“Wanna fight?”
The H-Bomb: Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive was one hell of a great film. Easily one of the very best of 2011, and it will in all likelihood end up somewhere on my list of favorite films of the decade. With its striking visual style, its potent violence, its kick ass soundtrack, and, most of all, its understated-but-arresting lead performance by Ryan Gosling, it was the epitome of cinematic cool. When I heard that Refn and Gosling were re-teaming for Only God Forgives, I was stoked. They did such a phenomenal job with Drive, I just couldn’t wait to see how they followed it up.
Then the film premiered at Cannes this past Spring, and I got nervous… very nervous. With people labeling it pretentious, claiming it’s all style no substance, a cinematic jerk off session, it was booed out of the festival, and when it came to select theaters over here a couple of weeks ago, the Stateside critics weren’t any kinder. So, hoping for the best, but fearing the worst, I sat down to check out Only God Forgives via On Demand (since no theater within a hundred miles of me is playing it), and you know what… I fucking loved it! Screw those clowns on the Croisette, they must have had a giant baguette jammed up their collective asses, because as far as I’m concerned, this is a near masterpiece.
Of course, I’m only jesting about the whole baguette thing. I can get why many would be put off with a film like Only God Forgives, why they would call it boring, indulgent hogwash and dismiss it so quickly, I completely understand… I just don’t agree. One thing I should say right up front, while Only God Forgives is technically a crime picture, it is not a sequel to Drive. Nor is it really anything like Drive, it is entirely its own beast.
It does have a similar kind of minimalism that Drive had, only this time, Refn takes it even further, as there’s probably less than ten minutes worth of spoken dialogue in the entire 90 minute movie. The story itself is also quite simple: Julian (Gosling) is an American running a drug smuggling ring with his brother, Billy (Tom Burke), in Bangkok, Thailand. Billy, as it happens, is a pretty messed up individual, a fact that is made apparent when he rapes and murders a sixteen-year-old prostitute. The girl’s father then beats Billy to death with a bat, a revenge killing that is facilitated by Chang (Vithaya Pansringarm), a Bangkok police captain and avid karaoke singer who is handy with a machete.
Billy’s death brings the boys’ mother, Crystal (Kristin Scott Thomas), to town. A mean matriarch with a short temper, she does not respond well when she finds out that Julian has failed (or more accurately, refused) to avenge his brother’s murder. Upon being told that Billy raped and killed a young girl, mama Crystal simply shrugs and says, “I’m sure he had his reasons,” before taking matters into her own hands by ordering a hit on the girl’s father, as well as Chang. What Crystal doesn’t realize, is that even though Chang doesn’t look that imposing, he is a cop who should never be crossed. This puts Julian, as the dutiful son, in the position of having to take Chang out before he and his machete can get to his mother.
Maybe I was wrong earlier, when I stated that Only God Forgives is nothing like Drive. It is, like its predecessor, a film about cold, violent people set in a cold, violent world. Except this world is considerably colder than the one depicted in Drive, without the romantic element to help us warm up to Gosling’s distant protagonist. Instead of exchanging sweet looks with Carey Mulligan, he watches as a hooker masturbates in front of him. That’s about as romantic as he gets, this time around.
And if we thought Gosling’s Driver was the quiet type, he was a regular motor mouth next to Julian, who has maybe a dozen lines in the entire film. It’s been asserted that Julian is a non-character, but I beg to differ. While Gosling once again says next to nothing, I felt he conveyed that there was quite a bit going on with Julian underneath the surface, like the simmering hatred and resentment he feels towards his mother, who never fails to remind him that he is her second favorite after Billy… and that his cock was always smaller than Billy’s, as well… don’t ask.
As for Scott Thomas, she’s the only one who’s given an opportunity to chew scenery, which she does marvelously. She embodies this icy, manipulative, and truly detestable bitch flawlessly, giving the film the kind of villainess that we really want to see bad things happen to. She also has the very best line in the film, delivered when she’s having dinner with Julian and his hooker girlfriend… you’ll know it when you hear it. Long and short, Scott Thomas is splendidly nasty in this role, and dare I say her turn is Oscar worthy.
My favorite performance, however, has got to be Pansringarm’s as Chang, the cop who is more brutal than criminals he pursues. He’s even more low key and less emotive than Gosling, but when this midget ninja pulls his blade and goes to work, he is downright terrifying. And his climatic fist fight with Julian… not to spoil anything, but did you notice how fucked up Gosling’s face was on the posters? How do you think it got that way? Pansringarm is like a coiled snake here, playing the quietly intense act beautifully, and I loved him.
Though the lead performances are subtle and first rate, the real star of Only God Forgives is director Refn himself. Working from his own screenplay this time, he has truly crafted a film of savage beauty. Every shot in the movie could be put in a frame and displayed in an art gallery, they are that meticulously composed and that gorgeously lit. For the film’s detractors, it’s all way too self-consciously stylized. For me, however, the very deliberate look, particularly the lighting, worked well in setting the heightened, noir-ish tone Refn was going for.
In fact, just about everything in Only God Forgives worked well for me, from the brutal, stomach churning violence, to the evocative score by Cliff Martinez that would often completely over take the soundtrack. It’s not quite as successful as Drive, but it’s not the horrendous failure that others in the film critiquing community have claimed it to be. It’s a mood piece that’s as unsettling as it is beautiful. It’s a true work of art, made by a true auteur.
