Starring: Colin Farrell, Sam Rockwell, Christopher Walken, Woody Harrelson, Tom Waits, Željko Ivanek, Abbie Cornish, Linda Bright Clay, Olga Kurylenko
Directed by: Martin McDonagh
Written by: Martin McDonagh
As a film buff, I'd like to think that I have a heavy appreciation for all kinds of cinema, but if you held a gun to my head and asked me what my favorite kind of genre I preferred above all others, I would probably have to go with the pitch-black dark comedies: films that possess material that would be otherwise grim, and yet are trivialized and made as a source of deadpan and even sick humor.
And while some may find such a concept to be in poor taste (although that's kinda part of the whole point), I've always enjoyed the genre because it unlocks a dark, uncomfortable area in the viewer's psyche, where such gallows humor provokes contemplation on serious issues or themes. It tests and pushes the envelope of the viewer's mind, and sees how long they can last in both hysterics and discomfort at the same time.
It's a fascinating subject that I've personally enjoyed consuming and studying for a long time. A recent example would be the terrific 2008 crime comedy In Bruges, helmed by director Martin McDonagh. Deliciously sharp-witted yet deeply vulnerable and human, the film-- in my opinion-- helped set the bar for black comedies in terms of craft and respectability (the screenplay received a Best Original Screenplay Oscar nod, a rarity for comedies). Luckily, that bar was met (and maybe surpassed) by McDonagh's latest, the brilliantly funny and gleefully unpredictable Seven Psychopaths.
Marty Faranan (Colin Farrell) is a Hollywood screenwriter currently past his deadline for his latest script. Despite having a title ("Seven Psychopaths"), Marty is suffering from a serious case of writer's block. It doesn't help that he has a strained relationship with his live-in girlfriend Kaya (Abbie Cornish), that he has quite the drinking problem, or that his best friend Billy Bickle (Sam Rockwell) puts out an unasked-for advertisement for serial killers to give Marty script advice.
Billy, meanwhile, is an unemployed actor and con artist who makes a living with his pacifist friend Hans (Christopher Walken) kidnapping dogs and then returning them for the reward money. However, Billy and Hans encounter a huge problem when they unwittingly steal the prized shih tzu of psychotic mobster Charlie Costello (Woody Harrelson). Eventually, Costello discovers who stole his precious pooch, and soon Billy and Hans are on the run, sucking Marty into the mess along the way.
As the three men-- shih tzu in tow-- evade the trigger-happy Costello and his lieutenant Paulo (Željko Ivanek), they must also deal with a notorious masked serial killer known as the Jack of Diamonds, a mysterious rabbit-fixated gentleman (Tom Waits), and revelations of certain characters' pasts.
Probably one of the best things about Seven Psychopaths is how unapologetically meta-referential it is. It is, essentially, a screenplay about screenwriting, with the ever-dashing Farrell standing in for McDonagh himself. Serving as the straight man to the extreme dark-comic foils of his co-stars, Farrell serves as the main character in his own personal life-cum-film that seems creepily similar to the very script he writes along the way. There are plenty of biting jokes at filmmaking's expense (my favorite is the comment that women are either killed or used sparingly in action flicks, and yet the animals involved always live), cliches that come to life in ridiculously funny fantasy sequences, and pretty much any kind of Adaptation-esque cinematic deconstruction that you can think of.
The cast, by and large, is absolutely marvelous. Farrell gives an exasperated performance that clashes beautifully with the devilishly sardonic and increasingly bizarre actions of the wonderful and reliably funny Rockwell. Christopher Walken? I mean, it's fucking Christopher Walken. More subdued but still his usual certifiably insane self, Walken steals the entire show. His line delivery and trademark eccentricities are the stuff of legend, and here he manages to inject a dimension into his character that straddles Zen peacefulness and severe anguish.
Harrelson is hysterical as the batshit-crazy gangster whose near-maternal devotion to his dog is the only thing remotely human about him, and there are plenty of unexpected cameos sprinkled throughout (including an extended bit with the great Tom Waits).
Although it's incredibly funny and satirical to its core (Rockwell's unraveling of a Gandhi quote being a highlight), Seven Psychopaths is also brutally violent and isn't shy about saying so, with a lot of the violence coming straight out of nowhere (and, again, adding to the sick laughs department by tying the carnage to mundane situations). The musings on the human condition and the fine line between serenity and revenge seems rather Tarantinoesque at times, especially with the pop-savvy trappings of the dialogue, but McDonagh manages to make the film his own.
Clearly, to McDonagh, everyone in this world is psychotic in their own little ways, and the blur between realities in-film serves as an effective mirror to the debate regarding art vs. reality and whether or not inspiration comes from the former, the latter, or even both at the same time.
Not as deep or emotionally devastating as In Bruges but every bit of hilarious and then some, Seven Psychopaths is a start-to-finish exercise is brilliant casting and deranged humor.
Letter Grade: "A"
