When a troubled brutal enforcer/private investigator takes on a case tracking down a missing girl, he gets caught up in a dark conspiracy which takes him down a deep and dark rabbit hole of abuse and perversion . . . and the untouchables who indulge in it in this adaptation of the Jonathan Ames novella from the director of ‘We Need to Talk About Kevin’.
A quick look at Lynne Ramsay’s brief filmography to date should reveal a gravitation towards the darker side of adolescence and coming-of-age, through her 1999 debut ‘Ratcatcher’, and of course 2011’s unforgettable pitch black portrait of a murderer and his childhood in ‘We Need to Talk About Kevin’. Now the Glaswegian director plunges deeper into the grim depths of the human condition, joining forces with one of the finest actors of his generation, for a stark vigilante tale of redemption to remember.
Joaquin Phoenix stars as the stoic and emotionally detached ‘Joe’, an uncompromising hammer-wielding private investigator who tracks down people for those who can’t go to the police, carrying out his tasks with brutality and determination. When his latest case tracking young ‘Nina’ (Ekaterina Samsonov) takes him deep into the underworld of child exploitation—where he crosses paths with powerful and dangerous individuals—painful childhood memories are dredged up, as a broken man begins to see the faint light at the end of the redemption tunnel.
‘You Were Never Really Here’ is a truly worthy addition to the small but significant sub-genre of films revolving around troubled and emotionally broken individuals, who are detached from a decadent and decaying society for which they become a reckoning of sorts—and come off all the better for it. As seen in the likes of 1976’s ‘Taxi Driver’, the masterwork from which this film draws so much, all the way to the more recent and underappreciated ‘Nightcrawler’ . . . with some shades of ‘Taken’ thrown in the mix.
Adapted from the Jonathan Ames book of the same name, ‘You Were Never Really Here’ features neither an intricate plot nor a meandering mystery, instead this is simplistic filmmaking at its most impactful and mesmerising. Taking advantage of the director’s talents as a painter of moving images and manipulator of mood to create a cinematic canvas of reflection, and raw but contained emotion—switching from scenes of extreme brutality to contemplation and even tenderness, while featuring jarring flashbacks and abstract yet symbolic dream sequences.
It’s also a film which depends largely on the authenticity and complexity of its lead character, so it’s just as well that Ramsay can rely on the considerable talents of Joaquin Phoenix to collaborate with and carry the movie, delivering another quite brilliant and nuanced performance, and arguably his most intense to date—as a stoic and inwardly raging enigmatic figure, often reeling from the emotional scars of childhood trauma and searching for redemption the only way he knows how . . . brutal vengeance.
Phoenix’s performance and that of his young co-star Ekaterina Samsonov also help to bring another element to this muscular thriller and gritty vengeance piece, adding a layer of human drama centred around childhood trauma, exploitation and the abuse of power, as well as revenge, redemption and rebirth. Narrative threads which are as relevant today as they ever were . . . and will unfortunately remain resonant for decades to come.
The final element of this striking and unflinching cinematic tapestry is of course the musical score, a pulsating and occasionally jarring mix of synthesizers and instrumentals, driving the narrative and the lead character’s inner turmoil, while adding an untold amount of atmosphere to the film. Created by Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood who reunites with Ramsay after his work on ‘We Need to Talk About Kevin’, and continues to carve out his place as one of the most exciting experimental composers working in film today—thanks largely to his many collaborations with Paul Thomas Anderson.
In the midst of a renaissance for female indie filmmakers and what may be a new dawn for women in Hollywood, Lynne Ramsay makes a triumphant return after a six year absence to remind us of her cinematic voice. ‘You Were Never Really Here’ may be too brutal for some or prove overly stylistic for others, and perhaps too simplistic for some tastes, but for us it strikes the right balance while openly referencing the films which inspired it with reverence . . . and leaving a lasting impression.
The Bottom Line…
A dark and atmospheric story of exploitation and abuse wrapped in a moody and muscular vigilante thriller, Lynne Ramsay applies her distinct stylistic vision and takes full advantage of her mercurial leading man to create a reverential 21st century successor to ‘Taxi Driver’—telling a simple but memorable and gripping tale of a society in decay, and people on the brink.
‘You Were Never Really Here’ is out on the 9th of March in the UK, and on the 6th of April in US cinemas.
#TriviaTuesday: A cost-cutting insect-like suit was the early design for the alien hunter in 1987's 'Predator'—unsuccessfully worn by the character's first actor Jean-Claude Van Damme—but it was ditched for a now iconic Stan Winston design at twice the price. Money well spent. pic.twitter.com/pvbTmpgUIB
#TriviaTuesday: ‘Big Kahuna Burger’ is most certainly the fictional fast food of choice in the Tarantinoverse, appearing or referenced in 'Reservoir Dogs', 'From Dusk Till Dawn', 'Death Proof', 'Four Rooms', as well as its starring turn in 1994’s 'Pulp Fiction' of course. pic.twitter.com/k3xVsbDuA6