by Ryan Macdonald

After a two day “break” to work my “regular job”, I slept in and lazily made my way to The Neptune Theater for an afternoon showing of Paddy Considine’s directorial debut, Tyrannosaur, starring Peter Mullen, Olivia Colman, and Eddie Marsan.

You could say this film is about a lot of things. It’s about an angry, awful man coming to terms with his past. It’s about a woman trying to escape an abusive relationship. Forgiveness. Strength. Understanding. Self-imposed pain. At it’s core, however, Tyrannosaur is about the never-ending cycle of domestic violence. And that makes it really hard to watch.

The first scene of this film, Considine makes a bold choice. He decides to show you something that makes you hate the main character. At least it made me hate him. Honestly, that feeling of animosity toward the protagonist (who is also, metaphorically, the antagonist) doesn’t diminish throughout the film. You may come to understand him, but I never actually liked him.

Intense, inexplicable anger followed immediately by remorse and shame, followed immediately by more anger. Joseph (Mullan) goes through this cycle three times before we ever see his real humanity, which comes in the form of a clothing shop worker named Hannah. Angry, bewildered, and scared, Joseph stumbles into the shop and hides in a clothing rack. Instead of shooing him out, Hannah prays for him. In this stunning scene between two strangers, Joseph breaks down and cries silently behind the clothes that separate the characters. Powerful stuff.

Unfortunately, this is immediately and almost completely trivialized when Joseph, after being assaulted by three teenagers he’d beat up the day before, stumbles back to the shop. Over a cup of tea, he proceeds to break down Hannah’s life and her religious beliefs (this is a great exchange. “We’re all children of God.” “God ain’t my fuckin daddy. My daddy was a cunt.”). Lashing out, he thanks her for the tea and leaves her weeping and hurt.

Joseph’s main gripe with Hannah is that she lives a posh, sheltered existence. But we soon find out this isn’t exactly the case. Hannah’s demons manifest in her abusive, sadistic, pathetic husband James (Marsan). Ironically, when this relationship comes to a violent climax, she seeks emotional shelter and physical safety with Joseph; a man with a violent temper, no family, only one friend who happens to be dying, and neighbors whose domestic dynamic mirrors Hannah’s.

As I said, this film is hard to watch. We witness Hannah completely victimized. We see subtle signs that Joseph beat his now-deceased wife. We see the kid across the street - with whom Joseph empathizes and connects - the victim of a weak mother and her abusive, pitbull-training boyfriend. We grimace in disgust as James beats the shit out of Hannah, then comes back crying and saying he prayed for God to take away his “sickness”. This film is, in a word: Brutal.

Peter Mullan and Eddie Marsan are two of my favorite UK actors at the moment. They both pull off these roles like you wouldn’t believe. Marsan, in his limited screen time, is instantly detestable and pathetic, though the mask he wears is a menacing one. Mullan, along with what I assume is some stellar writing by Considine, completely embodies Joseph. Somehow, when the whole picture’s laid out, we can see that Joseph is himself a victim of a violent past who is still mourning his one true love. Simultaneously, he is the only agent for change and the biggest perpetuator of violence in the story. This multilayered, powerful performance couldn’t have been successfully pulled off by many, and I’m sure Mullan sold a piece of his soul to get it right.

Dan Baker and Chris Baldwin provide a score that grates on your nerves and builds uncomfortable tension in exactly the right places. Pia Di Ciaula’s editing is driven by Joseph’s anger and sorrow, slowing down gritty confrontations so we can absorb the emotions, and speeding up moments of humanity so they’re over before we’re ready to let them go.

Considine (writer, Dead Man’s Shoes) proves his proficiency behind the camera by never letting the story, the emotions, or the characters get away from him. In a volatile mix like this, that’s commendable. He’s patient, with a keen sensitivity for when he needs to soften the scene, and when he needs to press it a bit. I’m definitely looking forward to more from him.

There is a wise, beautiful, sad poetry to independent film in the UK. Something at once enticing, repulsive, and powerfully accurate in its depictions of real people and real social problems. Tyrannosaur is an achingly and at times objectionably moving and powerful film about human beings and their breaking points. This can be summed up in Joseph’s telling observations on the pit bull next door: “An animal can only take so much pain and humiliation before it breaks down and bites back.”

FInal Grade: A

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