Blue Ruin, 2013.
Written and Directed Jeremy Saulnier.
Starring Macon Blair, Devin Ratray, Amy Hargreaves, Kevin Kolack and Eve Plumb.
SYNOPSIS:
A mysterious outsider’s quiet life is turned upside down when he returns to his childhood home to carry out an act of vengeance. Proving himself an amateur assassin, he winds up in a brutal fight to protect his estranged family.
To describe Blue Ruin as “pulpy” would both undersell the film and nail its violent familial revenge scenario dead-on. For the movie – writer/director Jeremy Saulnier’s impressive second turn at the bat – is comfortable being both a schlocky pulp fiction thriller and a genuinely affecting (in its own sly, understated way) mystery drama, one resting on a lead character elevated to Greek tragedy by a quietly commanding performer.
When first we’re introduced to Macon Blair’s Dwight Evans, searching trash cans for food and living in his titular ‘blue ruin’ of an auto, he’s apparently been off the grid for some time. He’ll say nothing of how or why he came to be living miles from home out of that wreck of a car, solitude his choice, but slowly we come to assume a gruesome turn in his family’s history is what’s been haunting him to this very day. The pain of loss is embedded within him – the only reason the film rolls into motion is because, after years of waiting, Dwight sees an opportunity to exact vengeance.
The economy of the storytelling is as single-minded as Dwight; Saulnier’s film targets the revenge fantasy and keeps subplots to a minimum, as Dwight rejects assistance in his mission and avoids reigniting the spark of old friendships when he heads back to his home town. But Blue Ruin is no Point Blank-esque noir, and Dwight is no catatonic, Lee Marvin-style antihero – Dwight’s first attempt at ‘assassination’ is messy, and his instant reaction afterwards is to call on his estranged sister and break down in tears. Similarly, Dwight’s act of eye for an eye early in the film would usually mark the end of any revenge movie, but it only sees Dwight becoming the hunted in a prolonged retaliation attack.
With Dwight’s plan neither clear in the planning nor wholly successful in its execution, Blue Ruin is a revenge movie with the usual hero supplanted by some regular everyday guy. The scene in which Dwight attempts to self-operate on his newly arrow-punctured leg recalls the moment in No Country for Old Men in which Anton Chigurh casually patches up his bullet wound. Only Dwight’s attempt is followed by a jump-cut trip to the hospital, the arrow still embedded in his thigh (there’s a nice line in straight-faced black comedy here). He is as vulnerable as any normal person might be in such heightened circumstances.
As Dwight, Macon Blair is terrific. Through him, Saulnier’s lead appears silent but for what he needs to say, always visibly warring with himself over what’s right and what he feels is his duty. Much of it is not said, but seen in Blair’s sad, tired eyes. He ensures Dwight remains a common man with a small-town history, one whose best days have become memories. It gives Dwight a devil-may-care aura and grounds the story, suspending your disbelief even as the violence escalates to face-exploding levels.
Much of this review has been intentionally vague. There are films that don’t need the nowadays seemingly obligatory spoiler alert to remain surprising, but Blue Ruin is a film for the viewer to react along with. Another case for the argument that the modern thriller is replacing weak mainstream horror as the genre for cinema-goers seeking darker kicks, Blue Ruin features some superbly tense sequences, and a great deal of that tension is based in your lack of information. The film relies on its mystery, and on your discovery, to fully work. Avoid prior knowledge, go in innocent, and revel in what Blue Ruin has to offer.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
Brogan Morris – Lover of film, writer of words, pretentious beyond belief. Thinks Scorsese and Kubrick are the kings of cinema, but PT Anderson and David Fincher are the young princes. Follow Brogan on Twitter if you can take shameless self-promotion.
Originally published March 31, 2014. Updated April 12, 2018.
