In Bruges

In Bruges (2008)

Director: Martin McDonagh

Cast: Colin Farrell, Brendan Gleeson, Ralph Fiennes

You are either someone who loves In Bruges, or someone who hates it, which explains the split, cut-and-dry reviews of Martin McDonagh's first feature-length directorial film. McDonagh's writing, especially his dialogue and situational humor, is characteristically Irish. And the Irish have a unique brand of irony mixed with cheery morbidity and gloom along with a recognition of nationalistic and cultural stereotypes and norms. 

In Bruges tells the story of two British assassins cast away to the beautiful Belgium city of Bruges after the more reckless of the two,  Ray, played by Colin Farrell, accidentally kills a little boy in a church while whacking a priest in a confession booth. We learn this later, of course; in the interim we find Ray gloomily following his partner, Ken (Brendan Gleeson) around like a depressed puppy who knows he's been bad. As Ken uses their assigned hiding place as a chance to "sightsee" and take in the medieval scenery, Ray inexplicably shits on everything, repeatedly referring to Bruges as the worst place on earth to be trapped in. It's a sentiment that doesn't make any sense and therefore comes off as unbelievable; that is, until you realize that Ray is one cocaine binge hangover away from blowing his brains out. The result of all this is a movie that feels surprisingly claustrophobic and a bit self-conscious and hackneyed, in the most wonderful way.

Part emotional drama/part comedy/part crime film, In Bruges comes off as odd and undefinable, which is exactly what makes it great. It's truly original, and the stellar, top-notch acting only helps elevate its seeming simplicity into complicated heights. 

Take, for example, the scene in which Ken and Ray peruse a medieval art museum. Ray is visibly horrified by one painting of a man being flayed. Why? An ostensible simpleton most of the time, perhaps Ray sees the gruesomeness of the procedure and is shocked as anyone would be. More likely, however, he recognizes the futility of certain people causing other people to suffer in completely arbitrary ways. This point is supported by Ray's appreciation of Bosch's painting of  the Christian Judgement Day ("All the others are rubbish, but this one is quite good," he says). The chaos, randomness, and demonstration of many malformed individuals hard at work, engrossed in their own individual tasks appeals to Ray because it's the only thing that makes sense to him: Our world is an amalgamation of individuals and events occurring all at once, oblivious to one another. In that regard, Ray finds comfort in the idea that his own sin continues to go unrecognized by billions of people on earth, alive and dead.

In addition to an obvious and hilariously offensive display of anti-Americanism, In Bruges displays horrific gruesomeness which permeates one's consciousness and can't be washed off.  It contains one of the most horrific suicide-by-jumping scenes in the history of film (I dare you to find a more gory and stomach-churning one), and I still haven't had the guts to actually fully watch Ralph Fiennes's Harry blow his own head off. 

But if you've read any of McDonagh's plays or watched any of his other films, you will find that the insanely over-the-top violence exists as an absurdist inevitability for his emotionally vulnerable characters. Even the toughest guys have a heart, and even the most intoxicated ones can't numb themselves enough from their own acknowledgement of a certain, destiny-ordained call to action.  

In McDonagh's world, violence is a given; it's what we chose to do around it, to self-actualize, that really matters.  In the end, it's the only thing that transcends human suffering and folly. Therefore, the deliberate and obvious interplay between violence and hilarity, McDonagh's trademark, is what makes In Bruges a one of a kind in 21st century cinema. 

A-