Redemption elusive in Sinners
People build legacies in different ways. Some have a large family. Some pour their energy into their work. Others devote their lives to the church. Then there are those who spend all their time doing charitable works. Finbar Murphy's legacy is something quite different.
In a remote part of a forest near where he lives there's a small grove of trees, all of them of various sizes. Beneath each is a man he's killed. This is a legacy that was never meant to be as large as it is, and the fact that it has grown to the proportions it has is weighing on Murphy.
Far more than just a simple Liam Neeson actioner, In the Land of Saints and Sinners is an examination of what happens to a life of justifications and compromises, fueled by self-righteous anger. Taking place in Glencolmcille, Ireland in 1974, the script by Mark Micheal McNally and Terry Loane takes a hard look at the effects of the violence that swept through the country during this era, examining how it impacted the communities where it took place, but also the toll it took on those who perpetrated it.
Realizing he only has so much time left, Murphy (Neeson) informs McQue (Colm Meaney) that he's retiring. Intent on starting again, he plants a garden behind his tiny home. However, his peaceful existence is short-lived. Rita (Niamh Cusack), a young widow who works at the local pub, has taken up with a newcomer. Curtis (Desmond Eastwood) is a violent outsider with a short fuse, who she's taken into her home. However, when Murphy realizes he's been abusing Rita as well as her daughter, he takes matters into his own hands, breaking his vow to kill no more.
Unbeknownst to him, Curtis' sister Doireann (Kerry Condon) and her two cohorts are headed to Glencolmcille to hide out. Members of the I.R.A., they were responsible for a bombing in Belfast that went horribly wrong, killing six innocent people, three of them children. Desperate, they hope to lay low until the smoke clears, but once Doireann finds that her brother has been killed and Murphy was responsible, blind rage overtakes her and she sets out to get him, no matter the cost.
It's good to see Neeson in a role with a bit more depth than that of which he's been playing lately. There's a weariness about him here that's touching, a realization that the path he's chosen has doomed him and has affected him in ways he could not have anticipated. This makes his yearning to turn over a new leaf all the more poignant. Condon is the perfect counterpoint to him. A force of nature, she is rage personified, yet the character is smart enough to realize the walls are closing in on her. The actress excels during Doireann's introspective moments, the final scene beneath the pair a reckoning that resonates.
Though more low-key in tone than Clint Eastwood's Unforgiven, Saints deals with many of the same issues. Though it satisfies something within our basest nature, acts of violence echo throughout the lives of those that inflict them. The immediate harm is to the victim but for those who succumb to the impulse to harm, especially those who repeat it, scars are inflicted on their psyche that make them nothing more than the walking dead, destined to live an empty life of regret. In theaters.
Find a tight, tricky thriller
Breathing new life into the dark-and-stormy-night trope, Josiah Allen and Indianna Bell's You'll Never Find Me, is a taut film that uses its claustrophobic setting, punctuated by violent weather, to marvelous effect. This two-hander is anchored by great performances from its two leads, as well as a genuinely sinister atmosphere bolstered by complex sound editing and a decidedly dank production design. Along with last year's surprise hit, Talk to Me, this release signals that perhaps a renaissance in low-budget horror is taking place down under.
Patrick (Brendan Rock) seems content to be by himself, at home in a rundown trailer situated in the back of the park. So, when a rain-soaked young woman (Jordan Cowan) knocks on his door as a vicious storm rages, it's not a welcome occurrence. Still, he invites her in, makes her something warm to drink and gets her as comfortable as he can. One would think that he would want to be rid of her as quickly as possible, yet, when she asks if he can give her a ride to town, he says they need to wait until the storm eases. When the power goes out, that only adds to her unease, as does Patrick's intrusive questioning and the various bits of innuendo he drops regarding his past.
What could have been an exercise in tedium proves to be a riveting examination of psychosis. Inconsistencies in the stories each protagonist tells us they are not being honest with each other, but more importantly, they are not being honest with themselves. This also serves to keep the viewer guessing as to the motives of each, though there are clues aplenty as to what's amiss, though their significance only becomes apparent after all is revealed. Of course, nothing is quite what it seems, the film's climax being an out-of-left-field shocker that casts a new light on all previous events.
This is a sly, confident movie that shows Allen and Bell can effectively think outside the box. Rock and Cowan are exceptional, their antagonistic chemistry keeping us hooked throughout. The former effectively mixes menace with vulnerability, keeping us off guard throughout, while the latter exudes a sense of intelligence and strength that helps put both characters on equal footing. The power dynamic between the two characters shifts throughout the movie, these two performers invested in their characters to fascinating effect.
The sound by Olivia Aquilina and Lachlin Harris is the film's secret weapon, the pounding rain, creaking roof and squeaking doors all adding to the ever-mounting sense of dread. This perfectly complements Hannah Sitters' production design, a masterwork of dankness and shadows, which not only suggest the inner workings of Patrick's mind but make the already tight quarters of the trailer seem even smaller. The sense of claustrophobia is hard to shake, especially with the directors' ever-increasing use of tight shots throughout, effectively conveying the wayward visitor's ever-increasing sense of dread.
The film never lags, its trim, tight script a model of narrative efficiency. As for the ending, it's not likely to satisfy all viewers but I found it effective, one my mind has gone back to again and again. The sudden shift in perspective is initially off-putting, but upon reflection, forces us to reassess all that's come before. All in all, You'll Never Find Me is a haunting, exceptional debut for Allen and Bell, which has me eager to see what else they have up their collective sleeves. Streaming on Shudder.
