Only God Forgives (2013, Nicolas Winding Refn)

Following up 2011's Drive was always going to be a tough call given its instant resonance with audiences. And why was that neon-lit cult classic so smoothly accepted into the pop cultural stratosphere? Of course it was a vehicle for Ryan Gosling who as a current sensation with an eager following could only financially bless a project with his presence. Then there was the nature of the film itself; a narrative filled with recycled archtypes in both character and motive. Clear cut divisions of good verses evil, and a seductive retro cool soundtrack coupled with an almost pornographic visual sense. It was a film that demanded to be adored and won. A film that gave audiences a story that delivered tropes they'd witnessed a hundred times over but gift wrapped seamlessly to be embraced by the zeitgeist. It was an easy pill to swallow and it tasted good to so many.

Director Nicolas Winding Refn has always been one to sidestep success; despite his most accepted films hardly fitting commercial criteria, after the runaway success of Drive he's taken the gained momentum and pushed it over a cliff side once again. Whether that being over into an unbridled artistic nirvana, or experimental suicide will depend entirely on the person watching, their cinematic palette, and their patience with Refn's artistry. No film seemed to divide opinion at this year's Cannes Film Festival quite like Only God Forgives, evoking passionate responses from either side of the fence. What more could you ask for in a film? Well...

The film tells the story of brothers Billy and Julian who reside in Bangkok and use a boxing club as a front for their drug running operation. When the satanic Billy brutally murders a prostitute and is then himself 'murdered' by a Thai police chief, the boys' mother comes into the mix to order weaker brother, Jules (Ryan Gosling), to avenge his fallen sibling.

Focussing on atmosphere and offering little by way of narrative, Refn's latest falls next to his other mood pieces Fear X and Valhalla Rising while marking the most violent of the three. The characters operate as archetypal figures in a sad and desperate tale of grotesque retribution; reportedly Refn directed Vithaya Pansringarm (the Thai police chief pitted against the avenging Jules) by whispering "you are God" into his ear between takes. If this is indeed the case then he must have whispered "Bitch" into the ear of a scenery chewing Kristin Scott Thomas, the Tyrannical Oedipus Rex of the piece, whose motherly presence has son Jules descend into a state of insecure delusion.

Many critics have had their reservations about the recent work of Ryan Gosling, who after the earlier more intricate work of Half Nelson and Lars and the Real Girl has fallen into the cult trappings of being idolised by his director's camera as of late. Though there is some truth to this and Refn himself may have started it, the casting of Gosling here is an inspired piece that challenges the notions of his screen persona. Jules is weak, insecure, cowardly at times, and desperately jealous. He can barely talk to women and mistreats them when he tries. His voice breaks in one scene as he screams at a girl who gives him the cold shoulder. Accusations that the star and/or his director are recycling aspects of their last outing or sorely misjudged here.

Other accusations, however, fall on Refn's continued and intensified approach to visual storytelling; The great Dane has long since entered the realm of 'pure' cinema in which the visuals and soundtrack do the talking, as it were. His astute visual sense has certainly developed over time and the focus on mood has shifted to the forefront, Only God Forgives is full of vivd images that evoke the flustered sweat-drenched flurry of a fever dream. Cliff Martinez's pulsating score is also an assault on the senses and forms a perfect partnership with the film's demonic exploitation.

Despite some definite advancement in Refn's artistry, I still remain bafflingly unconvinced by a director who clearly harbours serious talent. He arguably works better with other people's contributions to scripts (Bronson, Drive) and his earlier, grittier work of his Pusher trilogy had a certain urgency that is sorely lacking here. His films of late offer a nihilistic nightmarish worldview of violence and depravity. Sure, Only God Forgives grabs you by the collar and shakes you senseless, contains exceptional framing/cinematography, but like most bad dreams they end up easily repressed and never arise in conversation around the dinner table.

Perhaps I still need to wait for Nicolas Winding Refn to truly come into his own, or then again, maybe he just doesn't make films for me.

Bronson (Nicolas Winding Refn, 2008)

At one point during Bronson, Michael Peterson returns to his homeland of Luton after a long stint in prison. He's asked why he's returning by a fellow train passenger - he replies, "to make a name for myself". Michael Peterson (played by Tom Hardy in a career making performance) was and still is Britain's most violent prisoner and during the examples on show here of Peterson's undiluted animalistic outbursts, you'd expect this violent beast of a man to be a serial killer. In 1974 he was arrested and sentenced to seven years in prison for a post office robbery, he got away with small change and no one was especially injured. Since Peterson's institutionalisation he has been moved 120 times while still a convict and to this day remains inside due to the years added to his sentence for his attacks on other convicts and prison staff. Now a legend of sorts and known as Charles Bronson (a pseudonym and alter-ego created by Peterson) he has well and truly made a name for himself, but at what cost and why?


Bronson is the perfect play mate with Andrew Dominik's excellent Chopper (2000); both films investigate the modern celebrity exposed from their real life subjects and show the dark side to masculinity in crisis. They both share similarities beyond the two incredible central performances on display and obviously come from the same place, however in Nicolas Winding Refn's hands Bronson becomes a entirely different animal, taking the viewer to the most unexpected places. The film is a surprisingly surreal and abstract experience, as Bronson explains and narrates events to a blank staring audience whilst dressed as what can only be described as vaudevillian performer. He looks closer to a supporting player from BBC's The League of Gentlemen than Britain's most violent criminal, but in this attire Winding is highlighting what Bronson really is, a performer.

The central theme to Winding's film is of a lost masculinity, a man without a place in the world, without footing. What can a man of limited intelligence and talent do to give his life meaning? Bronson options for violence, one thing he's genuinely good at; in his incarceration he has more control over his environment than when he's freed, he's happy with being institutionalised. He turns his violent acts into artistic set pieces, each one a new canvas to paint with fresh carnage. In one standout and frankly hilarious scene, Bronson kidnaps the prison librarian in a pathetic attempt to create trouble. While shouting at the librarian more than needs be and perversely forcing him to lube his naked body up for battle, we can only look on in disbelief and hold our mouths laughing, this should be disturbingly awful but Hardy is a joyous riot from start to finish. His masterpiece comes much later as once again he's kidnapped another staff member, this time his art teacher, who has up until now showed nothing but confidence in Bronson's artistic talents. He's proved himself a rather gifted illustrator, however he chooses to express himself artistically in other more drastic measures. Again this scene is unnerving, shocking, surreal, and violent.


Tom Hardy does I fine job in giving Bronson a delicate quality in certain scenes, adding rare glimpses of sensitivity that make him endearing if only for a moment. When returning to live with his parents and realising his belongings including his bed have been sold, are met with a childlike disappointment. Only moments after being let down by a woman he apparently loves, he sheds a tear then sets out to prove his love by bringing her a wedding ring - his violent outburst and domination of a jewellery store is again extreme in nature and counter balances the strange affection we have for him. Perhaps we feel for him because Michael Peterson is such a tragic and pathetic soul, and inside his cruel brutal exterior we see hints at a softer side locked away, just as he is.

Hardy's performance is one to marvel, full of such confidence and conviction it outweighs any of Bronson's misgivings. Nicolas Winding Refn is filmmaker who holds as much fearless creativity as he does talent, a gift that can sometimes deliver mixed results though always interesting ones. His many brave and drastic decisions don't always work here but can be forgiven as he's created a uniquely baffling film that could easily have been a run of the mill biographical piece if it weren't for his daring. Bronson is often criticised for not being willing to delve into Peterson's character, this isn't the film's aim, this isn't a study of one man per-se but rather about masculinity in existential crux, using Peterson as an essential jumping-off point. Bronson uses his violence as his artistic means for expression in a world he cannot understand or control,  and as a piece of art this film deserves to be held up in high regard.


For fans of: A Clockwork Orange (1971), Raging Bull (1980), The King of Comedy (1983), Chopper (2000)

Drive (Nicolas Winding Refn, 2011)

Drive stars Ryan Gosling as a stuntman who moonlights as a getaway driver, his rule; when you hire him you have him for 5 minutes, anything that happens on either side of that 5 minutes isn't his problem and if you're not their in time you're on your own. This is explained in the opening dialogue as Gosling speaks to a client on his mobile finishing with "you won't be able to contact me on this phone again". Gosling as the unnamed protagonist (he's credited as Driver) picks up two crooks knocking off a warehouse and plays cat and mouse with the cops, the heist is a success and the driver never says a word or breaks a sweat. Already we are aware that our protagonist is rather good at what he does to say the least.

The Driver is a quiet man, a modest and almost passive person who seems impenetrable to fear. He drives stunt cars during the day and also works in a garage, his boss sees promise in his driving skills and borrows money off some gangster associates to get their racing dreams rolling. All seems well in the beginning and all seems well when we meet Irene (Carey Mulligan) a neighbour to Driver who he instantly takes a liking to, Irene's husband is in prison for an offence we never learn and until the point of his release Driver becomes the new father figure to Irene and her son. When the husband is released the family unit is restored and Driver backs off like a gentlemen and never seems hurt or jealous, at this point Driver (aside from being nearly mute) seems damn near perfect.

The film's equilibrium is disrupted when the husband (his street name is Standard) is beaten up and blackmailed for the depts he owes from prison, Standard is genuinely not interested in crime anymore and only in his family which is the problem as its them that will suffer if he doesn't pay up pronto. Standard agrees to do a heist that will wipe his slate clean with the help of Driver who agreed to assist after seeing Standard beaten in a pool of hi own blood and hearing his woes. Both men are on the same page, Irene and the kid must remain safe. This is the point when things get nasty and the film becomes seemingly more violent as the body count starts to mount up.

Drive is reminiscent of the George Clooney thriller The American, a heavily existential film that meditates on good and evil and a film full of archetypal characters. Drive is exactly the same on this level despite being a different kettle of fish; Drive is full of archetypal characters, director Nicolas Winding Refn has commented on the story as being a fairy tale situation and one can see where he's coming from; Driver is the Knight in shining armour, Irene is the Damsel/Princess and Albert Brooks and Ron Perlman as the gangsters are the Evil King and The Dragon. Both Drive and The American also feature lead characters that are both isolated individuals, both are precision experts at what they do but it is when they let people they care about into their lives that things start to go wrong and their professional and personal lives collide for dire consequences. The isolation of our leading man Driver is highlighted in the constant Aeriel shots of L.A. that would be right at home in Michael Mann's Heat or Collateral, the difference here however is that although being reminded of the scope of the city in which our characters dwell they might as well be the only ones in it. Drive's L.A. is a vacuous city scape that goes against the noirish tradition of a congested concrete jungle with dangers at every turn i.e. Blade Runner.

Again like The American, Drive is a film full of tried and tested genre conventions that seem to aid it rather than bury it. This is a fine line that films can tread only being saved by those involved being informed of their film's ancestry and approaching it with passion. Driver as a lead character has no back story to speak of, it is up to us the viewer to fill this in and to realise that Gosling's character is the grandson of Clint Eastwood's and Steve McQueen's character's mystique; Driver is closest to McQueen in The Getaway and Eastwood in The Dollars Trilogy, chewing on a tooth pick looking for iconic status. Maybe Driver is just as conscious of these films as we are.

Drive won Nicolas Winding Refn best director at the Cannes film festival earlier this year, an odd winner when you realise just how high this film is on the exploitation spectrum rather than the art house. The film is a treat to look at thanks to Refn's ever evolving eye but despite the inventive shots and beautiful lighting this picture is an exploitation film through and through, and so what? With Refn honing this project (Gosling was on board first and wanted Refn to direct over anyone else) it was bound to be one soaked in bloodshed, this review cannot end without discussing the extensive violence that won't kindly leave you when the film is through. Bones are broken, heads are caved in, and cutlery is forced into squeamish places, Drive is not for the easily shocked. Gosling's character is an angel, he is almost too good for this world as a selfless and caring man who wants nothing for himself and everything for his loved ones, Driver can also inflict the most brutal violence onto those who threaten to destroy his loved ones. Driver is everything he needs to be in a moment and as the 80s soundtrack repeats over the film the lyrics hint over and over that Driver might be a "perfect human being".

Verdict:

This could be the film that Gosling is remembered for and with a bit of help and time could enter cult status. You can instantly see why Gosling's performance has been so hyped up despite being minimalistic and subdued, this is a great example of less is more. The supporting cast are superb but nothing can take eyes off the leading man. Director Nicolas (Bronson) Refn once again shows how he is developing as a artist while remaining comfortably still in the crime genre. A beautifully shot film with sudden bursts of unforgettable violence about a man who works as a stunt man doing all the things a 'hero' should be doing while becoming a real hero in his own time. In short; you've seen it all before and you might figure out where it's all leading up to but you've never seen it like this!

For fans of: Le Samourai (1967), Vanishing Point (1971), Taxi Driver (1976), Thief (1981), The Pusher Trilogy (1996-2005), The American (2010)