| Bruiser (2001) Dir: George A. Romero Cast: Jason Flemyng, Peter Stormare, Leslie Hope, Nina Garbiras, Andrew Tarbet, Tom Atkins Rated R, Approx: 99 Minutes Lions Gate Entertainment Video and DVD |
| Up until Lion's Gate finally released this title to DVD, George Romero had been away from filmmaking for far too long (his last feature was 1993's release of The Dark Half). Filmed in 1999 and shelved until the US video distribution in the fall of 2001, the lack of a theatrical release was just one of the many injustices Mr. Romero's latest has suffered. Panned by critics and moviegoers alike, if you believe all the bad press Bruiser is an unwatchable piece of garbage. Thankfully, you're a little more open minded or you wouldn't be reading this critique, yes? The general consensus of fans is that George just seems tired, but I think a lot of people are missing the boat. I'm obviously in the minority here, but I feel that Bruiser has endured an almost criminal amount of flack for no good reason. Romero isn't necessarily interested in treading familiar territory (even each individual film in the director's "Dead" series is considerably different), and while his latest film may explore themes that the director previously has explored (especially in Martin and the underrated Jack's Wife) Bruiser isn't just a rehashed amalgamation of old ideas. It's a fascinating and endlessly compelling story as simple or as complex as you want to make it. It's a story of revenge on the surface, but much more than that it's an interesting study of identity as the film takes a look at what exactly makes a person an individual in this day and age.
To streamline the story, Bruiser tells the story of Henry Creedlow (Jason Flemying), a moderately successful businessman living what appears to be "the good life" at first glance. Married to a gorgeous wife (Nina Garbiras), working for a successful fashion magazine and owning a large home are all attributes of Creedlow's life. Beneath the surface however Creedlow isn't much more than a pushover floor mat. Burdened by a constantly nagging wife ("I fucked my way to the bottom." She says of their marriage at one point), a best friend (Andrew Tarbet) who steals money from his investments at every turn and a boss (Peter Stormare) who merely gets off on the notion of having so many people work for him, Henry's life could be better. He isn't overly happy, he fantasizes about killing himself as he gets ready for his daily grind and drifts into violent revenge fantasies throughout the day whenever someone pisses him off. Regardless of his inner feelings, Henry is too gentle and permits just about anyone to stomp all over him. The last straw snaps when he witnesses his wife and boss indulging in a sexual act. Henry is plunged into a state of anonymity when he awakens the next morning, seemingly without a face. His features obscured by a blank white visage. Now separated from the confines of consequence (no face, no identity), Henry transforms from the gentle 'nice guy' into a faceless murderer who takes a therapeutic revenge on those who have ground him down. Bruiser is Romero at the top of his game and the story of Henry Creedlow is an exceptionally interesting one. Comparisons between this and American Psycho have arisen and while both films may be thematically similar, I have a hard time discussing both films together in terms of similarities. Where American Psycho was a hysterical look at the soulless, shallow belly of corporate America (of course, I'm simplifying that point to death), Romero's film is very much a 'psychological cleansing' of the main character. One could perhaps make the argument that this film is indeed set in the world Bret Easton Ellis created and displayed in American Psycho, both films provide darkly funny, exaggerated send-ups of the yuppie way of living. In Bruiser Romero displays a plethora of reprehensible characters that aren't the fully fleshed out folk one may expect, but rather a group of delicious archetypal amplifications. The fact that Henry's boss Milo is obsessed with sex and money and thusly may appear as a shallow one dimensional character is not so much a flaw on the part of Romero's writing, but rather a heavy handed way hammering the point home. Henry's wife and best friend also succumb to this notion; the cheating wife and scheming chum play more as examples of what exactly Creedlow is rebelling against than actual characters in the story. As Creedlow embarks on his quest for revenge, he finds solace in his boss' wife Rosemary (Leslie Hope), the only character in the story that displays any real respect for Henry. Romero draws interesting parallels between Henry and Rosemary (as a hobby she actually makes blank life masks-like the one Henry's face has become), as both characters are essentially prisoners of their immediate surroundings. He's trapped in his shallow lifestyle whereas she is stuck in the rut of a thankless marriage. Both characters seem content to wallow in their environments until one finally takes action. With his spree Henry forges not only a new life for himself (and Rosemary for that matter), but his revenge begins to act as a sort of gratifying self-help process for him. Bruiser raises several interesting questions about the presented material. In a vein similar to Martin, it's unclear as to weather or not the blank visage is all a psychological hallucination on the part of Henry (which would explain why the character dons a blank mask over his non-existent face in the final half) and vis a vis, his actions nothing more than a fantastical revenge idea. Just as audiences are still debating the authenticity of Martin�s main character some 25 years later, Bruiser is just as ambiguous on the same level. Much more than a contemplative Death Wish, Romero makes his statement about the current state of American society with this film (something that all good Romero films do in my opinion). It's on display everywhere in Bruiser: a radio call in program which exploits the suicide of a caller, the aforementioned sleaze ball characters concerned simply with sex and power and finally the finale where a masquerade ball disintegrates into nothing more than a bizarre and sleazy freak show (if that's not a comment on society all unto itself, I don't know what is!), this is vintage Romero from start to finish. |