It was Halloween eve, and rather than face gaggles of Trick or Treaters knocking at our door, we opted instead for some cinematic escapism. Or, more baldly, horrors of a different kind. Lionel Shriver's award winning novel 'We Need to Talk About Kevin' left an indelible impression on me when I read it a few years ago: I remember feeling totally drained upon finishing it. Told from the perspective of narrator Eva, the novel recounts events before and after her teenage son commits a high school massacre. Eva is that most intriguing of storytellers, an unreliable narrator, and the novel raises interesting questions about her responsibility for her son's actions, whether evil is innate or learned, and - more widely - social norms regarding motherhood. On the latter point, I found it interesting to analyse my own shifting responses to Eva as the narrative progressed - the novel is so decidedly ambivalent that it will forever stimulate debate.
Well written, with vividly drawn characters, it is a fearless director who takes on such weighty material. I'm pleased to say that director Lynn Ramsey has done a sterling job with this disturbing and compelling adaptation - a job which has won the praise of Shriver herself (see her recent Guardian article). Ramsey respectfully includes many key scenes, and I think it is to the movie's credit that we never see the full extent of Kevin's attacks at the school. With only one exception, the casting is superb. Tilda Swinton is tremendous in the role of Eva, eliciting both pity and disapproval as a former high flier uncomfortable with motherhood; Ezra Miller is an inscrutable Kevin, giving one of the creepiest performances I've ever seen. They are exactly as I'd imagined their characters, and though the source material could risk a melodramatic cinematic treatment, both manage to ground the story in a reality disturbingly close to that of the audience. Ramsey plays on their almost androgynous physical similarities to reinforce the perverse connection between mother and son, through visual flourishes and clever camera work matched by her decision to play with the natural chronology of events, flipping between a wine-guzzling, dead-eyed Eva's memories and present day reality. In doing this, our own perceptions of Eva as victim and catalyst for Kevin's crime become increasingly confused, making for a sophisticated presentation of the age-old nature/nurture debate. Is Eva a victim of Kevin, as much as he is a victim of her? I couldn't help thinking of Mary Shelley's own famous analogy of maternity as I watched Eva face the abuse of those who had suffered at the hands of her son, whilst reliving the memories of her own losses.
It's a shame then, that the weak link in the chain comes in the form of character actor John C. Reilly, an actor I am deeply fond of. As Eva's husband Franklin, he portrays a man desperately clinging onto an ideal of family life, apparently unable to digest the warning signs displayed by his son. Unfortunately though, in Reilly's hands his treatment of Franklin's denial comes across as chumpish; he seems to have wandered in from the set of a stoner comedy and lacks the complexity needed to make his character believable. The likes of Aaron Eckhart or Philip Seymour Hoffman would have been far more convincing as a partner for our uncompromising lead. This certainly doesn't lessen the impact of the movie though - even though I knew what was coming, Ramsey ekes every last drop of suspense from the tale to devastating effect. An arresting opening scene paves the way for food-based symbolism which even at its most mundane, is alive with portent: Kevin gnawing at a cooked chicken, slathering jam on sandwiches, or tearing at a piece of bread in a restuarant. All of these otherwise innocuous moments add up to a growing sense of terror, placed as they are within a cunning temporal structure.
Ramsey has done a fine job with challenging material, raising important and often uncomfortable questions about feminism and motherhood. Why do we blame Eva for her son's crime, when her husband is so clearly in denial about his son's problems? His blind optimism could be read by feminists as a cultural legacy of nineteenth century attitudes to women and the 'wandering womb' complex - a hangover which undermines female self expression to dangerous effect. That this is a mother's story only reinforces this idea. Also interesting is the issue of mothers failing to bond with their babies: when Eva ironically coos at an unresponsive baby Kevin that she was happier before he was born, we are shocked. But it's an interesting scene and one which I feel Ramsey was brave for using - what happens when a mother doesn't like her child? Is this a deep-rooted fear which rather than address, we choose to cower behind shock? These aren't questions for this blog, as I know I'm moving further away from sharing my thoughts about the film, but they are certainly worth considering.
I would imagine that this film will speak strongly to all women, and look forward to discussing it more in the future. It's not a movie which one can discuss or form a response to straight away - never have I felt such a tangible silence in an audience than after this movie - but as with the novel, it leaves a legacy of profound discomfort and questioning which extends far beyond the world of movie making.
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