Still, even those predisposed to reject a film based on the number of objectionable scenes it contains will find it difficult to dismiss this one. Unlike the recent Lord of War—a movie featuring lots of violence ostensibly to make the point that it’s against violence—A History of Violence, doesn’t deal in platitudes on whether guns are bad or whether killing is ever warranted.
This movie already knows the answer to those questions and dismisses them as childish. Instead, it asks much more difficult, thoughtful questions about necessary brutality and man’s striving toward a higher nature. Through Tom, Cronenberg weighs the cost of playing the executioner. To keep order, to protect loved ones, someone must do it. But what if that person starts to enjoy doing it?
Cronenberg melds all aspects of our American understanding of violence into a sort of meditation—the rush we feel when Eastwood deals the blow the bad guy has coming; the cheap spectacle we enjoy watching Schwarzenegger on the rampage; and the justifiable desire we have to protect ourselves by force.
As we are drawn deeper into Tom Stall’s life and background, he embodies each one, allowing the audience to indulge the range of satisfaction bloodshed can offer. But Cronenberg also wants us to know that it costs something.
Like David who killed at God’s will but was subsequently barred from building the temple, Tom does what he must but may end up paying a spiritual price for it.
There’s a moment in A History of Violence when, covered in blood, Tom turns to his estranged son with a look on his face that could be fierce love or could be merely fierce. For a moment, we’re not sure whether we want the son to embrace Tom or run away from him.
Watching Cronenberg’s visceral style at work in this film feels much the same.
In the end, you’re not sure what point of view Cronenberg has presented, but, unlike most current filmmakers, you’re certain he has one worth reflecting upon.