Ray and Ken, two hit men, are in Bruges, Belgium, waiting for their next mission. While they are there they have time to think and discuss their previous assignment. When the mission is revealed to...
In Bruges attaches a cynically hilarious screenplay to its quaint tourist destination. “So, is he having a nice time, seeing all the canals and that? All the canals and the old buildings and that. Have you been down, like, all the old cobbled streets and that? It’s like a fairytale, isn’t it, that place? With the churches and that. They’re gothic.”. Bruges, an idyllic picturesque medieval town nestled in the bosom of Belgium, is home to a variety of neo-gothic structures as ferocious hitman employer Harry lovingly described. Stoic churches. Serene canals. Pizza Hut. “Well, that’s globalisation, isn’t it?”. The last joyous holiday from his childhood, as he sends two Irish hitmen to the tranquil settlement as they await for a situation involving the accidental murder of an innocent child to “cool down” back in England. Ken, an experienced hitman whom often consumes “gay beers”, relishes in the sight-seeing activities of a general tourist. The younger and rebellious Ray, whom is the murderer of said child and consumes “normal beers”, acts like a toddler. Unable to see the beauty of humanity and its history. “Ken, I grew up in Dublin. I love Dublin. If I’d grown up on a farm and was retarded, Bruges might impress me. But I didn’t, so it doesn’t.”. Therefore continuing on with Harry’s conversation, Ken answers, “You know, I’m not sure if it’s really his thing.”. Harry pauses. “What the *insert expletive* is that supposed to mean? It’s a fairytale *and another expletive* town, isn’t it? How can a fairytale town not be somebody’s *oh, there’s another one!* thing?”.
And with that, McDonagh’s first feature length film asserts the referential humour that seamlessly combines the bitter bite of Irish tendencies with the structure of a British comedy. In what is one of the greatest, and more importantly funniest, screenplays ever conceived. McDonagh manages to transform the tragicomedy setup and mould it into the vein of darkness that the writer/director is accustomed to. The sharp dialogue crosses nearly every boundary of obscenity. Homophobic slurs. Misogynistic remarks. Racist arguments (coincidentally apt given today’s current sociopolitical climate). Hard drug use. Anti-dwarfism, and suicidal tendencies. Had it been written by any other screenwriter, these overexposed narrative dabbles would be deemed as maliciously spiteful. However, McDonagh implements a robustness to the Irish charm of his characters that enables him to bypass the unfavourable limitations of malevolence and strike the chord of twisted hilarity. Avoiding the situational humour of American comedies and opting for a referential structure that elegantly forces the second half to be utterly whimsical. Initially implementing the line “In my book, though, sorry, someone comes at you with a bottle, that is a deadly weapon, he’s gotta take the consequences.”, fifteen minutes later allowing Ray to punch a woman who attempts to attack him with said “weapon”.
Quick-fire setups that ensue barrels of laughs whilst supplying much required character development. And that’s why In Bruges works so well. There’s a deeper connection to the characters than just the comedy. Ray, overridden with guilt, contemplates suicide and attempts to understand the opportunistic approach of forgiveness. Certifying a possibility for repenting sins and not plunging into the depths of hell, as outlined when staring at Bosch’s painting ‘Last Judgement’, which is then splintered throughout the film as visual allusions. A religious undertone is nestled underneath the homophobia and misogyny, granting a condemned soul a chance for absolution. Ray is the manifestation of that idealistic virtuosity, regardless of his fascination with “midgets”. Ken is the individual that dictates his future, an overseeing entity testing the morality of Ray.
Two juxtaposing yet identical characters that are portrayed perfectly by their performers. Farrell offers a career-best performance as Ray, hosting the ability to switch from anxiously twitchy and emotionally vulnerable to darkly comedic and general buffoon within a minute. Undeniably showcasing his talents as a character actor. Gleeson has the more difficult job of weighing in on the script’s morality scale, whilst actively employing dry comedy in his line delivery. He nails it quicker than falling off of the Belfry of Bruges! There’s a serious curiosity to his words and performance that both intrigues and captivates. Levelling the general stupidity of Ray’s character. The two exerted tangible chemistry. Then there’s Fiennes as the honourable yet feisty Harry, whom undoubtedly has one of the greatest introductory scenes ever. Smashing an “inanimate *here’s another expletive for you* object!” in a fit of rage. Perfection. McDonagh’s astute direction and on-locale filming, that most certainly heightened Bruges’ tourism, was on the verge of perfection.
Unfortunately, several contrived plot conveniences accentuate the sloppy plot that screamed for finesse. The Canadians conveniently finding Ray on the one train that he was on, with drug dealer Chloë conveniently bailing him out instantly. Harry reaching the bottom of the bell tower before an explicitly injured individual fell down. Harry shooting a bullet through an individual and the boatman behind not being affected. A partially blind Eirik, thanks to Ray, working with arms dealer Yuri. Just far too many conveniences that detract from the natural flow of events, and the plot as a whole.
Fortunately these contrivances do not diminish the longevity of McDonagh’s acidic screenplay. Much like a Ritchie British gangster flick, the soigné comedy is at the forefront, and for that In Bruges is a remarkable success. Equipped with exceptionally terrific central performances and asinine references, McDonagh proves that referential comedy outweighs the repetitive nature of a situational structure, granting a typical hitman-esque feature a quaint makeover. “Harry, thank you for the trip to Bruges, it’s been very nice, all the old buildings and that, but we’re coming back to London now, and hide out in a proper country, where it isn’t all just *last expletive...* chocolates!”.
