?Seven Psychopaths? uses both the simplest and most elaborate motions to execute its vision. On one hand, writer-director Martin McDonagh is juggling a back-and-forth between good and bad guys, a raucous comedy, an ongoing mystery as to who the titular ?psychopaths? are, an incisive look into the creative process, and a biting critique of Hollywood cliche & sexism.
On the other hand, there?s cool gunplay and a cute dog.
By spreading its ambitions about as wide as a Tarantino-esque crime comedy will go, it pretty much invites anyone in to relish its pleasures. (Not that people did: as of this writing, its made a pretty dismal $12 million stateside, and so, naturally is no longer in theaters. I write this only out of a fierce sense of loyalty.)
Colin Farrell?s Marty is a struggling screenwriter who needs some strong creative inspiration to knock out his latest script, ?Seven Psychopaths?. First clue as to this film?s intentions: its own screenwriter is named Marty, who reportedly faced strong writer?s block in the years in between this and 2008?s masterful ?In Bruges?. Marty (the character) seems to get some energy from his friendship with Sam Rockwell?s Billy Bickle (second clue: same last name as ?Taxi Driver??s psychopath Travis), an unpredictable, goofy fellow who makes a living kidnapping dogs. Billy does this alongside Hans, a man who stays pleasant despite his cancer-patient wife and shady past.
Things start to go south, though, when Billy swipes the wrong little Shih Tzu: instead of the timid housewife he was targeting, he swipes the dog of Charlie Costello (Woody Harrelson, continuing a bright streak of roles), who happens to be Los Angeles?s loosest, wildest mobster. Costello starts to gun for those responsible, putting Marty smack in the middle of a near-war. All he wanted to do was write a damn movie.
All the while, as this goes on, Marty and Billy start conducting ?psychopath? auditions so that loose-cannons can share their stories for the film. This proves to be one of the film?s most inspired conceits, as watching who exactly the title?s ?seven psychopaths?, both in Marty?s (character) script and in Marty?s (real-life) film is a sly, slick delight that rewards as it confounds. The cast, littered with top-notch names, has four performances that would run away stealing 95% of other movies. However, in McDonagh?s world, they?re just another mouth. Business as usual. I love it.
These four: the previously-mentioned Farrell, Rockwell, Harrelson, and Walken annihilate their respective parts. Bouncing back from this year?s disgusting ?Total Recall? remake, Colin Farrell re-presents his argument for why he should be atop the A-list. Jittery, nervous, and very very profane, he?s a relatable protagonist with a shade of grey. Ditto for Sam Rockwell, spending most of his screentime with a goofy animal beanie on his head and a gun in his hand. As certain revelations come to light about his character, he only gets wilder and more amusing. But Christopher Walken, man?
Given that he?s spent most of his career hanging around the directors that directly inspired ?Seven Psychopaths? (Tarantino in ?Pulp Fiction?, the late, great Tony Scott in ?Domino?), Walken?s presence in this only cements its status as a spiritual cousin to some of the great, poppy crime capers of our time. The fact that he hammers out truly great work, rather than coasting on his offbeat image, feels only like bonus points. He has a haunting, sinister edge even as he adorably cuddles with a puppy and talks about God. When was the last time a screen legend tinkered with his persona like this?
Watching ?Seven Psychopaths? can be an exhausting experience, but only in the sense that one needs a notebook to jot down all the lines that deserve to be on a T-shirt or the scenes that demand their own poster. This is a film that, for all of its violence and chaos, is strongly calculated and crisply executed. Listening to these characters talk about how women are greatly under-served by American movies, when there are roughly two female speaking-roles in the film? No accident. A scene where they discuss the idiocy of final Hollywood shoot-outs taking place in a desert, only for the film to conclude in the Californian wilds? Neither is that. McDonagh is biting the hand that feeds. I can?t see a film of his getting off the ground for a few years. But this man is two for two in his oeuvre, and if he continues to make films as dizzyingly articulate as ?Seven Psychopaths?, I can?t see that streak breaking.?A-
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Source: http://ryanthemoviecritic.com/2012/11/05/seven-psychopaths-a-densely-packed-blood-soaked-delight/
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