Seven Psychopaths

Seven Psychopaths just by the skin of its teeth manages to pull off its concept and be a lot of fun, and that’s because it’s a comedy. If this had been presented without all the jokes, it would have been the sort of film I really dislike – trendy-trendy Tarrantino derivatives with the tired, deeply deeply lazy conceit of being about a screenwriter trying to write a film. I hate screenplays about screenwriters writing, possibly making allowances for Charlie Kaufmann doing it but in general finding it highly irritating – and it’s the centre of the plot here. Possibly I’d give the same leeway to Martin McDonagh if I’d seen In Bruges, but I didn’t catch it, so this was my first impression of him. The meta concept is supposed to give a sense of credence, much like books that pretend they’re written by the main character, but in film it only has a distancing effect.

Alcoholic Irish screenwriter Marty needs inspiration for his screenplay, Seven Psychopaths, as he just gets drunk all the time and rips off his friend Billy’s ideas. Billy is involved with a ridiculous scam led by an older Polish gentleman called Hans, in which the two of them kidnap dogs for a few days, answer the ads and collect the reward. To help Marty along, Billy puts an ad in the paper asking for psychopaths to get in touch to share their stories, and while that leads to a disturbing encounter, they have much bigger problems because one of the kidnapped dogs belongs to a mafia boss who wants it back at any costs.

The set-up isn’t terrible, but much of the early development is. It’s painfully obvious who the psychopath with the jack of diamonds calling card is, and it doesn’t make sense that he’s two of the titular seven. The line between comedy and drama is deftly toed everywhere but with the mafia guys, who are too cartoony. And honestly, it’s just not very interesting, with vague ideas about psychopaths thrown around and occasionally enacted – there’s one idea about a Vietnamese guy who’s going to take revenge for war atrocities, and another stolen from Billy about a quaker who stalks his daughter’s killer, which of course neatly gets referred to again later.

The film rests, though, on two brilliant asides and a strong ending that mixes anticlimax, dryness and traditional action payoffs very nicely. The first aside is with Tom Waits’ character Zachariah, who goes everywhere carrying a white rabbit, telling the story of himself and his lover travelling the country as serial killers who hunt down and kill serial killers. When Tom Waits’ character is too horrified by the burning to death of the Zodiac Killer, they part, and he’s been searching for her ever since. The time and place the character reappears can be seen coming a mile off, but it is still quite brilliant, Waits’ inimical voice relates the tale perfectly and his presence here is worth the price of admission alone.

The second aside is Billy’s concept of how the film should be, an incredibly stupid shoot-out in a graveyard full of melodrama and absurdity. What makes it work is that it’s all filmed, done with a great seriousness by the actors, with every stupid twist enacted and every ridiculously violent moment realized. It’s easily one of the funniest scenes in any film I’ve ever seen, and is all the better for the contrast with the understated, wry humour elsewhere.

At the end, the neat way the ends are tied up is very nice. I was cynical about the Vietnamese man’s story, and it really only works because of how it’s delivered, but it does work, in the end. Hans’ stand-off with the mobsters, where he undercuts their schtick with wonderful deadpan responses, couldn’t have worked better. Loved it.

And no review of this film could be complete without mention of its fantastic cast. This ensemble is absolutely sublime, and Tom Waits is really the icing on an exceedingly tasty cake. Colin Farrell does bewildered and hapless yet likeable far better than expected, and Christopher Walken brings such measured gravitas to what is after all a role that oscillates between awesome and pathetic, and embodies a man so very different from his usual characters sublimely. Sam Rockwell, who despite loving him in Moon and enjoying in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy I had hitherto paid little attention to, certainly distinguished himself this time, with a bravura performance balancing madness and goofy simplicity in a compelling, fascinating and rather unsettling way without ever being unbelievable – just the sort of role someone like him needs to stand out. And then there’s Woody Harrelson, whose character is simple on the surface but probably the hardest of any of them to make work in the film, being at once logical and precise, unhinged and unpredictable and also motivated by a rather daft love of his doggie. They all spark off each other, and it’s fascinating to watch it all work.

Arguably it shouldn’t work. It should annoy me. But largely thanks to the cast, it doesn’t. They are very enjoyable to watch.