“I don’t want people to enjoy this film” said William Friedkin of his latest cinematic work, and whilst the director has always been known to court the press and in turn the censorship threshold with his malevolence, he may just have a point with Killer Joe. The story of a white trash trailer park family of no good cheaters and liars is a Southern fried noir with a literal nasty taste to it, however it is also bleakly and darkly funny view of inept misfits in a hopeless situation. You may not like yourself for sniggering but sniggering you just may do. Killer Joe tells the tale of the Smith family, a bunch of lowlife losers, living off junk food and beer and years of possible scams to make more money. Ansel the father, (Thomas Hayden Church) is a worthless, yet harmless lay about who paves the way for son Chris (Emile Hirsch) to act like the patriarch of the family, albeit in a reckless and rough fashion. Stepmother Sharla (Gina Gershon) is a brazen pizza waitress with a side order of adultery, leaving the youngest of the clan, the wide eyed innocent Dottie (a mesmerising, childlike Juno Temple) as the only beacon of light in this dank, dirty set up. Yet the inevitable sense of desolation tells you it is only a matter of time before she too is corrupted.
When a desperate Chris returns to the family trailer, in dire need of cash to stop a hit on him due to a bungled deal with the local drug boss, he comes up with a double indemnity style plan to solve his wretched situation. His seedy saviour is Killer Joe (a delightfully dark Matthew McConaughey), a police detective with an unorthodox sideline in contract killing, whom Chris plans to hire to murder the family’s biological mother who all but abandoned her kids, and so claim a $50,000 life insurance policy that is due to befall to Dottie. Enlisting hapless father Ansel into the mix, who latches onto the unfamiliar scent of a big payday, their plot is hit by the significant snag that they are unable to pay Joe upfront for the job, his fee due to come from the insurance pay out. But Joe comes up with a sinister lifeline, having taken a shine to the virginal Dottie; he proposes to use her as a ‘retainer’, to do with what he pleases, until the insurance comes through.
Based on the play by Tracey Letts, Killer Joe retains much of the claustrophobic stage setting by placing most of the scenes within the Smiths cramped home and though the film does leave the confines of the trailer park for a few exterior scenes, you continually get the feeling that there is no escape, that all roads lead back to despondent gloom. There will be no happy endings and predictably no one gets away clean as the plot unravels before the family’s eyes. Friedkin takes this fairly simplistic premise that has been used in various incarnations in previous noirs, and turns it into a startling uncomfortable, tar black humour filled thriller. The film borrows sombre shades from directors David Lynch with pseudo sexual maniac Joe and The Coens in its redneck goofiness and double crossing deals. Cinematographer Caleb Deschanel creates a magnetic backdrop of the Texan landscape which is barrow and rundown, the odd twinge of guitar creeps into the soundtrack to add to the creepy brooding tension. All the cast excel, they become so ingrained in their personas, that it is impossible to imagine anyone else in their roles, particularly Juno Temple as Dottie, her girlish mannerisms and doll eyed cherubic nature is all the more haunting when she is seduced by Joe in a particularly disconcerting scene. The casting revelation comes from Matthew McConaughey however as the titular Joe, sticking two thumbs up to the romcom mush he has been treading water in for many years. His Southern drawl used to hypnotic effect, a snake like presence that is repulsive in his actions yet impossible to take your eyes off. And yes he does take his top off but all thoughts of buff sex symbol McConaughey will be forgotten when he is taking advantage of an underage girl and using sexual violence to get revenge.
Much has been made of ‘that chicken scene’ and there are many explicit scenes not for the easily offended and faint hearted, the film taking an accelerated turn as it sprints to the finish line, but it does so with such sly wit and mischief that you cannot help but be drawn into the madness. Go with Friedkin’s messed up ride and you will ‘enjoy’ the anarchy. Sure, you will from now on shudder each time you pass a KFC, but is that an entirely bad thing?
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