When someone mentions David Cronenberg, the majority probably think of his body horror efforts. Twisted, strange, unsettling sequences that stretch the imagination with extreme and disturbing special effects. However, Cronenberg occasionally swings from the surreal to the hyper-real, telling stories that explore the dark, hidden heart of humanity, and while there is gore, it is more the icing than the cake itself.

A History Of Violence opens with two men (Stephen McHattie and Greg Bryk) leaving a remote motel. There are no cuts as we see them coming and going from the buildings in the background. We then follow one of them inside, where he kills the final witness. A crying child. When these men reach Stall's Diner, owned by Tom Stall (Viggo Mortensen), we know immediately that this is not going to end well. These men apparently can't go anywhere without leaving bodies in their wake, but unfortunately for them, Tom is more than they reckoned with. He dispatches the two attackers, saving his staff, other customers, and getting himself on the news in the process. 

Elsewhere, Carl Fogerty (Ed Harris) sees this and recognises Tom, determined to out the past that he has kept secret and return him to Philadelphia to face his brother, and his violent history. 

A History Of Violence, for all its bloodshed, primarily focuses on the family at the centre of the story. It's difficult not to feel empathy for Tom as he looks at his wife (Maria Bello) and two children (Ashton Holmes and Heidi Hayes), and slowly crumbles as he sees their growing corruption. A story told almost entirely through interactions with little dialogue. There are looks, tears, and moments of physical contact that tell you everything you need to know. The lack of pomp in the more violent scenes, and the consistency in Mortensen's performance help to anchor him as clearly the same man, forced into the situation he has been trying to escape. He hasn't been hiding, the family man is who he really is. He might have a particular set of skills but he is incredibly reluctant to use them, and that is made abundantly clear. 

Cronenberg's direction is restrained, at times perhaps to a fault. So simplistic as to feel a bit like a TV movie, however, this feels intentional. Extended, modestly angled takes of facial reactions evolving, and limited cutaways place the viewer in the room with both violent and emotive scenes. It skirts the line between feeling wooden and hyper-realistic, never really deciding where to land. Despite this, A History Of Violence extends its hand to the viewer, pulling them in and never letting go.  

Director-approved 4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray Special Edition Features

Podcast