A History of Violence Showcases The Best Traits of Cronenberg and Mortensen

Director David Cronenberg has always been fascinated by human beings transforming himself. In his first two decades of filmmaking, this fascination took on the form of gruesome body horror titles like Videodrome and The Fly. In these movies, the way human beings modified themselves (either willingly or unwillingly) were given a physical and gnarly form. Despite their inherently stylized nature, these manifestations could still be rooted in real-world parallels, such as with The Fly and its connections to the AIDS crisis. In the 21st-century, Cronenberg has opted more for restrained and realistic works rather than ones rooted in science-fiction but the way he can deliver a captivating exploration of people changing themselves has remained constant.


With A History of Violence, Cronenberg gets to explore the thesis of his filmography with the story of Tom Stall (Viggo Mortensen), a diner manager who lives a quiet life in the town of Millbrook, Indiana with his wife Edie Stall (Maria Bello), son Jack Stall (Ashton Holmes doing his best Jesse Eisenberg) and young daughter Sarah Stall (Heidi Hayes). All of that tranquility gets upended when Tom becomes a hero after gruesomely dispatching two threatening mobsters in his diner. Suddenly, Tom's face is everywhere on the news. That attracts everybody's attention including gangster Carl Fogarty (Ed Harris), who shows up in Stall's diner calling Stall by the name Joey Cusack. Stall insists to Fogarty that he has no clue who this Joey Cusack is. Fogarty feels otherwise.

Fogarty believes Tom Stall to be a notorious gangster named Joey Cusack, a vicious killer and also the younger brother to prolific crime figure Richie Cusack (William Hurt). Tom Stall's perfectly-knit life is about to come crashing down and Josh Olson's screenplay creates crackling drama out of watching all of the pieces gradually crumbling. His script is impeccably-executed thanks to the participation of artists who are exceptionally versatile. David Cronenberg's direction and Viggo Mortensen's lead performance are able to sell the town of Millbrook and the character of Tom Stall, respectively, as convincing portraits of rural Americana bliss, there isn't even a trace of a tongue-in-cheek quality to these elements.

Instead, Cronenberg and Mortensen create a believable milieu of easygoing diners and sweet small-town romances, one where even a kid that bullies Jack feels more like an annoying punk rather than some deeply disturbed individual. Through this approach, the subsequent violence and suspense serve as an appropriately jarring intrusion on the status quo (though a grim prologue does establish that violence can and will happen in this world). As Tom and Edie both become more frantic trying to deal with the mobsters that won't leave them alone, we can see the "normal" world they'd previously built for themselves slipping away. Whatever happens, even if they win against Fogarty and his cronies, A History of Violence makes it apparent that the previous status quo can never be regained.

This is a uniquely haunting quality of Olson's script but one of the best aspects of his writing actually reminded me of the final season of BoJack Horseman. Much like the last season of that TV show, A History of Violence deals with a guy who thought his past was behind him. Both entities feature protagonists who have started their own new lives when suddenly, the past comes crashing back into their respective existences. Both productions also get into the nitty-gritty of what happens to their respective protagonists when the past resources, specifically in regards to how they may have changed far less than they thought. In the case of Tom Stall, his violent tendencies are returning to such a prominent degree that even his own son is beginning to exhibit an inclination for resolving conflict through his fists.

Much like BoJack Horseman's last season, A History of Violence examines a supposedly reformed man who must now grapple with the consequences of a past he's tried so hard to outrun. Properly exploring that requires a lead performer who can handle two very different sides of Tom Stall and Viggo Mortensen is just the man for the gig. We've all had our chuckles over him eating pizza sideways in Green Book (myself included), but there's no denying Mortensen has a gift for transformative performances that can truly range all over the map. Who could imagine that Aragorn from Lord of the Rings could also be The Man in John Hillcoat's haunting adaptation of The Road?

That gift for versatility is put to perfect use here as Mortensen is able to lend equal levels of conviction to both the Tom Stall and Joey Cusack sides of A History of Violence's protagonist. The first time he shifts from Stall to Cusack, Mortensen's eyes alone can convey a transformation as extreme as the one Jeff Goldblum went through in The Fly. Mortensen manages to make a whole new human being emerge while also making it eerily close to the supposedly serene diner manager we've been following up to this point. Impressively, Mortensen is able to capture these disparate sides of Tom Stall, as well any other aspect of the character, in such subtle ways. This is exemplified by a dialogue-free ending where he returns to his family after a grisly showdown. Nobody speaks a word but the facial expressions of the four people and the heavy shadows in the background make it clear: nothing will ever be the same again. It's a perfectly haunting way for A History of Violence to close out its story.