Notable Cast: Mavournee Hazel, Diesel La Torraca, Josh
McConville, Genevieve Lemon, Harry Greenwood, Iolanthe, Glenda Kalyk
I can already see it now. The comments that will cascade
down from the internet as horror fans react to Cruel Hands and its 1970s-inspired
stylistic choices. Comments about how it's ‘not horror enough’ or that ‘it's
not a real horror film’ will garner thousands of reactions and probably just as
many arguments around the spectrum of genre labels.
You know what? Good. Cause quite frankly, Cruel Hands
is the kind of film that will need a bit of online discourse to push it further
into the genre fans’ circles for viewing. Call it what you will, horror,
thriller, dark drama, or whatever other sub-genre you want. This 1970s-inspired
slice of atmospheric tension and visceral domestic horror is worth watching.
It’s one of those palpable, character-driven, slow-burning old-school horror
films that manages to curdle into the crevices of your heart and mind. Powered
by some incredible performances, a steady hand at tone and atmosphere, and a
real sense of grounded grit to its writing, Cruel Hands manages to be
both subtle and impactfully hard-hitting. It’s the kind of throwback film that
should be garnering some real fans when it finds a full release.
A desperate mother, Maria, flees with her young son Dai to
hide out in an empty house off the dirt roads in the country and escape her
violent husband. It’s the kind of setup that could start off a thousand films,
with 80% of them perhaps airing on Lifetime or Hallmark. It’s not like Cruel
Hands is a complicated film. It never even pretends to be, at least
plotwise. It adds in a bit of thrills with two police officers who essentially
stumble into this domestic violence standoff, but it never tries to
overcomplicate things. What it does do is allow debut filmmaker Al Kalyk, who
directs the film and co-writes it with Matthew Kalyk, the freedom to explore
its themes and characters rather than feeling chained to its plot. And it’s a
choice that pays off well in the end.
Set against the background of a series of giant bushfires in
rural Australia and existing in an almost dreamlike world that blends the
70s/80s with now (seriously, the buildings and cars all feel dated, but
characters use cellphones), the film manages to breathe a lot of life into its
story and characters by using its setting remarkably well. There’s a hazy
feeling to everything, and even when the film cuts back to town sequences, the
mandated evacuations make things feel empty or unreal. Enough so that its
dreamlike quality, perhaps nightmare-like considering the subject matter, seeps
into almost everything about the film.
The cast carries the brunt of the film's emotional
resonance, though, particularly since the plotting tends to feel like it's
mostly there to build on the film's themes around the vicious quality of nature
unleashed or how Maria, as a character, feels completely abandoned and alone
with no one to help her as she strives to give her son a better life that he
isn’t even quite old enough to understand yet. Mavournee Hazel, who portrays
Maria, anchors this entire film with a heartbreaking descent from simply scared
to the desperation of a cornered animal, and yet gives the character a humanity
that is never unrecognizable, even as she makes some very questionable
decisions to remain out of reach of her endlessly stalking husband.
Her husband, played by Josh McConville, mostly embodies this
unrelenting force that bludgeons and intimidates his way through all obstacles
to find his fleeing family, and he does so with a screen presence that almost
immediately makes it clear to viewers: this man is unsafe, and you should run.
It’s impressive that, between his stoic and festering performance, and how
Kalyk shoots him, particularly as he monologues in the third act, saying all
the things an abusive family member says to smother fear and hurt, that he
still feels fallible. It’s a tight rope act that works, and it works even
better when it's run parallel to the confusion, innocence, and trauma that
Diesel La Torraca uses to portray the son. The dynamic among the three is
incredibly real and compelling, and it represents the heart of what Cruel
Hands wants to convey as the message of its tale.
The biggest piece of Cruel Hands that will either
work for audiences or not at all is the police presence in the film. While it's
a necessary component to move the narrative forward and offer a bit of hope for
how the film will end, which does go for broke in its standoff between Maria
and her husband amid the flames of a burning forest, it does feel a tad
convenient at times. The two police officers arrive to provide a bit of levity,
particularly in their own banter, and it helps make the film less suffocating.
For me, they are a welcome change of pace and add nicely to the tension the
plot builds in the second act, as some teens discover that people are hiding in
the house. However, I can see some folks rubbing against it, detracting from
the simplicity of its intention.
Still, Kalyk manages to invoke a lot of emotions with Cruel
Hands. It’s a heavy film, dark in its foundations, and shot expertly like a
1970s genre flick you might see at the drive-in. It’s gorgeously shot, and
those hankering for a real film feel will delight in its look and style. It all
adds to its atmosphere and realistic depictions of desperation that the evils
of an abusive family member bring upon their families. With its incredible
performances, gritty tones, and nightmare-like feeling, Cruel Hands is a
genre gem that works incredibly well. Call it horror. Call it a thriller. Call
it dark drama. One thing's for sure, it’s one hell of a debut feature.
No comments:
Post a Comment