Review of Seven Psychopaths (2012) by James C — 17 May 2013

I've never knowingly met a psychopath, but I have encountered some strange, irrational and mentally unstable people in my time. My next door neighbours are a case in point. The husband entertains himself by hurling abuse and cackling at us from his car as he swerves inches from the kerb. His lumbering, knuckle-dragging wife, when not shouting random expletives over the garden fence, uses their dog as a weapon of intimidation, threatening to "bite any fucker" within their proximity, or leaving little 'presents' outside our house.

At least, I assume it's the dog. I wouldn't be surprised to open my front door one day to see the pair of them squatting on my front lawn, trousers round their ankles, curling out their own little 'presents', an initial look of deep concentration giving way to an expression of shock intermingled with shame as they realise they have been caught in the act. Their expression then settles on one of defiance as they intend to see the job through to the bitter end. Once finished, they calmly and silently pull up their trousers, and walk back into their house, with their dog shrugging apologetically at me as he gets led away.

However, there is an altogether better class of psychopath showcased in Irish playwright Martin McDonagh's eagerly awaited follow up to the brilliant 'In Bruges'. Essentially a tale of an alcoholic screenwriter's struggle with writers block, it is the latest example of film going all 'meta', that self-aware, self-referential state that almost breaks the fourth wall but is really just a snappier word for post modernism squared. Meta is the current buzzword for people who like to make themselves sound intellectual and at the cutting edge of our ever-changing cultural mores.

But being 'meta' isn't anything new. Most Hollywood output has some form of meta- like tendencies from the recent Star Trek reboots, to the classic spoof movies of the past such as 'Airplane' or 'This is Spinal Tap'. And 'The Simpsons' have been doing it for decades. It's one of the reasons parody as a credible cinematic genre has died a death, to be replaced by deluded tripe like the 'Scary Movie' franchise.

It seems that the best way to tackle writers block is to confront it head on. That is exactly what Charlie Kaufman did when writing the strange, Oscar-nominated 'Adaptation', a tale of a man struggling with writer's block who turns to his twin brother for help. Kaufman got his full meta jacket on here, having gotten into the habit writing the brilliant 'Being John Malkovich'. Similarly, McDonagh details his own struggles with writer's block (the film took four years to come to fruition after 'In Bruges') by creating his onscreen avatar Marty (Colin Farrell, playing the straight guy for a change) a Hollywood scriptwriter struggling with the drink as well as with his latest script, the aforementioned 'Seven Psychopaths'. Attempting to help him find his inner muse is his best friend Billy (the brilliant Sam Rockwell) who, along with Hans (Christopher Walken, better than he has been in years) runs a dognapping business. When Billy and Hans kidnap the shi-tzu from notorious LA gangster Charlie (Woody Harrelson, by turns scarily unpredictable and hilariously pathetic), Charlie cuts a bloody swathe through the LA underworld in an increasingly desperate and downright illogical quest to be reunited with his beloved dog. Add to the mix a mysterious vigilante calling himself the Jack of Diamonds, seemingly randomly killing off LA gangsters, then weave in a few tales of various 'fictional' psychopaths who may or may not be connected to the film's 'reality', and you have a fairly scatty, uneven, but brilliantly entertaining two hours' worth of entertainment.

Ultimately, the plot is fairly meaningless and overall the film is not as focused as 'In Bruges', but that may be a natural by-product of McDonagh's attempts to win his epic battle with 'the block' by using a multi-layered narrative as his creative springboard. But, like 'In Bruges', the pleasure is in McDonagh's almost supernatural ability to build multi-dimensional characters through sharp, intelligent and incredibly irreverent dialogue, being delivered by a seasoned cast that fit together so well that the term 'palpable chemistry' should be a pre-requisite for anyone attempting to make these types of films. All the principal actors work their thespian nuts off and it is refreshing to watch a film that is both intelligent and colon-damagingly funny. It is very difficult to find a balance between those two elements as one is usually sacrificed for the other. But McDonagh manages to nail it (as he did so expertly with 'In Bruges') forcing the audience to vomit incredulous laughter at the latest line of outrageous dialogue whilst at the same time marvelling at its intelligence and wit.

It's also clear that McDonagh is having fun with established genre conventions and narrative principles. From the story within story type narrative structure to the inverting of stereotypes such as the clever opening scene with Michael Pitt and Michael Stuhlbarg to Charlie's increasingly exasperated henchmen questioning the whole point of their insane quest over a dog to Hans's refusal to put his hands up when faced with Zeljko Ivanek's gun wielding gangster because, honestly, what's the point? All these little touches serve to add greater depth to the characters as well as a level of audacious unpredictability not seen in many films nowadays.

With 'Seven Psychopaths', Martin McDonagh has now established himself as one of the cleverest and most interesting film makers working today. One hopes that his next effort doesn't take quite so long to hit our screens and that his battle with the writer's block is behind him. Hopefully, by the time of his next film, my neighbours will have been sectioned and a more agreeable class of psychopath will have moved in next door.