In the land of action-thrillers, there is a fence. On one side lies territory that is ‘edgy,’ ‘atmospheric,’ and ‘cool.’ The other side is ‘stifling,’ ‘slow,’ and ‘boring.’ Nicolas Winding Refn found himself on the former side of this fence with Drive and Bronson, and the latter with Valhalla Rising. Fellow Scandinavian Niels Arden Oplev similarly stretches across the divide. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is as brooding and dark as its eponymous anti-heroine, but his latest release—Dead Man Down—lands with a painful thud in a realm of monotony.
The most remarkable thing about the film is the ease with which it moves from stylish to clumsy. The film opens with crime lord Alphonse (Terrence Howard) and henchman Victor (Colin Farrell) making a grisly discovery in a basement freezer replete with macabre tricks taken from Silence of the Lambs. This is immediately followed by a gunfight that is bewildering and bombastic in equal measure. Such sudden shifts come to characterize Dead Man Down, a film filled with long swaths of yawn-inducing scenes meant to pluck one’s tender heartstrings and interspersed with sudden sharp turns of in-your-face action.
Though he is a henchman, Victor is far from loyal. The script takes its time unpacking his backstory, but the audience eventually learns that Victor has infiltrated Alphonse’s organization to avenge the murder of his wife and child, who died by Alphonse’s orders. Complicating the task is Beatrice (Noomi Rapace), a woman who blackmails Victor requesting vengeance of her own, and Darcy (Dominic Cooper), a close friend who begins to dig too deeply into Victor’s past.
Everyone involved in this film is ill-served by J. H. Wyman’s screenplay. One prerequisite of ‘pulse-pounding action’ is the presence of a pulse, but Dead Man Down‘s plotline is so tiresome and formulaic that the film’s most highfalutin set pieces have less kick than one’s morning coffee. In all other moments, the boredom is suffocating.
The brilliance of some of Farrell’s previous roles (In Bruges, Seven Psychopaths) makes one wonder why his work here is so cringingly bad. Victor’s ‘silent tough guy’ persona never cracks. Underneath the adamantine exterior must be a maelstrom of pain and hatred. The script never offers much of a chance for this to break through, and Farrell doesn’t exactly try. As a result, a film that tries so hard at emotional resonance ends up deadened and flat.
The actor who best escapes this mess is Rapace. Best known for playing Lisbeth Salander in the Millennium trilogy, her performance here is layered and evocative, an anchor of rapturous talent that, quite frankly, was the only thing keeping me from walking out altogether.
Other than Rapace, not much exists that redeems this film. Not much exists, period. The dark colour palette and stark lighting meant to convey moodiness ends up being dull and cheap. Action scenes are often randomly spliced up sequences of millisecond shots, a non-technique that characterizes post-Michael Bay Hollywood. Dead Man Down limps along like an injured animal, whimpering and sedate save the occasional bout of epilepsy. For an average director, the film would be a disappointment. For the director of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, it’s a cry for intervention.
Dead Man Down is now playing at Scotiabank Theatres (977 Ste-Catherine West.)
