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 Bronson is essentially a biopic about a guy named Charles Bronson. Well that’s the name he goes by anyway. His real name is Michael Peterson and he’s notorious for being the most violent criminal in the British prison system. This film, by writer and director Nicolas Winding Refn, follows Peterson’s life as he builds that reputation in various institutions.
The main reason I knew anything about this movie is because Netflix has been pushing it pretty hard. For the last few months it has been prominent among the titles available for streaming that were recommended to me, so I figured I’d give it a try. After all, Refn directed the critically-acclaimed Drive, and Tom Hardy, who it seems has been in every movie - including Inception and the upcoming Dark Knight Rises - this past year or so, plays the title character. That combination of talent, I figured, made Bronson a worthwhile watch. And in the end I guess it was, although it could have been better.
I say that because there was no real story line. No action rising to a climax. No change in character. Everything was static. From the very beginning of the film we know that Peterson, who, by the way, chose the name Charles Bronson as an alter ego of sorts for his days as an underground, bare-knuckle fighter, is crazy and violent. He gets in some fights as a child and keeps on fighting as he grows up. He tried to rob a bank and got put in jail where he repeatedly fights guards and other prisoners. Then he goes to the loony bin where he fights orderlies and other patients. By the end of the film, and after a few too many Tom Hardy dong shots, he’s no more or less crazy or violent.
I get what Refn is doing, though. Having seen Drive, it’s clear what style he’s going for; he’s trying to establish a directorial flair that is his and his alone. He’s not so much concerned about story as he is about being artistic. And that’s fine. That’s why Bronson wasn’t a total letdown. Much like Drive, Bronson has very little dialogue. There’s a lot of suspenseful silence and fancy camera work and lighting techniques backed by synth beats. The majority of the speaking, in fact, comes from soliloquies by Hardy. Every five or 10 minutes the film cuts to Hardy standing on stage, with his face painted in various ways, before a crowd of well-dressed theatergoers. Even these scenes are attempts to be artsy. The best example of which is when he’s explaining a conversation with a nurse at the mental hospital. Half of his face is unpainted and the other half is painted to look like a woman. Hardy turns back and forth, revealing the profile of whoever is talking, the male or the female.
Moments like that make this film all the more strange and therefore not for everyone. If you’re looking for a structured story, Bronson is not for you. But if you are interested in the art of filmmaking than it’s worth a watch. Refn has gained a lot of acclaim for Drive and is poised to become one of the better-known directors of the next decade. And Hardy is one of the more quickly up and coming actors. Why else would he be in every freaking movie? Throughout Bronson, the title character says how he always wanted to be famous. I guess now that there’s a movie about him he got what he wanted. His fame, however, looks like it will be far surpassed by that of the people who made the film. Overall it’s worth of a Queen rating. The British should appreciate that.
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