Blue Ruin (2013)
Enjoying a rare opportunity to take a bath, Dwight Evans (Macon Blair) is startled to hear the sounds of a family arriving at the Delaware beach home into which he has broken. He flees naked through a window to the dilapidated old Pontiac (a "blue ruin") that he calls home, his bed a filthy blanket spread over the back seat. That night he is awakened by an acquaintance, a concerned policewoman who gravely informs him that Wade Cleland (Brent Werzner), the man who killed his parents - an act that crushed Dwight's psyche, rendering him a trash-scavenging bum - will soon be released from the Virginia prison where he has served time for the murder. Ignoring her plea to put the tragedy behind him, Dwight prepares his battered vehicle for a mission fated to instigate a blood feud that threatens his own life and the lives of his estranged sister (Amy Hargreaves) and her two young children.
So begins Blue Ruin, director/writer Jeremy Saulnier's revisionist revenge saga that refreshingly dispenses with the standard "average-guy-turned-killing-machine" formula so prevalent in contemporary genre films. Dwight is a shy, schlubby man-child whose compulsion to avenge the murder of his parents is countered by fearfulness and his own woeful ineptitude. In short, he's a brutally honest avatar for those who crave the catharsis of wish-fulfilling films such as Kill Bill (2003) or Taken (2008). Through Dwight, Blue Ruin cannily targets viewers who entertain fantasies of fighting bad guys but would piss their pants in terror at the first inkling of trouble.
Despite, or perhaps because of, this reluctance to indulge in matinee machismo, Blue Ruin ratchets up the tension as effectively as, and more efficiently than, the pulpy films it echoes. It's the perfect antidote to the bloated, seemingly endless comic book spin-offs and pointless franchises reigning at the multiplexes. Made for under a half-million dollars, and with funding helped along by a Kickstarter campaign, Blue Ruin shames the major studios by looking impossibly good for its modest budget.
Blue Ruin's stylish cinematography is the work of writer and director Saulnier, a cinematographer by trade. Saulnier's visually striking, neo-noir compositions, from a neon-tinged scene of Dwight scrounging for dinner in garbage bins at a beachside amusement pier to the climactic showdown in a dimly lit home arsenal, complement the film's unpredictable script and forceful performances from its mostly unknown cast.
As the soft-spoken vigilante Dwight, Macon Blair carries the film with few words, primarily conveying the character's confused emotions through his expressive eyes. Devin Ratray, seen recently as Bruce Dern's chubby-bubba nephew in Alexander Payne's Nebraska (2013), also impresses as Ben, Dwight's gun-worshipping former schoolmate. The most eyebrow-raising performance, however, is a brief turn by Eve Plumb, best known as Jan Brady from the sitcom The Brady Bunch, as a vicious harridan intent on killing Dwight and what's left of his family. Despite the actress's television persona, the only "Brady" that comes to mind in Blue Ruin is the Brady gun control law.
Blue Ruin is so tautly constructed that most viewers will be willing to forgive several plot contrivances, among them the lucky coincidence that Dwight is able to replace his own bloodied rags with freshly laundered clothing (in his size, no less!) that he steals from a well-furnished wardrobe in a conveniently vacant house. But for the most part, Blue Ruin cleaves to the plausible. Saulnier, whose previous directorial effort was the jejune horror comedy Murder Party (2007), wisely chose to play it straight for his sophomore feature. There's dark humor throughout, but it's seamlessly contained in a tale that unfolds with deadly serious intent.
In tracking the catastrophic results of one man's demand for rough justice, Blue Ruin demonstrates the futility inherent in any cycle of retribution. As a corrective to the seemingly ever more prevalent worldview that violence is the solution to any problem, it's kin to Jeff Nichols' underrated Shotgun Stories (2007), another tale of escalating revenge and its consequences. But like that film, Blue Ruin states its case without ever being preachy. And no other feature film in recent memory concludes with a punchline that's as comical yet so unexpectedly piquant. Dwight's sad, misguided quest for vengeance is steeped in the gravitas of classic tragedy.
Blue Ruin is available on DVD and Blu-ray from Anchor Bay. There is a curious omission from the theatrical print involving the discussion of a photo of the protagonist and a stripper, although a subsequent reference to it was kept intact.
Despite, or perhaps because of, this reluctance to indulge in matinee machismo, Blue Ruin ratchets up the tension as effectively as, and more efficiently than, the pulpy films it echoes. It's the perfect antidote to the bloated, seemingly endless comic book spin-offs and pointless franchises reigning at the multiplexes. Made for under a half-million dollars, and with funding helped along by a Kickstarter campaign, Blue Ruin shames the major studios by looking impossibly good for its modest budget.
Blue Ruin's stylish cinematography is the work of writer and director Saulnier, a cinematographer by trade. Saulnier's visually striking, neo-noir compositions, from a neon-tinged scene of Dwight scrounging for dinner in garbage bins at a beachside amusement pier to the climactic showdown in a dimly lit home arsenal, complement the film's unpredictable script and forceful performances from its mostly unknown cast.
As the soft-spoken vigilante Dwight, Macon Blair carries the film with few words, primarily conveying the character's confused emotions through his expressive eyes. Devin Ratray, seen recently as Bruce Dern's chubby-bubba nephew in Alexander Payne's Nebraska (2013), also impresses as Ben, Dwight's gun-worshipping former schoolmate. The most eyebrow-raising performance, however, is a brief turn by Eve Plumb, best known as Jan Brady from the sitcom The Brady Bunch, as a vicious harridan intent on killing Dwight and what's left of his family. Despite the actress's television persona, the only "Brady" that comes to mind in Blue Ruin is the Brady gun control law.
Blue Ruin is so tautly constructed that most viewers will be willing to forgive several plot contrivances, among them the lucky coincidence that Dwight is able to replace his own bloodied rags with freshly laundered clothing (in his size, no less!) that he steals from a well-furnished wardrobe in a conveniently vacant house. But for the most part, Blue Ruin cleaves to the plausible. Saulnier, whose previous directorial effort was the jejune horror comedy Murder Party (2007), wisely chose to play it straight for his sophomore feature. There's dark humor throughout, but it's seamlessly contained in a tale that unfolds with deadly serious intent.
In tracking the catastrophic results of one man's demand for rough justice, Blue Ruin demonstrates the futility inherent in any cycle of retribution. As a corrective to the seemingly ever more prevalent worldview that violence is the solution to any problem, it's kin to Jeff Nichols' underrated Shotgun Stories (2007), another tale of escalating revenge and its consequences. But like that film, Blue Ruin states its case without ever being preachy. And no other feature film in recent memory concludes with a punchline that's as comical yet so unexpectedly piquant. Dwight's sad, misguided quest for vengeance is steeped in the gravitas of classic tragedy.
Blue Ruin is available on DVD and Blu-ray from Anchor Bay. There is a curious omission from the theatrical print involving the discussion of a photo of the protagonist and a stripper, although a subsequent reference to it was kept intact.