In Bruges

This may be Martin McDonagh’s first feature but strangely, many people will know exactly what to expect from it. McDonagh’s unique blend of jet-black comedy, high drama, graphic violence and stagey kitch has seen him emerge as one of the most singular voices in modern theatre. His plays have the pedigree and awards to prove it. He even has an Oscar to his name for the short film Six Shooter.

The problem is, if you’re a McDonagh virgin, this film will be a little like your first time. Not quite how you pictured it, a little confusing and unsettling, you might feel a little guilty but damn straight you wanna do it again. Certainly, In Bruges confounds expectations. On the surface it appears to be a guns and gangsters caper telling the story of two hitmen (Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson) who retreat to Bruges to hide out after a hit goes wrong. They are pursued by Ralph Fiennes in full blown cockney mode. Indeed as the trailer promises, all manner of calamitous capery inevitably ensues. But, those who know McDonagh’s work will know to expect more.

Rather than lapsing into a sub Guy Ritchie comic strip (insert obligatory reference to Tarantino concerning any film with guns and sharp dialogue) the film sets the characters up as real, living, breathing people and lets them lead the plot to places one wouldn’t expect. Places where their decisions matter on a personal level rather than merely serving the plot machinations. Rarely has such broad comedy sat so closely along side such genuine dramatic tension and tragedy.

It’s this unsettling and innovative tonal mix that may divide audiences however. McDonagh’s plays have always succeeded in appropriating cliched, stage Irishness and its associated broad comedy and caricature, whilst blending it with drama, violence and pathos. Perhaps the subtleties of cinematic tone present more of a challenge. To his credit, McDonagh aims high, attempting a tone that is almost unique and for the most part he succeeds admirably. The damp, dreary cinematography, the consistent dwelling on the medieval and gothic architecture, the ominously haunting score from Coens regular Carter Burwell all bare the mark of a master filmmaker. That all this sits beside broad, sometimes puerile and often deliberately offensive comedy is undeniably unusual and mostly impressive. Its not for the feint of heart or the feint of taste, but that’s the whole point.

At every juncture, the film is asking the audience moral questions, not least what they are willing to accept and forgive from a person and from a joke. Thus the blackest of the comedy feels consistent to the themes rather than being contrived for shock value – though many will see it as such. Yes, the mix jars at times. Yes, Colin Farrell speaking with Colin Farrell’s voice and accent for what seems like the first time – and all the associations we attribute to it – struggles to navigate the tonal shifts occasionally. Yes the ball is dropped now and again. Yes it lapses into the self-indulgence of a debut film on at least one occasion, but this is a hugely ambitious and auspicious debut that has more big ideas and moral ambiguity than any film with a gun, a gangster and a geezer has any right to.

Any fan of cinema has to welcome a filmmaker who can mix jokes about fat Americans, midgets and Tottenham Hotspur with a dark, morally ambiguous drama. Pop your cherry.

4/5