Dir. Ben Wheatley, UK, 2011, 95mins
Cast: Neil Maskell, MyAnna Buring, Michael Smiley, Emma Fryer
Review by Matthew Rodgers
This could well be one of the most frustrating films you’ll ever see, and reviewing it could also match that experience, due to the potentially spoiler filled minefield of a synopsis. This movie is destined to be a cult classic and the less you know about it the better.
Suburbia is our setting, and the home of a dysfunctional family, who take their emotional beats from Nil By Mouth. Jay (Neil Maskell) is a hitman suffering from some form of post-traumatic stress disorder brought on by a seemingly botched mission a few months back. His lady of luxury wife, Shel (MyAnna Burning) has burnt through the blood money, maxed the credit cards, and the little money remaining has to go on the Jacuzzi installation.
The arrival of partner in crime, Gal (Michael Smiley), brings an opportunity to exorcise some demons and earn some quick Russian cash, as well as introducing the intriguing character of Fiona (Emma Fryer), his new girlfriend, who has an air of alluring mystery to her. Oh, and she carves pagan symbols on the back of mirrors. And that’s all you’re getting.
Kill List is extremely derivative, but its genius lies in the melding of multiple genres to form an original(ish) whole. There are aspects of Tarantino in the way that the single camera conversations unfold, orchestrated by some wonderfully natural dialogue. The assassination expeditions have more than a hint of Twin Peaks or straight faced League of Gentlemen about them. But the real success of Kill List is in its ability to string you along on this confusing, unsettling journey, and make you stick with it to the end, despite the violence, language, and complete and utter bonkers nature of some of it.
So without giving anything away and speaking entirely from a personal perspective, the reason that Kill List fails is that the excellence of the twisted narrative – the way in which Jay’s victims say “thank you” prior to execution is particularly macabre – is completely undone by a ridiculous ending. It’s the kind of ending that has not only been seen in some recent high profile horrors, but is a skewered take on one of the most iconic horror finales of all time. Yes, it’s disturbing stuff, but it doesn’t satisfy or reward you for the intrigue and mystery built up during the preceding ninety minutes. It’s just a bit stupid.
The acting is top notch from the relatively unknown cast, each helping to ground the more obscure aspects of the story. Maskell in particular has the right blend of cheeky chappie and psychotic killer about him, providing the audience with conflicting emotions as to whether to root for him or not.
It’s an impressive calling card for director Wheatley, and is a final reel away from being brilliant, but with such a divisive ending there are bound to be others that will scoff at this criticism (as the star adorned posters will testify). Only good, when it could have been great.
