A romance of violence

When Viggo Mortensen’s character, Tom Stall, first appears in David Cronenberg’s A History of Violence, he pauses near the door to the diner where he works and picks up some litter. A casual detail — blink, and you’ve missed it — yet it resonates with the film’s opening image. A young man leaves a dumpy motel room and pauses to straighten the rusted-out chair which sits beside the door. Moments later, he commits an unthinkable crime, something which even to this day is nearly taboo for Hollywood.

Thus, when Tom Stall picks up that soda can, we’re left to wonder: was the opening a flashback? Is our hero that very same creep?

A few uncomfortable moments pass, during which Tom bonds with his wife, Edie (Maria Bello), his teenage son, Jack, and his itty bitty daughter, Sarah. Sarah has a nightmare; there were monsters in her room. Tom reassures his daughter. There are no such things as monsters.

Soon, Cronenberg lets us off the hook. That creep from Scene 1 isn’t a young Tom Stall after all. He and his equally loathesome partner arrive in Tom’s diner, act tough, get nasty, and have their asses handed back to them by Aragorn. (Sorry. Tom.) And now Tom’s a national hero.

Nothing happens by accident in a Cronenberg movie. Is this Cronenberg’s way of cluing us in that Tom isn’t what we think he is? A History of Violence is (as anyone who has seen the trailer knows) about mistaken identity. But who is making the mistake — the hoodlum who comes looking for Tom (Carl Fogarty, played with chilling sliminess by Ed Harris), or Tom’s family? Who is Tom, really?

***

Are there monsters? How can we really know another individual? Yeah, these are the movie’s minor questions. It would be easy to think these were the only questions, but that would ignore the complex dynamics between Tom and Edie, and between Tom and his son.

Suffice to say, this family is mightily conflicted on the merits of violence. What Tom, Edie, and Jack say, and what they do, could not be farther apart. And what Tom and Edie do on the stairs . . .

Ahem. No spoilers.

We’re supposed to love Tom regardless of his past (or present) actions. We’re supposed to recoil at his use of violence, yet embrace him for protecting his family. But do we loathe his use of violence? These are the most beautiful scenes in the movie. You can almost hear Cronenberg snickering in the background: You know you dig it.

Violence is cool. Violence is the American Way. Violence is righteous, blessed by our Old Testament God. Violence is our right. Oh, we love our violence. We really do.

As long as we are not its victim.

I wonder if that’s why so many reviewers are shying away from V for Vendetta. England is our ally, after all, even if V presents us with a twisted, fascistic, alternate universe England. Damn, baby, that’s still Parliament! The destruction of a recognized symbol is a kick in the nuts. It’s one thing if the apes do it to the Statue of Liberty, or, as in Independence Day, the aliens do it to the White House. You’re supposed to despise the aliens, supposed to hate those damned dirty apes. But it’s quite another thing if the film’s hero — and its most eloquent voice — is the doer.

Somehow, it cheers me, the idea of moviegoers across the nation watching those last scenes of V for Vendetta, grinding their molars because they cannot handle the ambiguity of it all. Is V a hero or a terrorist? And the people who emulate V, should we feel elated by their uprising, or threatened? After all, 230 years ago we rose up against an oppressive English regime, too. Not long after, we were delighted to see the French overthrow their monarchy. Revolution used to be a good thing.

But V touches on the present, not the distant past. The world of V strikes a little too close to home, and that’s what frightens people. It wouldn’t frighten them if there weren’t some truth to it. V for Vendetta wouldn’t speak to us if we didn’t recognize ourselves in Evey, and in the cowed citizens of Evey’s England.

D.

*I hope you’re reading this, Karen.

Walnut, March 21, 2006. Category: At the movies.

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