Comic Book Movies: A History Of Violence

• 26th Feb 2011

In 2005 David Cronenberg, the master of subversive and gooey-body horror, turned his attention to John Wagner and Vince Locke’s graphic novel A History of Violence. After its release and during the subsequent passing of time, it’s matured to become that rarest of cinematic beasts: both an utterly gripping thriller which is both violent and haunting, while at the same time becoming better then the material it is originally based on.

Tom Stall (whose name’s been changed from Tom McKenna in the book) is a happy family man with his own business, played by Viggo Mortenson. But one night he stands up against two thieves, gunning them down as they attempt to rob his café. He becomes an overnight celebrity. But it’s not long before a group of gangsters recognise him as an ex-Mobster called Joey Cusack. Who is Tom? A mild-mannered family man and local hero, or a bloodthirsty ex-con with a price on his head?

Having only read the graphic novel once, I confess that I’m not a fan of it. While I enjoyed Wagner’s previous work on his Judge Dredd stories (for 2000AD) I felt that although A History of Violence is at times a good novel, the film (with Cronenberg’s expert eye cast over proceedings) completely elevates it above the original source material. Using artistic licence, Cronenberg crafts a film way better than the typical standard of the more common and fantastical comic book films.

Each actor gives a stellar performance however small or large their screen time is. Mortensen treads an infinitely fine line between doting husband and psychopathic nut job, usually only noticeable through nuanced glances or looks. Maria Bello and Ed Harris provide fantastic support as Tom’s wife Edie and Carl Fogarty, a gangster that Tom had previous dealings with. And William Hurt’s limited screen time as Richie Cusack (Tom/Joey’s older brother) shows how an actor can almost steal a whole film with a small part. His characterisation of Richie is theatrical, dramatic and multi-layered.

Admittedly, while different from its original source material (but then what adaptation is ever exactly the same?) this is still the very definition of a successful and effective screen adaptation, particularly in regards to a small independent publication. Even if Cronenberg did take artistic liberties with the source material, it’s quickly clear that the film is much better than the original novel. For example, the changing of Tom and Richie to brothers instead of childhood friends certainly provides more of an emotional resonance during the climax.

Every sequence seems to be engineered to be effectively creepy and as unequivocally strange as possible. Being Cronenberg’s first (and as of yet) only graphic novel adaptation, it’s utterly compelling and undeniably well made. This is very much an anti-comic-book film, although the tone is very much in the ‘graphic’ area with violence being the order of the day. Even after repeated viewings, this is still haunting cinema (comic-based or not) able to chill me to my very core, possibly more so than any of Cronenberg’s more fantastical works.

There are several standout moments which instantly come to mind whenever A History of Violence is mentioned. The first shoot-out between Tom and the thieves in his café (played by the always brilliant Stephen McHattie and Greg Bryk) is an expertly crafted lesson in how to underplay action within the film. The actual violence inflicted by Tom on the men is bloody and brutal (of the typical Cronenberg standard), which made me wince more than a few times. Other moments include the gun shot at point blank range in the café; Tom shoving a gangster’s nose into his skull in all its bloody glory; and lest I forget, Tom stamping on a gangster’s wind pipe. Subtle he might not be, but Tom certainly knows how to get the job done.

One moment does stand out more than others to me, particularly in a character sense. This is the scene where Tom/Joey sees that violence is present in his own family despite him having run away from it for years. He sees this when his son, without hesitation, kills Carl Fogarty. The look Tom gives him is a chilling glance of disgust and loathing, which then turns to relief. It also shows that Tom’s idealised slice of Americana has finally collapsed as violence has seeped through into his family life. Croneberg makes it clear that this is a type of metaphysical disease, developing quickly and then eating away at his second chance for a peaceful life.

Often it’s not the gun-related violence which is shown to be most overtly violent and nasty, but rather the everyday actions which happen around Tom. Some are so brutally visceral they make you flinch with discomfort. As the film goes on it becomes progressively more dark and twisted. A prime example of this would be Tom’s son finally standing up to the school bully by beating him senseless. Tom’s violent past seems to have been genetically imprinted on his offspring.

Then there’s the painful sex (I refuse to use the word ‘love’) scene where Tom and his wife have a heated and hateful shag on the wooden stairs. Cronenberg really makes it uncomfortable viewing and even now as I write this after countless viewings, I feel more than a little disturbed by its subversive effect. It’s as though Cronenberg’s saying “this is a comic book film for grown-ups. No spandex and tight-fitting costumes here”. The second sex scene is a prime example of why this is the most graphic of graphic novel interpretations. Not least because of the domestic violence angle (which is uncomfortable viewing regardless) but also the context within which it happens – an aggressive bout of heated loathing and bile-fuelled hatred. Above all, when compared to the gun violence, it’s in fact the most uncomfortably violent moment present within the film.

All of which this is held together by Howard Shore’s haunting score,  giving even more dramatic depth, as well as an almost melancholic state to the film’s tone. The end sequence where Tom is offered a place at his family dinner table is both heartbreaking and positive. Played completely without dialogue, it becomes the only moment within the film to show a glimmer of hope after all the acts of violence.

With A History of Violence, Cronenberg’s not only made an action film with lashings of violence, but has also achieved the impossible feat of freeing the graphic novel from its source material and making a movie without the hyper-realised stylistic aesthetic of a comic book. This is dark adult storytelling which only gets better with repeat viewings and is definitely up there as one of the best ever graphic novel based films.

Dominic O’Brien