Chopper and Bronson

After recently catching Killing Them Softly, I developed a strong urge to revisit Andrew Dominik's first film, the Australian criminal biopic Chopper.  This in turn inspired me to also pop in Nicholas Winding Refn's psycho prisoner opus Bronson and pair the two for a write-up. Not only are these films similar in the sense that they're artful examinations of volatile outlaw personalities, they both served as the calling cards for their directors and lead actors.  Bana and Hardy have both gone on to critical acclaim and financial success in superhero franchise films (Hulk and The Dark Knight Rises respectively).  Dominik and Refn have proceeded to each make 2 truly great films since these earlier cinematic achievements, with Dominik's The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford in particular being a bona-fide masterpiece.  My goal here is to celebrate two fantastic films and hopefully inspire the segment of my readership who haven't yet seen them to rectify that oversight. 

I don't remember where exactly I first heard of Chopper.  It was the early aughts and I had no clue about the Internet, so I must have read about it in some film magazine or perhaps newspaper review.  In any case, I sought it out at my local video store and was absolutely bowled over by its stylish confidence and sizzling intensity.  I had been unimpressed by the many imitators to the Scorsese/Tarantino crime throne over the years (cough-Danny Boyle-cough), so Chopper was a refreshing blast of stale, smoky air.  It felt unique and genuine, an utterly Australian tale, mysterious by dint of its shrouded (to me anyway) history and mythology.  Some have complained that the film doesn't make enough concessions to non-native viewers, but I loved being swept away into such a foreign, bizarre world.  Dominik takes for granted the viewer will get the gist of the many region specific moments of dialect, custom and verbiage and I suspect he's right.  I for one am grateful he didn't sacrifice any of the momentum to spell things out for an American audience.  

The film making is intoxicating in its playfulness.  A scene being sped up to hilariously approximate a late-night, coked up conversation and a recounting of criminal activity rendered in the fashion of a children's nursery rhyme are but two examples of the inventiveness on display throughout.  The sickly color scheme permeating the proceedings brilliantly highlights the sordid circles its characters run in.  Eric Bana delivers a performance so gargantuan it threatens to burst from the screen and throttle you on the sofa.  Reenacting  Mark "Chopper" Read's real life actions and refracting them through the lens of his considerable neuroses makes this larger than life character a charismatic hero, lovable oaf, pitiable wretch and terrifying monster all at once.  It's a dark, paranoid film, full of upsetting violence and despicable behavior.  But the likable performances, witty script and breathless pace lighten the mood, making for a supremely enjoyable viewing experience.  For the hardened cinephile, of course.

Bronson, while containing some of the same surface DNA of Chopper, is an entirely different animal.  It's more Avant Garde and less cohesive, an experimental exercise in obtuse depravity.  In stark contrast to Dominik's assured handling of the Mark "Chopper" Read story and psychology, Refn instead chooses to dive into the deep end of Michael "Charlie Bronson" Peterson's vicious insanity without bothering to teach his audience to swim first.  It's a high-wire-act film that wanders off the wire quite a bit, but breathlessly captivates when it chooses to maintain balance.  One never grasps a narrative through line or indeed even a point during Bronson.  One simply lets the colors, craziness, fluid camerawork and pulsating score wash over them.  I prefer the more mature and focused presentation of Valhalla Rising and Drive over this film, but it's sort of hypnotizing to watch Refn keep burning himself as he plays with this out-of-control-fire of a film. 

One thing that's not out of control however, is Tom Hardy's once in a lifetime performance.  Possessing the sheer magnetism of a black hole, he keeps drawing you in closer and closer despite the inherently repulsive reality of his characters actions and predicament.  His bizarre mannerisms and tics make every scene an unpredictable performance art piece.  His intimidating physical presence is acutely felt throughout.  I'm always impressed by actors who transform their physique to suit a specific role and Hardy should be commended for so convincingly approximating the musculature of an inmate subjected to years of solitary confinement.  The work he does with his voice is every bit as compelling and lyrical as what he accomplished with Bane, but certainly more explosive in its aggression.  It's the sort of performance that walks right up to the edge, but never tumbles over into mere caricature.  While comically bewildering and endlessly entertaining, it comes from an honest place and fearlessly confronts the inexplicable horror of his real world counterpart.

While I would rate Chopper as the more successful film overall, it's almost negligent to contemplate one without the other.  They beautifully complement one another and function together as two sides of one diseased mind.  These are very confrontational, often unpleasant films, but they also disarm with charm and charisma.  They invite you in with smiles and braying laughter, then pummel you unconscious the moment the lights go out.  In that sense, these films are perfectly representative of their subjects.  Infinitely amusing and fascinating to consider at a safe distance, but you wouldn't want to be inside with them when the door slams shut.