Nicholas Winding Refn's film doesn't for a second let us feel anything for Bronson, except that he truly does deserve the title of "Britain's Most Violent Prisoner". The tone of the film is that of a life abstracted from itself, a man who views himself from a stage, and from a confessional black space, and just as he was, and it's an experimental feat that will remind some of A Clockwork Orange (cause, you know, violent bloke plus classical music) and others of Lola Montes (for the kaleidoscopic view of a life lived as a showbiz personality, or would-be one). Much of the film is meant as pure entertainment, not a psychological breakdown of this guy. Maybe there isn't much more to tell, and that Bronson, or Mickey Peterson, was just a brutal f***-ed up thug who should stay behind bars. But then I started to think: really, what's the point then?
There's also a kind of disconnect with the experimental form, very loosely structured though in a linear time-line in Bronson's life in and sometimes not in prison, and Bronson as a character. Refn's talent extends out like a cage rattler, but it should have gone even further. After a while it gets a little tiring, actually, to return to that image of a clown-faced Bronson on stage giving a packed audience a show and a half. It becomes predictable, despite how radical Refn does, or thinks he does, filming the Bronson from his 'dramatized' scenes to his inner-landscape of wanting fame and notoriety. I knew it would come back around to it, and it becomes more of a gimmick, a plot device, stringing along the narrative as opposed to the narrative working hard for itself. Or, if this doesn't make sense, frankly, the film's structure and change in moods made me feel uneasy, and not always in the good intentional queasy way of underground independent cinema.
But don't get me wrong, Bronson does have a lot to recommend for it. Some scenes are just flat-out funny, like when Bronson does a rather poor job stealing a ring from a jeweler (or, he gets away, but explains "wait ten minutes to call" in such a calm, deadpan vice), or stick out as being really compelling and perfectly strange like when Bronson is put in a mental asylum as a means to tame the beast (how he gets out of it, by the way, is a wicked kind of genius). It's also thrilling to see an actor like Tom Hardy take on the role with such mania and skill. This is not a person one can like much, and only one or two moments is sympathy allowed or possible, and otherwise we see him just as the monster he was. For any actor this is a challenge, but when done right, such as here, it's enlightening. It's not quite as great as the performance (or just character) everyone's comparing it to- Alex in Clockwork Orange- but on its own terms it works as a contained force of rage and madness. He's an anti-hero that would make Jake La Motta cringe.
Oh, there's also plenty of scenes showcasing some wicked cinematography (wicked in a complimentary sense I mean), and a fine, strange mix of classical tunes and 80's synth-pop music. But by the end, something just didn't sit totally right with me with Bronson. It's audacious and cleverly filmed, but it doesn't take off from the promise of its opening minutes, drifting along on the a story that is actually shorter than expected, and after a while the sameness of the structure is what kind of gets it down. This should either be a straightforward narrative or something so gonzo it would make Takashi Miike run for the hills. Instead it's in a semi-comfortable middle. 6.5/10
There's also a kind of disconnect with the experimental form, very loosely structured though in a linear time-line in Bronson's life in and sometimes not in prison, and Bronson as a character. Refn's talent extends out like a cage rattler, but it should have gone even further. After a while it gets a little tiring, actually, to return to that image of a clown-faced Bronson on stage giving a packed audience a show and a half. It becomes predictable, despite how radical Refn does, or thinks he does, filming the Bronson from his 'dramatized' scenes to his inner-landscape of wanting fame and notoriety. I knew it would come back around to it, and it becomes more of a gimmick, a plot device, stringing along the narrative as opposed to the narrative working hard for itself. Or, if this doesn't make sense, frankly, the film's structure and change in moods made me feel uneasy, and not always in the good intentional queasy way of underground independent cinema.
But don't get me wrong, Bronson does have a lot to recommend for it. Some scenes are just flat-out funny, like when Bronson does a rather poor job stealing a ring from a jeweler (or, he gets away, but explains "wait ten minutes to call" in such a calm, deadpan vice), or stick out as being really compelling and perfectly strange like when Bronson is put in a mental asylum as a means to tame the beast (how he gets out of it, by the way, is a wicked kind of genius). It's also thrilling to see an actor like Tom Hardy take on the role with such mania and skill. This is not a person one can like much, and only one or two moments is sympathy allowed or possible, and otherwise we see him just as the monster he was. For any actor this is a challenge, but when done right, such as here, it's enlightening. It's not quite as great as the performance (or just character) everyone's comparing it to- Alex in Clockwork Orange- but on its own terms it works as a contained force of rage and madness. He's an anti-hero that would make Jake La Motta cringe.
Oh, there's also plenty of scenes showcasing some wicked cinematography (wicked in a complimentary sense I mean), and a fine, strange mix of classical tunes and 80's synth-pop music. But by the end, something just didn't sit totally right with me with Bronson. It's audacious and cleverly filmed, but it doesn't take off from the promise of its opening minutes, drifting along on the a story that is actually shorter than expected, and after a while the sameness of the structure is what kind of gets it down. This should either be a straightforward narrative or something so gonzo it would make Takashi Miike run for the hills. Instead it's in a semi-comfortable middle. 6.5/10