History Of Violence

That David Cronenberg, he likes films with plenty of sexual depravity, extreme violence, a gloopy melding of flesh fusing with technology and fantasy crashing into reality.

It's fair to say, he's not the kind of fella you would expect to make a mainstream crowd-pleaser.

But what's this? A classic story of a good man with a shadowy past fighting a lone battle against gun-toting bad guys - you can't get a more classic set-up than that.

So has old Croney gone soft? Have all those years of mutant flies, exploding heads and car-crash sexual gratification made him pine for a bit of straight-laced storytelling? Don't be daft.

On the surface, A History Of Violence is your typical goodies-versus-baddies tale but sit down expecting just that and you will have the rug pulled out from beneath you faster than you can say, "Oy, I was sitting on that".

Tom Stall (Mortenson) is a nice bloke living with a nice family in a nice town, until one night his nice life is turned upside down as he is forced to unleash lethal prejudice upon two would-be robbers.

Thrust into the limelight as a have-a-go hero, Tom soon finds the unwelcome attention heralds the arrival of a heavily- scarred gangster (Harris) who is convinced the genial family man is hiding a really big and oh-so dark secret.

As said, it doesn't sound too complex but like an onion packing an Uzi, it's got many layers and they're all nasty.

On one level, it's about the nature of identity and embracing one's past.

On another, it's a delve into the cracks which lie beneath the facade of small-town American life.

But what it's mostly about is violence - short, sharp, realistic, destructive violence. No slow motion here, no big bangs and no bullet-proof action hero, Cronenburg's hook is to make every act of savagery deeply troubling.

From Tom's lethal self-defence to his teenage son's lashing out at school bullies, each punch, kick and bullet makes its mark on the audience.

But what's even more surprising is the fact that every extreme act is defensible. So what we've got is an audience which is horrified by the gut-wrenching ass-kickery, yet undeniably attracted to it.

By making us whoop, the director coerces us into becoming complicit with the on-screen carnage.

It's a dirty trick which plays with the mind - but it is brilliantly executed and undeniably effective.

Now who said Cronenburg was going soft?