From the cheesy action films of the 80’s to the modern day oversaturation of the superhero flick, violence has always been a part of our own popular culture. The ways in which violence has been depicted in popular media has varied from excessive to the glorified— and in doing so we as consumers have been actively desensitized to a lot of it. The question as to why we enjoy violence and brutality in our stories can be easily answered as just wanting entertainment—of course the average viewer likes to indulge in a fantasy of power! They get to be the hero who takes down the bad guy! They get to be that cool action star that walks away from the explosion at the climax of the movie, rugged and strong.
But what if there is no explosion?
What if the ‘hero’ of the movie is really just a man stuck in a perpetual cycle of suffering?
The 2005 action thriller A History of Violence follows family man Tom Stall (played by Viggo Mortensen), a diner owner who manages to stop a robbery, becoming a local hero. Tom kills the two thieves who tried to rob the diner, and to spare a recap of the movie, there will be consequences for this singular act of violence.
The film itself begins with the off-screen murder of a maid, and then the off-screen murder of a child! The men who commit this act of violence are the same robbers who Tom kills later on— their deaths jumpstart the plot. There’s already a connection between the murders, starting the film’s long line of deaths. The way in which the film depicts violence is uncomfortable, in the best way possible. The camera refuses to shy away from the brutal nature of its characters, and forces the audience to watch the effect of this type of violence. There’s no satisfaction in watching Tom Stall, whose real name is Joey Cusack, as his life unravels as a result of the violence he indirectly brings to his family. His son, Jack, (played by Ashton Holmes) puts his bully in the hospital a while after Joey first commits murder, and when confronted about it, the exchange between them goes as follows:
“We do not solve our problems by hitting people!”
“No," his son responds. "We shoot them.”
Ironically, this very quote is something I think about when talking about a scene later on in the movie, where Jack actually does shoot a man. The man, Carl Fogarty (played by Ed Harris), was someone who had ties to Joey’s previous life as a criminal. Fogarty was just about to kill Joey, and before he could do complete his task Jack shot him, saving his father's life.
What proceeds is a scene that stuck with me for quite some time.
Jack and Joey exchange no words to one another. There’s complete silence as Joey hugs his son. He’s covered in blood and has been revealed to be a complete stranger to his family. The man has realized there is no escaping his past life; it’s a part of him and it’s a part of his son now, too. His son is a killer, and there is no lie he can try to pass that will be able to take that away. To me, the hug is an apology and a thank you— thank you for saving his life, and an apology for corrupting his son's soul. The film is about the cycle of violence, how that affects people, and how that manifests itself. That being said, though, I find it interesting that in both times Jack uses violence, it’s in retaliation or self defense. Yes, he was wrong to hospitalize his bully; but if Jack hadn’t swung first it’s likely he would’ve been the one to be hospitalized instead. The same goes for killing Fogarty. His father would’ve died otherwise. He would’ve died next, too.
You could almost argue the same should apply to Joey, considering the film itself starts with him killing out of self-defense. But in the scene that follows this one, he admits to his wife Edie in the hospital that he did enjoy killing in his past life. This life of violence is not just self-defense for him, and that’s where the line between Joey and Jack is drawn. Beyond that, more scenes that showcase the toll of violence on these people’s lives are when Joey kills his brother Richie (played by William Hurt) at the end of the film.
Silence is used in the movie to its advantage. I mentioned silence in the scene with Jack and Joey, but it really is all over the film. It emphasizes the discomfort and unease of both situations, making you as the viewer feel as if you’re right there besides the characters. You’ve seen all the horrible things Joey has done, and because of it you’re unable to look at him without feeling this underlying sense of dread. There’s no glamorizing his actions. The cruelty and ease in which he kills people isn’t cool or fun. It’s scary.
In the final scene, Joey comes back home after his confrontation with his brother Richie to sit down and have dinner with his family. He had gone to Philadelphia to kill his brother Richie, returning to his life of crime in full force, back where it all started. You could say killing his brother is his last tie to his criminal origin, and could be a representation of fully separating the past from the present, but that wouldn’t matter here. What truly matters is that there is no undoing anything that Joey has done. His family knows. There is no going back to being Tom Stall; there is no sweeping under the rug here. The violence that his family has witnessed will leave a permanent impression on all of them, and their expressions say as much.
They stare at each other in silence; no words at all are spoken, but everything is conveyed. It’s a quiet acceptance of the horror that Joey has brought into their lives, the horror that was always there. It’s inescapable, and they are all doomed to follow it no matter what occurs. I find a similar feeling is invoked in Richie’s death. Everyone involved always knew "Crazy Fuckin’ Joey" (as he was nicknamed) would likely end up killing poor Richie. The fact that Richie was so quick to turn on Joey and attempt to murder him isn’t even much of a surprise, either. They’ve both always been like this, and to them this is just another murder in a line of many. Who cares if they grew up together? This is how things were always gonna go. Richie even reminisces about how he tried to strangle Joey in his crib, before their mother caught him and "whacked the daylights" out of him. Violence has been a motif in their life since the beginning. Even in their last moments together, the emotion in Richie’s face is not one of shock, anger, desperation, or sadness—it’s a neutral acceptance. Joey shoots him without a second thought, and had the roles been reversed it likely would’ve gone the exact same way.
“Jesus, Joey.”
“Jesus, Richie.”
They both say the same last words to each other.
A History of Violence explores themes of identity and the cycle of violence. It shows how a man’s inability to escape his past destroys everything he has in the present. The question that should then be asked is: what if Joey had been honest from the beginning? Does all of this happen purely because of the fact that he was a criminal in his past life? Is this some type of karmic punishment? What if he had changed for the good? Didn’t he change?
They’re all good questions, but the film makes the answer clear. Joey is the same man he’s always been. The ease in which he kills his brother makes that clear. His one sin is trying to act as if he has changed. When you ignore something, that doesn’t remove the issue. It continues to fester and grow. There is a part of Joey that relishes killing, relishes violence. His family may share that with him, for all we know. The most important bit is that there is no way to undo any of it. Once a life is taken, it’s gone. The film ensures that you linger on that.
As long as there’s men like Joey Cusack out there that indulge in violence but pretend as if they don’t, the cycle of violence will never end.
I think the movie is great. The discomfort I felt at times watching it was crucial to understanding the message behind the film. I would definitely recommend it to anyone who enjoys stories with morally gray/questionable characters. Personally, I’m not much of an action fan myself, but I still found myself enjoying it. This is a story that forces the viewer to think about how they view violence, why they love to see it, what that says about themselves, and the society we currently live in. I think that’s extremely powerful and important.
Annie Coello is a 3rd year 2D animation student at the School of Visual Arts. She enjoys media analysis and being occasionally silly.