In the first fifteen minutes of "A History of Violence," we get a small town diner, a baseball game, and a sneering, varsity letter-wearing high school bully. Throw in an apple pie on a window sill and some kids saying bedtime prayers, and you've got the Saturday Evening Post. But this is the work of David Cronenberg, whose films so often explore the blurry – and icky – lines between biology and technology. So it's not surprising when this film, too, heads for the gray areas, this time between the sensibilities of Rockwell and Tarantino.
Small town diner owner Tom Stalls (Viggo Mortenson) runs the kind of place where you can eat at the counter, and "see you in church" is a standard goodbye. When he single-handedly foils a robbery and saves a few lives, then, the townsfolk are impressed and grateful, but not all that surprised. Tom is a Man, after all, and that's what Men do. But as David Lynch has taught us, pastoral postcard America often conceals deep weirdness and violence. The diner incident is of course big news in Anytown, USA, and Tom finds himself attracting not only local reporters who want to know "how it felt," but also the Reservoir Dog-type Mr. Foggerty (Ed Harris), who isn't surprised that Tom knows his way around a gun, and waxes nostalgic about good times in Philadelphia involving barbed wire and a guy named Joey Cusack. Foggerty seems to think Tom knows exactly what he's talking about.
Tom as "local hero" his family can handle, but after the Foggerty matter comes to a head, they do begin to wonder where these moves that would make Jeff Speakman proud are coming from. Perhaps more unsettling is the fact that they unconsciously sort of get off on their new image of dad. Junior soon finds in himself the will to flatten his jock tormentor, and wife Edie (Maria Bello) with some gusto acts out a rough rape fantasy with her hubby. Tom Stalls, indeed, but can't prevent the inevitable truth from coming to light nor catching up with him. That's shocking enough to his family, though maybe less so than the ways that knowledge affects them.
"A History of Violence" is fond of feinting toward familiar territory, only to veer away. Just when we think we've seen if before, in "Natural Born Killers," "Cape Fear," and the "just when I think I'm out, they pull me back in" tropes of countless mob flicks, it shifts its focus. For all its brutality, it comes across as a quiet movie. There is indeed more to Tom than he lets on, but less than his detractors might believe. He may be a liar in the strictest sense, but his protestations to his family and persecutors are sincere. The contemplation of violence, both pre and post-facto, rather than the acts themselves, drive the film. Whether the capability for, and indeed commission of, such acts permanently defines a person is left for us to decide. The film ends ensconced once again in small town tranquility, though this time seething with unspoken fear, accusations, and uncertainty. "A History of Violence" doesn't force itself with preaching or moralizing, but simply unfolds. It's another solid offering from the strong career of David Cronenberg.
