Fantastic Fest 2011 Review: We Need to Talk About Kevin
by Britt Hayes
What do you do when your son is an irredeemable, manipulative, and dangerous human being, but the only person who can see it is you? In Lynne Ramsay’s latest film, We Need to Talk About Kevin (based on the novel of the same name), Eva (Tilda Swinton) and Franklin (John C. Reilly) are the parents of the titular Kevin (Ezra Miller). Prior to Kevin’s conception and birth, Eva was a world explorer and free spirited woman; upon conceiving Kevin she immediately resents his presence before he’s even born. She makes no effort to hide this resentment, even lamenting the loss of her freedom to him aloud as an infant.
As Kevin grows, he’s deliberately quiet and willfully difficult. He won’t communicate or cooperate with Eva in his learning development, especially concerning his toilet training. He plays the ends against the middle with Eva and Franklin, showing disdain and cruelty toward Eva and normal, wholesome warmth toward Franklin. When Eva conceives again — this time a little girl — she feels that it’s an opportunity to start over with her family. There are even moments when Kevin is weak and shuns Franklin in favor of Eva, but why?
Ultimately, the film displays a subtle parallel between Eva and Kevin — they are incredibly similar in their lack of emotion, and one gets the feeling that if Eva’s childhood had gone just slightly differently, she might have turned into the monster that Kevin eventually, and tragically, becomes. She looks at him startlingly, but it’s almost as if she’s looking at herself through the lens of another human being. This isn’t an uncommon experience for a mother, but in this instance, with a child so cold and manipulative, the depth is palpable.
We Need to Talk About Kevin is told disjointedly, framed against the present day as Eva deals with the aftermath of her son’s crime. Scenes from Kevin’s childhood and the moments leading up to and surrounding the exacting of his ultimate transgression are interlaced with heart-wrenching displays of animosity between mother and son. Ramsay presents the film in strong, clinical whites and rich reds, intimating a chilling sense of danger — and though the film doesn’t shy away from exposing the climax early, Ramsay crafts twists and turns with her silent precision, and the echoes of emotional wreckage are felt in whispers in the sparse, negative space.
If there’s any message to be taken from We Need to Talk About Kevin, it’s that tangible, tenuous connections can exist even in the darkest, most manic relationships. Although Eva and Kevin harbor resentment toward one another — was it born out of an innate infant awareness of his mother’s acrimony or is Kevin’s maliciousness more organic — there are ties that bind them that go beyond genetics. We Need to Talk About Kevin does fine work of exploring nature vs. nurture and hereditary mental disturbances, and as such, it’s a gut-wrenching, powerful rumination on parenthood in the face of tragedy.
Tilda Swinton gives an effectual and potent performance, displaying her emotions like subtly shifting tides. Reilly isn’t given much to work with, but his scenes with Miller are effective even in things left unsaid. Although this is definitely Swinton’s film (and will no doubt earn her an Oscar nod), Ezra Miller is nothing short of stunning and enigmatic, portraying the deeply disturbed Kevin with pitch-perfect severity; he’s at once both venomous and ambiguously alarming.
Existing as part emotional horror and part psycho-drama, We Need to Talk About Kevin also functions as an ardent act of terrorism on the psyche. Distressing, cerebral, and emotionally draining, it’s a film that stirs an intense, unsettling reaction from the viewer — unrelenting in its portrayal of a mother-son dynamic and eminently beautiful in its ferocity. We Need to Talk About Kevin is easily one of the strongest films this year.
