[yasr_overall_rating]
A traumatized veteran, unafraid of violence, tracks down missing girls for a living. When a job spins out of control, Joe’s nightmares overtake him as a conspiracy is uncovered leading to what may be his death trip or his awakening.
After hearing of this film being barely finished before premiering at Cannes and still receiving a seven-minute standing ovation, I was more than intrigued. Totally in a league of her own, Scottish director Lynne Ramsay is an original filmmaker who employs stark imagery and non-linear storytelling. Her last film, 2011’s ‘We Need to Talk About Kevin’, covered dark subject matter. In that film, Tilda Swinton is a mother witnessing increasing disturbing behavior in her son. The titular ‘Kevin’ becomes more and more aggressive with a climax that ends in disturbing cinematic coup de grâce. “You Were Never Really Here” follows that structure with lingering images of savagery metastasizing into a dark descent filled with brutality and loss.
Joaquin Phoenix has brought to life some of my favorite and the most soul-baring performances over the years. In “You Were Never Really Here,” he portrays a PTSD addled Afghan War Vet named Joe. Joe is a large brute of a man, although sometimes slow-moving, he’s efficient. Introduced in a quiet motel, he’s burning a Polaroid of a young girl, cleaning blood off a Ball Point Hammer, and gathering his minimal belongings in a pillowcase. In the midst of a very fresh crime scene with police cars out front, he ditches the incriminating evidence and slips out the back door undetected. Joe lives with his mother in a modest unchanged New York City home near the river. He’s a loving son that cares for his mother, on his own he’s constantly entertaining death. His morning routines consist of a mix of semi-suicidal asphyxiation play as well as other life-endangering games to feel alive.
On the other hand, Joe is a careful contract killer, accepting payments through distant fiduciaries and calling his handler securely over a payphone. Without spoiling too much, the main targets are members of an elite pedophile ring. Joe is approached by a state senator looking to retrieve his daughter from the nefarious trafficking network. In between jobs, he’s haunted by a series of past events. Ramsay fluidly presents his childhood abuse, the horrors of the Afghan War, and his previous hitman assignments. The onslaught of action is thought out and takes a toll on Joe. Although unrelenting at times, the story doesn’t disparage the cyclical carnage. This is a film that deals cathartically with consequences of murder and trauma.
The sound design is flawless, surging, and at times bizarre. The sound is such a key into Joe’s internal stress and psychosis. In his world, trains and city reverberations swell with acute immersion. Current soundtrack maestro and Radiohead member, Johnny Greenwood, weaves magic with his gorgeous trance thumping, occasionally unsettling score. Besides the original score, the only music heard is from a bygone era, stuck in time like Joe’s home and memories. Ramsay’s film composition is atypical but never too stylized. I’ve seen NYC-based stories countless times but few have stood out like this. The color schemes are eerie greens and vivid reds, each making indelible visuals. Without being too showy, Ramsay captures everything clear and visceral. So much happens within its lean 88 minute runtime and while it’s, at times, disturbing and idiosyncratic, it’s a thrilling treasure.
In theaters Friday, April 13th
