{"id":2789,"date":"2012-01-30T21:23:22","date_gmt":"2012-01-30T21:23:22","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.crimeculture.com\/?page_id=2789"},"modified":"2012-02-04T22:00:30","modified_gmt":"2012-02-04T22:00:30","slug":"we-need-to-talk-about-kevin","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.crimeculture.com\/?page_id=2789","title":{"rendered":"We Need To Talk About Kevin"},"content":{"rendered":"

Film Review by Lauren Randall<\/span><\/a><\/span><\/h4>\n

\"\"<\/a>There have been few cinematic offerings in recent years that have traumatised their audiences quite like Lynne Ramsay\u2019s unsettling We Need To Talk About Kevin<\/em> (2011). Adapted from Lionel Shriver\u2019s revered (beloved is far too warm a word) and hugely successful 2003 novel, Ramsay and her co-writer husband Rory Kinnear have conceived a brutal piece of cinema, apt when you consider that at the very core of Shriver\u2019s story is the fear of giving birth to a monster. Though sticking closely to the side of the world-weary Eva (Tilda Swinton), the narrative tears back and forth ruthlessly through her life as a mother, pulling apart the events leading up to and after the unspeakable crime committed by her disturbed teenage son, Kevin.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s a good job, then, that the film is carried magnificently by its leading lady. Swinton devastates as the youthful traveller and lover, the social outcast and in particular the perennially tormented mother of Kevin, creating a woman who beneath a wide-eyed exterior you know to be constantly screaming inside. Vulnerable Eva may be,\u00a0but Swinton is smart enough to realise that she is never fully a victim, and that Eva herself is aware of \"\"<\/a>this. Flitting between resentment of her son\u2019s existence, the frustration with her blissfully unaware husband (John C. Reilly, doing his best with the one weak character), and the guilt following Kevin\u2019s actions, Eva\u2019s pallid face disturbs the viewer almost as much as her son\u2019s.<\/p>\n

Of course, though the film may anchor itself in Eva\u2019s traumas, it is as haunted as she is by Kevin\u2019s malevolence. Inhabited with disarming ease by Ezra Miller, Kevin\u2019s impassivity allows for wonderfully subtle character changes, a canvas of contempt masterfully harnessed in the false smiles to his father and the sly smirks to his mother. The chemistry between the two leads is startling, with their own androgynous features merging with the other\u2019s to create a macabre mirror-image, binding the two together inextricably and uncomfortably for any parents watching.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>It\u2019s a testament to the richness of Shriver\u2019s original text that Ramsay chooses to focus upon the interior violence of the mother-son relationship rather than linger tastelessly upon Kevin\u2019s diabolical actions. Caught between\u00a0the stark sterility of\u00a0domestic\u00a0mundanity and the\u00a0crimson\u00a0blurs and punches of violent excitement\u00a0–\u00a0\u00a0such as\u00a0Eva\u2019s exhilarated writhing amongst blood-red tomatoes in the opening\u00a0scene\u00a0–\u00a0the film is a blistering attack upon the senses yet bewilderingly captivating too.<\/p>\n

Impossible to turn away from yet one of the most harrowing cinema experiences in history, Ramsey\u2019s film is a triumph in every way. A horror show for parents everywhere, We Need To Talk About Kevin<\/em> is one film that isn\u2019t going to be silenced any time soon.<\/p>\n

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