Review- We need to talk about Kevin

The idea that a mother would struggle to love her child is a subject that seems taboo in society, there is still, in some cases, a reluctance in women to accept they may have succumb to Post Natal depression in the time that is supposed to be filled with joy. But even if the mother does grapple with her lack of maternal instincts for the newborn, and some resentment for the new bundle of responsibilities is laid bare, does this lay the foundation for the child to become a monster? Or they destined to align with evil no matter what the environment?

Lynne Ramsay's adaptation of We need to talk about Kevin, from the bestselling book by Lionel Shriver navigates this battlefield of a mother's love for a truly unlovable child. Tilda Swinton plays Eva Khatchadourian, a woman living with, and reliving the events leading up to, and following her son, Kevin's massacre of fellow students at his high school. The film begins with Eva at a low ebb, jobless, sleepwalking through life with a room full of pills and wine bottles. Her house is vandalised with red paint and she is verbally abused daily by the parents of the children that her son killed and injured. Even the respite of a new job is short-lived with the daily vitriol that consumes every thing she does.

Ramsay's film moves from the present to the past, cutting between what was and what is now, scenes appear like longing memories, others jarring with past pain and harsh realities return of the relationship between Eva and her son Kevin and what lead to his terrible actions. From the beginning of his conception it is clear Eva sits ill at ease with pregnancy, removed from her free spirited life as a travel writer, she now appears trapped, uncomfortable in antenatal classes,surrounded by bumps. The birth of Kevin is filmed like a scene from a horror movie with oblique angles and screams of pain and after the labour, Eva seems detached from the experience, unwilling to hold her newborn.

Once home, she struggles to stop Kevin from crying and various attempts to bond with her child are thwarted by his resilience to play along and his stubborn refusal to learn the word 'Mommy'. Only when dad Franklin (a sweet but naively dim-witted John C Reilly) returns home does the child come to life and converse with his father. Though Eva at first voices her discomfort with her role as a mother in her post natal depressive state, at one point Franklin catches Eva telling baby Kevin if he wasn't around she would be happy and living in France, she tries to connect to her child but there is something so inherently wrong with Kevin, something that no amount of withheld nurture could nature.

As Kevin grows up, through his toddler years, where he continually goads Eva with defiant acts, through to becoming a teenager, his disdain for his mother also grows with increasingly chilling behaviour, all the while still undetected by his father, culminating in the most ill advised Christmas present in history. If Shriver's novel had fallen into the wrong hands, this could have been played out as a cheap horror movie, the devil child terrorising his mother, and though there is an element of horror to the novels subject and, in turn the film, it is the heartbreaking context delivered to heartbreaking effect that elevates the film to agonising brilliance.

The film is one of the best examples of right director for the right material, Lynne Ramsay's art house sensibilities perforate the narrative with vivid imagery and dreamlike wounds. The colour red punctuates many of the images from the paint thrown on Eva's house, that she so metaphorically cannot completely clean away, to innards of sandwiches bursting with vibrant jam to the blood that defines Kevin's final sadistic act. The use of sound is particularly effective where subtlty reigns when it needs to and the use of songs have a bittersweet juxtaposition to what is unfolding on screen. If Ramsay is the right director, then Tilda Swinton is the right actress for the film, she is able to say show much with her face, without saying anything at all, quiet devastation etched on her features, she is fearless in her portrayal of Eva, unafraid to be exposed warts and all. Newcomer Ezra Miller, who plays the teenage Kevin, is a mesmerising screen presence, wholly repulsive in his treatment of his mother, yet unable to turn away from his hypnotic snide demeanor.

We need to talk about Kevin is a beautifully afflicting film, a tragedy composed with deft skill of direction, it is a story of suffering, guilt and the fragility of life. For some it will be the best advertisement for being careful with contraception, for others it will be a emotional reminder to cherish your loved ones and be thankful for everything you have.

Review-Contagion

In an average day, think about how many times you touch your face, doorknobs, surfaces and how many people you interact with and who have also touched similar public surfaces. Now think if there was a highly infectious virus was born into the environment, spreading with every touch, cough and contact. This is the question that Steven Soderbergh’s latest film Contagion asks and in doing so becomes the non horror ‘horror’ film of the year.

Contagion begins with the clever subtitle ‘Day 2’ leaving the audience and the characters in the dark as to what happened on Day 1, as a philandering wife Beth Emhoff (Gwyneth Paltrow) begins with a cough in Chicago airport on a stop off from her way back from Hong Kong. We see her travel home to her husband Mitch (Matt Damon) and son in Minneapolis, whilst also seeing the people she has come into contact with begin to fall seriously ill, and then Beth herself two days later suffers a seizure and dies from the unknown disease. This fatality becomes the catalyst for a chain of events from the initial outbreak of the virus, to attempts to contain it, to the widespread panic, which leads to social disorder and chaos and trying to find a vaccine for the disease. The narrative runs over several interconnecting plotlines- Dr Cheever (Laurence Fishburne) works for the Centre for Disease control and prevention, trying to grasp the severity of the virus and how to handle the impending crisis. He sends Dr Mears (Kate Winslet) an Epidemic Intelligence Officer to Minneapolis to investigate and to trace back. CDC Scientist Dr Hextall (Jennifer Ehle) tries desperately to first try to find the characteristics of the virus, to then find a vaccine against it, risking her own life in the process and motivated by her father, who is one of the infected. Dr Orantes (Marion Cotillard) is an epidemiologist from the World Health Organisation who travels to Hong Kong to identify patient zero and in turn, the origins of the virus. Jude Law plays the appropriately named Alan Krumwiede, a conspiracy theorist blogger, who tries to push a homeopathic cure onto desperate people for his own financial gain. And Matt Damon is the everyman ordinary Joe, a guy who appears immune from the virus yet has lost his wife and stepson, he is mourning whilst trying to protect his daughter, who has returned home, from harm.

Though this sounds like a lot to take in and to cover, Steven Soderbergh is a director who knows how to juggle a multi strand plot, as shown in previous film Traffic, and does with ease and clarity, the time frame of days, from the first outbreak helps to keep track of the events and also highlights how quickly it escalates. Attention is needed but the viewer is rewarded with a more grown up version of the medical disaster movie. It is the matter of fact manner direction that makes it all the more intensely real, rather than a Hollywood style race for the cure hero version. The film is boasted by a stellar cast who weave through the film, intertwining but never trying to outshine each other, theatrics are kept to a minimum, a rarity for a film with so many big names. Some, inevitably, are short changed on screen time, notably Cotillard whose narrative strand is left in limbo for some of the running time and the less said about Law’s dodgy American/Aussie accent the better.

Contagion may feel at times less like entertainment and more like a biological warning, but cinema’s functions are not always focused on the pleasure aspect. It is a smart and very scary film, one to make you squirm and to induce a sense of paranoia, one that may leave you a little wary next time you open a door in public.