creative block might be related to the alcoholism that his friend Billy
Bickle (Sam Rockwell) suggests he has. Then again, Billy can’t exactly
be trusted completely. The temperamental aspiring actor is hellbent on
finding some way to collaborate with Marty on the screenplay. While
Billy is a good friend, he doesn’t make the wisest choices.
For
instance, Billy is involved in a dog abduction scheme with Hans
(Christopher Walken). Billy takes the adored pets, and Hans returns
them to the grateful owners for the reward money. It looks to be an
easy and risk-free method of lining their pockets until they take the
beloved Shih Tzu of organized crime boss Charlie (Woody Harrelson). He
doesn’t take kindly to news of his dog’s disappearance. Charlie and his
men don’t have to search long before they are chasing Billy, Hans, and a
guilty-by-association Marty.
As
a mash-up of ADAPTATION and ‘90s Tarantino-inspired films, SEVEN
PSYCHOPATHS is either too clever by half or not clever enough to fulfill
all of its ambitions. Like Charlie Kaufman, writer-director Martin
McDonagh loads the film over capacity with ideas and structural
complexities. McDonagh zigzags plenty, sometimes to the film’s
detriment, but he provides plenty to chew on among the ample laughs and
bloodshed.
On
one level the existential comedy is about the process of filmmaking.
On another it’s concerned with what makes a man a man and the social
expectations of how machismo is expressed. Ultimately SEVEN PSYCHOPATHS
is most interested in exploring the need for dreams, be they reflected
in the movies or offered through religious promises about an afterlife.
Is what we do in our lives meaningless or the basis for the potential
earning of some greater reward? Are we even in control of writing our
own life scripts, or is another screenwriter--the Almighty Creator, in
fact--determining how the narrative develops?
SEVEN
PSYCHOPATHS doesn’t knuckle down and decide how to answer everything
tossed out for consideration--how could it?--but even when it feels like
little more than intellectual, postmodern spitballing, it satisfies as
an exercise in storytelling. It helps that McDonagh employs a who’s who
of character actors to flesh out a rogue’s gallery worthy of living up
to the film’s title. As a foil to Farrell’s straight man, Rockwell is
amusingly unhinged as a wild card of a friend. Walken brings gravitas
and soul to an eccentric man who knows all too well the tension between
faith and despair in the face of the seemingly random. Harrelson is a
fearsome and humorous study in the film’s clash between violent and
loving impulses. Tom Waits and Harry Dean Stanton are plugged into the
lineup for good measure. SEVEN PSYCHOPATHS doesn’t reach the high bar
McDonagh sets for it, yet he distributes a good number of pleasures with
the film’s wit, contemplative offerings, and unpredictable nature.
Grade: B
No comments:
Post a Comment