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In Bruges

(2009; Dir. and Screenplay Martin McDonagh)

Ever since 2003, when I saw the original production of The Pillowman on stage at the National Theatre, I have been a fan of Martin McDonagh's work. I had known about his first feature film, In Bruges, about a year before eventually seeing it. All I knew was that it had Colin Farrell, Brendan Gleeson and Ralph Fiennes in it: a cast which seemed intriguing not least for the very different kinds of actor I had thought of each of them to be.

Although the supporting cast is excellent – I’ve never seen a film in which I’ve laughed out loud to lines spoken by American dwarves and fat Belgians – the three principals are simply superb in their own charming ways. Farrell is surprisingly charming as the ingénue hit man (now there’s a juxtaposition), and Gleeson is wonderfully stoic as his older and more world-weary partner; but the award for sheer absurd fearsomeness goes undisputedly to Ralph Fiennes as Harry, a lyrical, witty, yet totally psychotic gang boss who turns up halfway through the story when his plan goes awry.

With the exception of Ben Kingsley’s turn as Don in Sexy Beast with Ray Winstone, I have never seen such a dangerous display of barely-controlled fury in a character in recent British film. Interestingly, both Fiennes and Kingsley are key names in that group of British actors who have made it in Hollywood for their ability to play calm, intelligent and above all philanthropic men on screen, specifically for such roles as Count László de Almássy in The English Patient and Mahatma Ghandi in Ghandi. These two actors are known and respected for such roles. However, true to their craft, they have stretched their ranges and challenged their audience’s expectations by playing loveable but ultimately nasty characters.

In Fiennes’ case, Harry is pretty much despicable. Nonetheless, he is so wonderfully petty and ridiculous that we feel safe laughing at him as an audience, even though one might consider it foolish to even look the character in the eye if encountering him in real life. And that is where the marriage of good character-based writing and acting works so well. McDonagh, known for his jet black, incisive humour, provides Fiennes with a fully-fledged psychopath who has no compunctions towards killing for a living, but will demand other characters not to insult his children and refuses to kill a friend even though the latter has disobeyed his orders (having said that, he does shoot his friend in the foot as opposed to the head, since he can’t let him get off completely).

The script in general is filled with witty one-liners, responses, exchanges and short monologues which tap deep into the darker recesses of humour. The characters solemnly discuss philosophy before embarking on acts of brutal violence in a manner which could so easily be clichéd were it not for McDonagh’s deft manipulation of the Irish and cockney speech rhythms and lyricism (no real surprise, since McDonagh grew up in London to Irish parents). I use the word manipulation precisely because the language is able to con its audience into a false sense of security with the simple suggestion that Irish people are just as capable as anyone else of violence, murder and brutality irrespective of the cheerful and harmless stereotype often portrayed in American movies.

Equally surprising is just how beautifully shot the film is, painting Bruges as grey and dull by day, conforming to Farrell’s character’s vision of the city, but coming alive with colour and warmth at night. The use of Belgian, Canadian and American actors is also effective, giving the film a feel of literally being on a touristic break while bumping into people of other nationalities along the way.

Funny, frightening and philosophical, this is the perfect film for anyone who wants to sit back and watch a decent story played out with relish and excitement. I can’t recommend In Bruges highly enough.