John Hillcoat and Nick Cave serve up a ravishing and brutal new vision of the
western against the Australian outback
in the tense and lyrical The Proposition.
Following such films as Straw Dogs, Unforgiven, and A History of Violence,
this is not merely a violent film; it is a film about violence. But rather than
implicitly criticizing the audience''s acceptance or enjoyment of violence,
The Proposition focuses on the emotional havoc done on and by its characters
in variously motivated acts of violence. The violence is abrupt, unsettling
and devastating. It interrupts placid scenes so frequently that it could come
across as a cheap trick for audience thrills, but the effects of the violence
as played out in other interactions between characters and the complex web of
violence and counter-violence that plunge the characters into moral conflict
shows this tendency as thematically motivated. One of the great achievements
of the film is the incredible tension in a straightforward, practically paced
Christmas dinner scene. By the time this scene comes around, the audience is
held in the same grip that holds the psyches of its characters, permanently
scarred by the brutality that engulfs them.
Yet while eruptions of violence show the movie at its most intense, the rest
of the movie is often more gripping and always more poetic. What makes this
film unforgettable is a distinct and pervasive atmosphere conjured by the synthesis
of searing cinematography of an incredible landscape (used to more effects than
I have room to explore here) and an outstanding soundtrack that could dethrone
Neil Young''s work in Jarmusch''s Dead Man as the most transcendent,
innovative soundtrack in a recent western.