Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
Nicolas Winding Refn's latest film, Only God Forgives, could conceivably be called the closest thing to a true take on Dante's Divine Comedy we've had in cinema. And it's easy to see why the film has divided audiences so greatly. The Danish auteur has followed up his most critically successful project with what may very well be his most divisive. Some have called it a hellish masterpiece, others have called it a loathsome exercise in style.
Make no mistake: Only God Forgives is not an easy watch. That seems to be Refn's bailiwick, as the director seems to enjoy making his audiences squirm (remember the elevator headstomp in Drive, or the sheer brutality of Valhalla Rising?). And he only cranks the dial up to eleven with this one. And for all of those expecting a pseudo-sequel to Drive, let me dissuade you: this is a completely different beast. Despite the two films sharing a laconic leading man in Ryan Gosling, Only God Forgives is Drive's polar opposite (or perhaps "evil twin" is more appropriate). Whereas Drive felt like a synthpop-infused dream, Refn's latest is a neon-splashed slice of hell.
Hell seems to be where Julian (Gosling) has been banished, and Refn's hell is Bangkok, a vibrant metropolis that is both beautiful and terrible to behold. Julian is the younger scion of a criminal matriarchy who spends his days running a kickboxing dojo. His older brother, Billy (Luke Evans), opts to use Bangkok to exercise his inner depravity. He ends up raping and murdering a teenage girl one night, and when the cops find him in the blood-drenched room, they contact their boss, a stone-faced cop named Lieutenant Chang (Vithaya Pansringarm). Chang allows the girl's father to exact revenge by beating Billy to death with his bare fists . . . and in return, Chang takes the father's hand with his trademark sword, then subsequently detoxes by performing pop songs in a karaoke bar.
Billy's death and Julian's seeming indifference brings about the attention of their mother, Crystal (Kristin Scott Thomas), who flies from America to claim her firstborn's corpse--and in doing so, emasculating her second son and forcing him to exact vengeance. Every party in this film cuts a swath of violence until its ultimate bloody climax, and Refn does not shy away from the brutal goings-on. We are treated to viscera-slathered rooms, split ribcages poking from gaping slash wounds . . . and in one grueling instance, a ruptured pair of eyeballs.
Yet it isn't the brutality that is most discomforting--or, indeed, exhilarating--about Only God Forgives. It is the crushing weight and the oppressive threat of violence that hangs over every gorgeous frame of the film, the brooding feeling that had made Valhalla Rising such a wonderful (if alienating) experience. Refn's film isn't a meditation of violence like that, but rather showcasing how, in a lawless world, every man might turn savage. Even the righteous in this world deal their justice in blood.
Always the master of atmosphere, Refn's brought top talent to the table. Cliff Martinez's score is ruthlessly energetic, a droning cacophony of horror that would make Wendy Carlos proud. His ace cinematographer Larry Smith, who lensed Bronson and Valhalla Rising, creates a horrifyingly enchanting look at sin and death and divine torment, soaking every frame in bloods and neons. I have long said that Refn is the perfect man to direct Blood Meridian, Cormac McCarthy's nightmarish Western, and this continues to validate it.
Whether or not you like him (and there are many who don't), you can't deny that Refn is ambitious, and for making a film with such a scant budget, he made every cent count. However, if I had to fault the film for anything, it's the fact that he took a very solid script and pared it down to its core elements. "Show, don't tell" is the golden rule of filmmaking, and Refn has taken that to heart. There is very little dialogue in the film that isn't in Thai, and most of what's left is condensed to terse one-sentence phrases. But Refn, like his mentor Alejandro Jodorowsky (to whom the film is dedicated), fuels this red-bathed nightmare with a slow dread that promises catastrophe that will shock. Only God Forgives is gorgeously gory, and while I wouldn't choose it over Drive as Refn's opus, I think this is his most definitive film to date.
Nicolas Winding Refn's latest film, Only God Forgives, could conceivably be called the closest thing to a true take on Dante's Divine Comedy we've had in cinema. And it's easy to see why the film has divided audiences so greatly. The Danish auteur has followed up his most critically successful project with what may very well be his most divisive. Some have called it a hellish masterpiece, others have called it a loathsome exercise in style.
Make no mistake: Only God Forgives is not an easy watch. That seems to be Refn's bailiwick, as the director seems to enjoy making his audiences squirm (remember the elevator headstomp in Drive, or the sheer brutality of Valhalla Rising?). And he only cranks the dial up to eleven with this one. And for all of those expecting a pseudo-sequel to Drive, let me dissuade you: this is a completely different beast. Despite the two films sharing a laconic leading man in Ryan Gosling, Only God Forgives is Drive's polar opposite (or perhaps "evil twin" is more appropriate). Whereas Drive felt like a synthpop-infused dream, Refn's latest is a neon-splashed slice of hell.
Hell seems to be where Julian (Gosling) has been banished, and Refn's hell is Bangkok, a vibrant metropolis that is both beautiful and terrible to behold. Julian is the younger scion of a criminal matriarchy who spends his days running a kickboxing dojo. His older brother, Billy (Luke Evans), opts to use Bangkok to exercise his inner depravity. He ends up raping and murdering a teenage girl one night, and when the cops find him in the blood-drenched room, they contact their boss, a stone-faced cop named Lieutenant Chang (Vithaya Pansringarm). Chang allows the girl's father to exact revenge by beating Billy to death with his bare fists . . . and in return, Chang takes the father's hand with his trademark sword, then subsequently detoxes by performing pop songs in a karaoke bar.
Billy's death and Julian's seeming indifference brings about the attention of their mother, Crystal (Kristin Scott Thomas), who flies from America to claim her firstborn's corpse--and in doing so, emasculating her second son and forcing him to exact vengeance. Every party in this film cuts a swath of violence until its ultimate bloody climax, and Refn does not shy away from the brutal goings-on. We are treated to viscera-slathered rooms, split ribcages poking from gaping slash wounds . . . and in one grueling instance, a ruptured pair of eyeballs.
Yet it isn't the brutality that is most discomforting--or, indeed, exhilarating--about Only God Forgives. It is the crushing weight and the oppressive threat of violence that hangs over every gorgeous frame of the film, the brooding feeling that had made Valhalla Rising such a wonderful (if alienating) experience. Refn's film isn't a meditation of violence like that, but rather showcasing how, in a lawless world, every man might turn savage. Even the righteous in this world deal their justice in blood.
Always the master of atmosphere, Refn's brought top talent to the table. Cliff Martinez's score is ruthlessly energetic, a droning cacophony of horror that would make Wendy Carlos proud. His ace cinematographer Larry Smith, who lensed Bronson and Valhalla Rising, creates a horrifyingly enchanting look at sin and death and divine torment, soaking every frame in bloods and neons. I have long said that Refn is the perfect man to direct Blood Meridian, Cormac McCarthy's nightmarish Western, and this continues to validate it.
Whether or not you like him (and there are many who don't), you can't deny that Refn is ambitious, and for making a film with such a scant budget, he made every cent count. However, if I had to fault the film for anything, it's the fact that he took a very solid script and pared it down to its core elements. "Show, don't tell" is the golden rule of filmmaking, and Refn has taken that to heart. There is very little dialogue in the film that isn't in Thai, and most of what's left is condensed to terse one-sentence phrases. But Refn, like his mentor Alejandro Jodorowsky (to whom the film is dedicated), fuels this red-bathed nightmare with a slow dread that promises catastrophe that will shock. Only God Forgives is gorgeously gory, and while I wouldn't choose it over Drive as Refn's opus, I think this is his most definitive film to date.