Film

We Need to Talk About Kevin

Director
Lynne Ramsay
Certificate
15
Running Time
112 mins

Most assuredly not recommended for new or prospective parents, Lynne (Ratcatcher) Ramsay‘s adaptation of Lionel Shriver‘s epistolary novel seems to place nature firmly in the dock in the great ‘Nature vs Nurture’ debate. It also confirms her status as a great sensualist; if they gave an Oscar for most obsessive use of the colour red, Pedro Almodovar would have serious competition. Ramsay’s fractured narrative structure will be hard going for many, at least initially. Only by observing which haircut Tilda Swinton is looking wan, tormented and anxious beneath can we be sure where we are in the chronology of events.

That writer Eva’s (Swinton) sulky son Kevin (Jasper Newell, then Ezra Miller) has done something terrible as a teenager is obvious from the outset, as she’s abused in the street and lives alone in a dilapidated, vandalised house wearing her default expression of abject misery. We learn that from his difficult birth onwards, Kevin was always a little bleeder, screaming so loudly and continuously that Eva even parked his pram next to a road drill for some blessed relief. He also proved adept at manipulating uncomprehending dad (schlubby John C. Reilly, rather miscast). Later, he takes a turn for the sociopathic.

This feels so much like a misery memoir version of The Omen that it’s a wonder they didn’t go the whole hog and call it We Need to Talk About Damien. Alas, the little sod’s dialogue is never very convincing, rather like those wise-beyond-their-years Hollywood brats. Ramsay subtly points up the similarities between mother and son while pushing all the appropriate liberal arthouse buttons, even permitting Kevin to deliver a Haneke-style rebuke to the wretched, hand-wringing audience for being swept up in his story.

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By robin askew, Friday, Jan 26 2018

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