Settling myself into the movie theatre seat at a screening of Andrew Dominik's Killing Them Softly, my expectations of the latest work by this distinguished New Zealand-born filmmaker were exceedingly high. He has the rare distinction of being one of the few contemporary young directors whose efforts have been continuously received with near-unanimous critical acclaim. His directorial debut, Chopper (2000), was serious, visceral, disturbing, and brilliant. Dominik's next film, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007), is a masterpiece. One of the greatest works of American 21st century cinema so far, it is visually exquisite, beautifully written, and extraordinarily well acted. An already incredible achievement, it is even more astonishing when it's reiterated that this was only Dominik's second directorial endeavor. So, then, when it was announced that his next film was to be a black comedy crime film depicting a misguided and ill-advised heist inside the brutal American Mafia and its violent consequences? Excitement and eager anticipation was only logical.
The economic recession of 2008 and harsh financial climate serves as the catalyst for the events of the film, the sequence of which begins with two impoverished degenerates.
Russell (Ben Mendelsohn) and Frankie (Scoot McNairy) are a pair of lowlifes and petty criminals, more desperate than ever to make a quick buck. Although initially unwilling, they are coaxed into robbing a Mob-protected poker game, persuaded by the allure of a quick job and easy cash - but when they do, the repercussions are deadly. Brad Pitt's character, Jackie Cogan, is the film's antihero - a mysterious and dangerous professional enforcer enlisted by the equally clandestine figure (played by the ever-befitting Richard Jenkins) known only as "the Driver" to identify and execute the culprits behind the heist.
The moral ambiguity of the ruthless criminal underworld causes the characters to be neither protagonists or antagonists, which is intelligently and pessimistically juxtaposed with the 2008 global financial crisis and United States presidential election of that year. As Frank Costello (played by Jack Nicholson) in Martin Scorsese's The Departed (2006) concluded: "When you decide to be something, you can be it. That's what they don't tell you in the church. When I was your age they would say we can become cops, or criminals. Today, what I'm saying to you is this: when you're facing a loaded gun, what's the difference?"
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| Russell (Mendelsohn) and Frankie (McNairy) |
The other performances are similarly accomplished. McNairy and Mendelsohn are superb as the woefully amateur, condemned duo. Ray Liotta, Sam Shepard, Vincent Curatola, and a particularly great turn from James Gandolfini, among others, completes this fantastic cast.
The film's premise is admirably simple but is created with impressive complexity, and it's for that reason that I don't want to reveal any further spoilers. However, it is not the truly great classic that some have declared it to be. It is excellently directed, perfectly acted, assertively written, and impressively filmed. Nevertheless, it's certainly not perfect. The political commentary is commendable in intention, but eventually becomes over-emphasised until clichéd, and is vulnerable to misinterpretation as an opportunistic post-production re-edit. The screenplay is also not effortless, and at times the black comedy is misplaced and ineffective, inconsistently written against other moments of macabre seriousness.
Be that as it may, I only subject Dominik to such scrutiny and criticism because of his considerable talent and incredible potential - and while it may not be his best film, it's still exceptionally good.
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