In its intention to explore the mind of a serial killer and
the societal atmosphere he lives in, one that prepares him to commit gruesome
crimes, movies mistakenly tend to lessen the impact of the crime, or even worse, it
glamorizes the violence. Australian film-maker Ben Young’s feature-film debut
Hounds of Love (2016) doesn’t make those grave errors. It’s more about the
psychology of people committing such brutal acts than being a visceral
presentation of brutality. In Hounds of Love, Ben Young focuses on a quite
simple-looking suburban couple; on their symbiotic relationship. The shock
comes from what these couples do. The ‘how’ is only suggested (left to our
imagination), yet the uncompromising presentation of the two characters and
their terrifying performances are disturbing enough, providing none of the
catharsis through bloody violence.
Ben Young has cited that his mom, who writes crime fiction,
as the source of inspiration for this story. He borrowed her book on female
serial killers and found within the stories of couples killing together. The script
and the character psychology are based on different 'couple' serial killers.
Director Young also decided to set the film in 1980s to subvert the presence
of contemporary technological devices and these suburbs from the 80s has a
bland, wasteland looks to it. Hounds of Love opens in Western Perth in the year
1987 (in the 1980s Perth couples David and Catherine Birnie killed four young
women between age 15 and 30). The opening sequence announces Young’s keen
directorial abilities. In the extreme slow-motion opening shot, there’s
closeups of school girls playing ‘Netball’. The perverse gaze of the
voyeuristic camera is centered on the girls’ torsos and we come to realization
that the vile gaze is that of a man sitting inside a nondescript car, waiting
for a target. The seemingly affable couple successfully lures one girl, walking home in the
punishing summer heat, into their car. The teen is taken to the
couples’ bland suburban dwelling, tied to a bed, raped, tortured, and after eating
the breakfast next day, the man kills the girl and buries the corpse.
The predatory eyes that chose the ‘target’ and one which
seemed gentle enough for the teenager to get inside the car belongs to John
(Stephen Curry) and Evelyn (Emma Booth). Director Young doesn’t give away
graphic details of the killing. He simply shows boarded-up window, closed door,
and bruised hands tied to a chain to grimly suggest the fate of the girl. The
visuals simply focus on how these couples go through the motions, before and
after committing the cruel act. It’s like a routine thing, devoid of emotions;
similar to some people switching on TV after long day of work, and impassively looking at
the images floating on the screen. Few streets away from John and Evelyn live
the rebellious 17 year old girl Vicki (Ashleigh Cummings). She has come to
spend the weekend with the mother (Susie Porter), whom she hates for leaving
her and the father. When mother grounds Vicki for the night, she sneaks out her
room’s window. En-route to a party, Vicki encounters the dangerous couples, who
promises pot if she comes to their house for a fleeting minute (as a couple
they seem more trustworthy). Drugged and chained to a bed, Vicki later witnesses and
desperately tries to exploit the dynamic dysfunctional relationship between
John and Evelyn in order to escape.
Spoilers Ahead..............
As I mentioned earlier, much of the unforgivable crimes take
place off-screen. Writer/director Young is interested in exploring the
manipulator-manipulated status between John and Evie. John is a walking
time-bomb, while Evie is a very vulnerable woman. She is profoundly manipulated
by John so as to succumb to his loathsome desires. He also gradually erases her
identities (particularly the identity of mother – Evie's two children are
detained, may be due to John’s pedophilia) to make her feel that life isn’t
possible without him. All she experiences is the twisted sense of love, which
John showers upon her, by allowing participation in his deviant sexual acts.
For Evelyn, the fact that John dismembers the girls after sex proves she is the
only love in his life (a twisted way of reasoning indeed). The central conflict
arises when John finds Vicki attractive to try and solely violate her. Naturally,
Evelyn finds this unbearable. The way Young explores this abusive relationship
makes strong thematic statements on the dark side of love, domestic violence,
and ingrained misogyny. But most importantly, despite spending quite a lot of
time on Evelyn’s perspective, Young doesn’t try to minimize her status of an
accomplice; or bestows her character a sudden change of mind. Evelyn remains
truly remains disturbing to the end, because John is driven by a very sick
mindset, while Evelyn has done it for her idea of ‘love’. Vicki’s character is
written as much more than rebellious-teen-turned-victim. Both her determination
to outsmart her captors and the sense of utter hopelessness is inquired
equally. The precarious relationship between Vicki and her mother isn’t fully
developed. But I liked how the mother character strongly comes back into the
narrative (towards the end), who unlike others believes that her daughter could
be found. Moreover, Vicki’s freedom eventually rests on her mother’s belief.
The faded-out color palette and the dingy neighborhood with
sinister goings behind white picket fence and closed doors reflect Lynchian
imagery. The co-existence of depravity and the mundane life reminds us of the
opening sequence in Lynch’s Blue Velvet. Nevertheless, Ben Young’s visual
sharpness doesn’t boast heightened reality or surreality of Lynch. The visuals
stresses on the dichotomy: the presence of monstrosity within ordinary. The
setting also brings to mind the other two excellent Australian crime films
(both based on true events) – David Michod’s Animal Kingdom (2010) and Justin
Kurzel’s Snowtown (2011). There’s something Kubrickian in the way Young uses
music to not only place us in the era, but also exhibit the jarring mindset of
the dysfunctional couples (similar to the use of Singin’ in the Rain song in ‘A
Clockwork Orange’). Perhaps, the best thing about Young’s direction is making
us fully grasp John and Evie’s mental sickness without ever unfurling the
details of their actions (the scene when John kicks at the dog is truly
horrific although the frame only captures his face). Emma Booth and Stephen
Curry are brilliant as the central pair. Curry, who is a well-praised comedy
actor, is cast against type. He gracefully wears the mask of loving husband,
while also tearing it up to some pretty brutal things. Booth magnificently
showcases her inner turmoil, convincingly moving between the roles of victim
and victimizer. Cummings is courageous
to accept the role of emotionally and physically battered Vicki and she wholly
traumatizes us.
Trailer
Hounds of Love (108
minutes) subvert the usual serial-killer theme trappings to offer a genuinely
chilling film experience. Deubutant film-maker Ben Young’s remarkable film-form
and the riveting performances perfectly achieve the task of disturbing the hell
out of us.
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