We Need to Talk About Kevin - directed by Lynne Ramsey - is a gloriously nihilistic parable of parenthood, unafraid to ask some unsettling questions about the complex relationship between a parent and their children. What responsibility does a parent have for the actions of their offspring? Is a parent's love unconditional? Of course, this film offers an extreme example, but it strikes me as coming very close to unearthing some of the deepest darkest fears of every parent.
The film is structured without any discernible pattern - jumping from past to present - adding to the spiky sense of disquiet that is present throughout. We cut between the aftermath of some terrible unknown, following the gaunt ghost-like figure that is Eva - the titular Kevin's mother - and three stages of Kevin's childhood, seen through the eyes of Eva. This disordered structure reflects the bewilderment of Eva's emotionally battered psyche, still seemingly incapacitated by the trauma inflicted by Kevin.
The visuals of the first portion of the film are stained red, aptly foreshadowing the bloodshed that is to come. Eva scrubs at red paint left on her house, bathes in a sea of tomato pulp at some sort of festival, and wakes up to a room tinged red by the light streaming through her curtains. This bold visual metaphor paints Eva as a woman full of guilt for what has happened - the blood is on her hands - a woman forever tainted by her role in what Kevin did.
As the sequences showing Kevin's upbringing are show in conjunction with what we come to learn must be the aftermath of something he has done, we see his development in a completely different light. Actions that would ordinarily be dismissed as harmless are laced with a more sinister edge. Our understanding that something bad is to come gives the film an irrepressible momentum that is central to its effectiveness. Observing the intricacies of Kevin's development is grimly compelling; as we watch the slow but sure progression towards the climax with morbid curiosity, the inevitability of the impending doom is gripping.
Just as enthralling is Swinton's portrayal of Eva's deterioration. She treats her impulsively satanic child with artificial affection that he sees right through. The film is full of excellent sequences detailing their extraordinary relationship as Kevin appears to purposely act badly in a perverse mission to spite her. He refuses to speak and deliberately soils his pants, cruelly toying with her emotions. Kevin is exhaustive; even resorting to what seems to be contrived good will towards his father, played with breezy optimism by John C. Reilly. The way in which Swinton portrays Eva's growing disbelief at the completeness of her son's hatred towards her is inspired; as his evil becomes apparent, she sinks into her self, painting a picture of a woman worn thin.
The film also plays as an excellently subtle denouncement of a middle class obsession with the appearance of happiness. It works in the tradition of other excellent films - American Beauty, Donnie Darko and Blue Velvet come to mind - exploring the unease that bubbles beneath the false suburban idyll that the characters attempt to create. A veneer of respectability is maintained at all costs, epitomised by the father's detached lightheartedness. They avoid the reality of their situation throughout, preferring to blindly search for some domestic utopia. After all, they never talk about Kevin.
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