How can we fairly review this thoroughly eccentric crime thriller? Just describing its tone constitutes a spoiler.
First, spin the approach. When writing his memoirs, the cinematically conservative Frank Capra blamed the (perceived) lack of success of his wholesome family films on a deplorable new wave of violent crime pix. The cinematically conservative Charlie Chaplin voiced his dismay at movies about amoral criminals with a wickedly funny parody trailer in his feature A King in New York. The fictitious movie being promoted? “The Killer with a Heart.” We suppose we’re showing our age with those comparisons — we’re told that much of the audience for this 2008’s In Bruges attended because the cast list includes popular actors that appear in Harry Potter films.
For us the appeal of movies about the inner lives of snipers and hit men has taken a steep nosedive, owing to the level of gun violence in the culture. We of course acknowledge that plenty of good examples exist, such as George Armitage’s Grosse Pointe Blank. In Bruges gets off to a slow start but soon picked up traction — yes, we felt manipulated into liking the characters, but the actors connect well. We’re told that an influence on writer-director Martin McDonagh were the dramas of Harold Pinter. Some of the dialogue takes on similar circular patterns, and a symbolic framework alludes to Catholic notions of penitence, purgatory and hell.
But we don’t sense a show-off writer — the characters generate honest warmth and wit. It’s not at all difficult to get into the personal problems of this pair of ‘everyday’ murderers. They’re a funny pair that swear a blue streak, in line with their shared roughneck Irish upbringing. The movie has an inordinate amount of profanity yet it doesn’t strike us as all that offensive.
No spoilers here, no way. After completing a job, Irish contract killers Ken and Ray (Brendan Gleeson and Colin Farrell) obey orders from their crime boss Harry (Ralph Fiennes) to hie themselves to Bruges, Belgium. Ken is the pro and the job was Ken’s first time out, and things didn’t go as they should. But Ray isn’t having a good time, as Bruges is a place with little to do beyond tour medieval streets, canals and churches. Their rough manners and constant profanity aren’t a plus. They interact with various locals — innkeeper Marie (Thekla Reuten), movie set hanger-on Chloe (Clémence Poésy), and various Americans and Canadians that bring out Ray’s belligerent streak. Harry finally calls from London to tell Ken what he really wants done in Bruges . . . and the stage is set for a series of intense confrontations.
In Bruges plays like a semi-absurd holiday for killers. Working stiffs Ken and Ray must make a living. Ken excuses himself with the idea that he mostly killed bad people. But if Harry tells them to kill a priest, that’s what they must do. Moral argument don’t really come into it.
Viewers expecting standard thriller action may not find In Bruges all that appealing. For the first half hour we may think we’re watching The Odd Couple, with a Felix and Oscar that kill people for a living. The two men bicker so loudly that we wonder why the Belgian police don’t arrest them for public indecency. Ray has a chip on his shoulder. He picks fights with Americans and Canadians, oblivious to the fact that he’s the troublemaker, not them.
Writer-director Martin McDonagh envisions Bruges as a Catholic purgatory. The one piece of artwork that Ray doesn’t hate is one of those cosmological Bosch paintings, packed with cruel, surreal imagery. Ken and Ray come across a film in production, a pretentious story about dreams and a dwarf. The actor is Jimmy (Jordan Prentice), a sharp little guy who puts up with Ray’s thoughtless jibes; they end up getting along quite well. McDonagh uses Prentice well, taking an attitude evolved beyond Tom DiCillo’s little-person politics in Living in Oblivion.
Nobody is what they seem at first glance. Ray wangles a date with a woman he sees on the movie set, who turns out to be involved in criminal activity, with a partner. Everybody’s interested in the drugs, and Ken, Ray, Jimmy and two prostitutes spend a coked-out night together. Cocaine recreation apparently has more appeal than sex.
The dialogue feels natural. We love Tarantino’s high-octane conversations, but McDonagh’s more casual chat feels correct for the context. Ray would normally be the last person to discuss art, but when he opens up his remarks are as good as anybody’s. The incidental references to movie lore feel natural, unlike the trendy movie gab that has proliferated ever since Get Shorty. We bring up that film as a comparison because In Bruges also uses film clips from Orson Welles’ Touch of Evil.
What makes all this droll comedy work is the fact that nothing is predictable, nothing relies on established mystery or thriller forms. Harry did have reasons to send Ken and Ray to Bruges, although divulging them would be an unnecessary spoiler. Ralph Fiennes’ Harry is little different than a psycho boss in any other kind of business — a micromanager who demands that Ken stay in sync with his personal taste, and accept his twisted reasoning. Harry remembers Bruges as a storybook place from a childhood vacation, a vision of innocence. He remembers the swans … if Harry’s parents had been able to take him to Disneyland, perhaps his whole life would have been different.
We of course spend In Bruges wondering when it will circle about to become an action picture, replacing the ripe character comedy with gunfire and mortal wounds. When the blood flows on the cobblestones, the show stays smart and becomes deeply affecting too. By now we realize that Ken and Ray are dedicated buddies; when they back each other in their stand against Harry, everything becomes a matter of principle. Maybe Peckinpah was right: these guys with guns operate based on personal codes, flawed though they may be.
Again, we stay hooked because Martin McDonagh’s script surprises us at every turn. Our fascination wavers only when things get a little exaggerated. A running gun battle appears to go on for 6 minutes without any law enforcement reaction. People are shot multiple times, yet are able to perform impressive physical feats. Harry’s final bits of ‘honor’ behavior shift fully into absurd territory, and at least one ironic coincidence shows a strain that says ‘writer closing a thematic circle.’
Yet the film is one of the best of its kind we’ve seen. Brendan Gleeson seems awfully sensitive and sweet-tempered to be a hit man, but what do we know — we only know hit men from the movies. Colin Farrell is overly moody and insecure; when we find out why, we understand. Cléménce Posey is a new kind of dream-girl — a sweetie who pushes coke and pills, and acts as the bait in hold-ups. Ralph Fiennes’ presence is restricted to the last act, but he sketches Harry with effortless assurance — the man is unhinged and dangerous, but also functionally viable. His kind are everywhere.
Respect for the characters is what separates McDonagh’s In Bruges from disposable action films with their arbitary violence and empty surprises. Personality surprises continually bring the show to life. Our concern becomes serious when the innkeeper Marie suddenly demonstrates a commitment to personal honor as stubborn as that of her Irish guests. We like her: despite the fact that she’s pregnant, she won’t give Ray up.
