St. Anger

He’s been called “a performance artist whose medium is rage,” he has spent 30 of his 35 years in prison in solitary confinement, his reputation includes being Britain’s most violent, most expensive and – his favourite part – most famous inmate. He was born Michael Gordon Peterson, but that’s boring when you’re an ambitious tough guy, so he stuck with the nickname a fight promoter gave him: Charles Bronson. Unlike the late Charles Bronson, famous Hollywood tough guy actor, though, this CB shaves his head, sports a 19^th century era curled moustache and is built like a turn-of-the-century bare knuckles brawler.

You couldn’t ask for a better bio pic subject, so no surprise that said bio pic, Bronson, has been a festival favourite. Last week, here in Toronto, there was an advanced screening in preparation of the film’s limited theatrical release. If you’re like me, you’d consider this movie “a renter” normally, but there are three major reasons to catch this on the big screen.

Firstly, the semi-true story of Peterson/Bronson himself, which is captivating, as the guy seems perfectly happy as an institutionalized danger, having been responsible for numerous assaults, protests, riots and hostage taking incidents over the years. There’s clearly something admirable about the man’s commitment to his lifestyle and jovial take on the whole thing. Here are more facts on the man from U.K. rag The Mirror.

Secondly, there’s Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn, who made a name for himself with the crime saga Pusher trilogy (he also co-wrote Bronson with Brock Norman Brock). Refn takes his biggest cue from A Clockwork Orange, with a touch of Natural Born Killers’ violent-criminals-as-media-celebrities zaniness thrown in. Like Alex (Malcolm McDowell) in the Kubrick film, Bronson (Tom Hardy) has gleefully adopted the Thug Life and wins you over with his charm and charisma, despite being otherwise reprehensible. Also, Bronson similarly uses extreme violence (no rape, though) to play with the viewer’s reaction to the bloodshed – we’re simultaneously attracted to, repulsed by and entertained with the spectacle of violence onscreen.

Refn wisely does like Kubrick did in Clockwork Orange and shies away from realism, stylizing the violence and constantly reminding us that we’re watching a performance by cutting to Hardy in a Vaudeville-type theatre, entertaining an upper crust-type crowd with his brutish tales. This both distances us from the violence, and invites us into Bronson’s circus-like mentality. In keeping with this, there’s an energy to the film that fills the screen – it’s a little big movie.

Thirdly, and most notably me thinks, is Hardy as Bronson. This is a career making performance from an actor who gained something like 100 pounds of muscle (take that DeNiro in Cape Fear), literally bares all and creates the larger-than-prison-life persona needed to make the movie work. Plus that moustache is inarguably amazing. (I sincerely hope the style returns – long live moustache wax!) Hardy’ previous work includes RocknRolla, Layer Cake and Star Trek: Nemesis, as an alien baddie (a bald one, of course). Here, when he’s covered in blood, sweat and filth, eyes crazed, drooling from rage, Hardy looks like G.G. Allin on ‘roids – scary.

But that said, the character is given an artistic side outside of violence (like the real Bronson, he develops an affinity for drawing), a soft spot for women (there seems to be a direct correlation between him failing in a relationship or being rejected and resorting to – no, reveling in – violent criminal activity), and even a couple tender moments where he sheds some tears.

Of course, who’s in it for that? Bronson is all about the meaning of mayhem – the title character treating prison like it was Candyland for someone with a sweet tooth for punches.

You certainly can't say the man hasn't earned his reputation.

 

-Dave Alexander