A We Need to Talk About Kevin film review
Well, don’t you?
Released in 2011, We Need to Talk About Kevin, directed by Lynne Ramsay, is a film that needs to be watched at least twice. Unsettling, cold, ambiguous, every detail has been calculated to create the ultimate open ended story. It literally begs to be discussed.
The film follows a windy road, developing stream of consciousness-style as Eva Khatchadourian (Tilda Swinton) trudges through her day-to-day life, pulling the viewer back in time with her as she examines her past. The specific focus of this, of course, is her relationship with her troubled (or troublesome, depending on your interpretation) son, Kevin (Ezra Miller) and what eventually landed him in prison.
To anyone who isn’t familiar with this specific kind of storytelling, We Need to Talk About Kevin is not the easiest film to ease into. The first time I watched it was with a friend, and we spent about 90% of the film going, “What’s happening? What’s going on? What are we even watching?” It doesn’t help that the opening scene resembles a gory, medieval blood bath and bares little to no relevance to the rest of the film.
Despite this, there is an undeniable chilling, intimate atmosphere. While trying to piece together what exactly happened to create such an awful outcome, you almost feel as if you’re watching these people’s lives unfold through a bedroom window. This rings especially true in Eva’s solo scenes. Watching her worn down, wandering around in her dingy house with this empty, exhausted expression, is emotionally draining enough in itself. It’s almost so painful that it feels wrong to see it. Yet, this discomfort is really what fuels the film and makes it the effective statement it is. When faced with the ugly truth, is what makes it so ugly it’s ambiguity?
Eva introduces this interesting predicament. Without context, she could seem well adjusted. A normal mother who happened to get a “bad seed.” However, We Need to Talk About Kevin is based on a novel of the same name, by Lionel Shriver. In this version of the story, it’s made very clear that Eva is an unreliable narrator. Her perception is warped in her favor, giving no explanation to Kevin’s behavior besides the obvious what she chooses to see. And, well, unless you believe people can be born purely and totally evil, there are some missing pieces here. Which is why, arguably, this is a must watch twice.
Ramsay must love mise-en-scene, because set design and aesthetic are very important in this film, especially when it comes to pointing out Eva’s shortcomings as a mother. Scenes that are flashbacks portray little subtleties that throw the whole “happy-and-healthy-home” facade off. Kevin, in his teenage years, is always wearing ill-fitted clothing. The first time you see him he’s in a tight, blue striped shirt, one that he also wore when he was much, much younger earlier in the film. When he raises his arms to shoot his bow and arrow (another disturbing detail, but we’ll get to that one later,) and his short becomes a very un-chic crop top, it’s sad to think that Eva gave up on buying him a decent wardrobe. Kevin’s bedroom is pretty bleak as well – grey bedsheets, dark blue, undecorated walls – it’s a sad, dark place. Eva always looks utterly exhausted as well with Swinton’s transformative performance, along with her usually beige, to dusty green, to grey outfit choices.
Shots are often framed symmetrically as well. At times, the movie looks like cinematographer, Seamus McGarvey, is making a Wes Anderson film gone bad. Yet, these wide frames are important to giving more hints about the unseen aspects of Eva and Kevin’s life. A lot of rooms in the house look undecorated, or unfinished. There really aren’t many pictures of the family decorating the walls in the living room. There is a shot in which Kevin (Jasper Newell) spits on a slice of bread and jam and mashes it into the glass table to antagonize Eva. Yet, if you look closely you’ll notice the room is already in disarray (e.g. wrongfully wasted Goldfish crumbs littering the table – come on, guys!)
(Spoilers ahead, just a warning.)
Their dialogue is very carefully chosen as well. Not once does Eva reassure Kevin of her love. In the scene after she broke his arm, they’re driving in the car together, looking ahead.
“What Mama did was very, very, wrong,” she says, her eyes not moving from the road. “And she’s so, so sorry.”
Never at one point does she take responsibility, or show Kevin motherly warmth, in that situation. Despite later rehashing it mentally, she allows herself to dissociate from her apology. And when Kevin bails her out to Franklin (John C. Reilly), her husband, she allows him to – which is deeply irresponsible. During a jail visit in the present day, Eva asks Kevin if he remember how he got the scar on his arm. In reference to the incident, Kevin tells her, “It was the most honest thing you ever did.”
So yes, Eva – for lack of a better term – wasn’t much of a maternal figure. However, this is not an excuse for Kevin’s behavior, either.
“He’s a total sociopath,” friend who watched with me insists. “Why else would he torture his Mom for no reason? Or literally shoot people with a bow and arrow at his high school? That’s insane. He’s a sociopath.”
She’s not wrong. Whether or not “sociopath” is his official diagnosis is one thing, but Kevin certainly had some untreated mental illness that caused him to do what he did. The struggle with this is that there is little to compare this movie to. It’s shown through such a narrow lense that there really is no, “Kevin is sort of like this character, from this movie,” or, “Kevin could be like this person, or this person.” So, we really don’t know much about Kevin, at the end of the film. Even a trained psychologist would have to take Eva’s perception into account.
That ambiguity leads to a lot of questions. Maybe too many, as you walk away from this film feeling uncomfortable and desperately trying to place these characters into comfortable categories in your mind. Well, you can’t. And after my third viewing, I learned that you never will. It is about that dissonance. No one knows where to place their blame. Much like real life, people are good and evil, and there is never one official flame that lights the fire.
It could be Eva, who seems to blame herself but flashbacks could say differently. But either way, it feels wrong to watch her get slapped in the face by a random woman, or be told, “Do you think anyone else is going to want you now?” by a drunken co-worker at a christmas party on-par with one set up by Jim and Dwight from The Office. Kevin is a much easier target in this case, but isn’t he’s still just a kid? At the end of the film when they are about to transfer him into a real prison, you learn he’s only 18 now. And with a shaved head, little to no pride left, you can see even Eva is struggling to see him weak.
So do we need to talk about Kevin? Absolutely. We need to talk about a lot of things. This film has been meticulously crafted, an essential for anyone who likes a movie that you’ll be asking yourself about for days afterwards. The questions asked after We Need to Talk About Kevin, are more than likely the questions asked after a great tragedy. And no, this isn’t a feel good film. It’s one of a kind. Something that everyone should see… at least twice.