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ARTS AND CULTURE

The morality of violent films

  • 19 August 2010

The Killer Inside Me (R). Director: Michael Winterbottom. Starring: Casey Affleck, Jessica Alba, Kate Hudson, Ned Beatty. 98 minutes

'I wanted to show that if you choose to kill someone by punching them, it's a long, slow, difficult process,' UK filmmaker Michael Winterbottom told The Guardian's Rachel Cooke. 'Also, I want you to have the space to think about what's going on. Why is he doing this when he loves her?'

The controversial and prolific Winterbottom is referring to a gruelling scene from his latest film The Killer Inside Me, in which one of the female characters, Joyce (Alba), is pummelled nearly to death by the gloved hands of her lover, charming sociopath Deputy Sheriff Lou Ford (Affleck). It is a scene of shocking, visceral violence, which has produced anguished, even angry, audience reactions during festival screenings around the world.

Was it necessary? When it comes to gratuitous content, 'necessary' is always a debatable term. But certainly, as evidenced by the above quote, the scene is not thoughtless.

In his previous films such as Guantanamo torture film Road to Guantanamo and the pornographic relationship drama 9 Songs Winterbottom has shown himself to be a filmmaker who does not exploit  disturbing content thoughtlessly. Such content is at least bolstered by a well thought-through premise, although it is not to Winterbottom's credit that his intelligent intent can be overshadowed by the gratuitousness. The Killer Inside Me falls into this category.

The film is a portrait of Lou and his psychopathy. His violence against Joyce is one aspect of an elaborate scheme designed to mete revenge upon an unknowing nemesis (Beatty). The remainder of the film details further acts of violence (none quite as shocking as the first) and manipulation as Lou attempts to elude suspicion, and as his mental state deteriorates. Flashbacks to an abusive relationship with his mother, and to an act of childhood abuse against a young girl, hint at an origin to his illness.

The film is commended by a classy noir sensibility and intense performances. But it is also cold and, in parts, patchy and confusing, which is one reason why the scenes of extreme violence don't quite stand up to scrutiny.

Lou's perennially calm voiceover indicates a first-person perspective that reflects Jim Thompson's 1952 novel on which the film is based, and which hints at subjectivity. The unlikely extent to which Joyce, and Lou's girlfriend, Amy (Hudson), are shown to enjoy their sado-masochistic sexual encounters with