I watched this film the second time the day after the killing of 17 high school students in Florida by a kid who had lived a troubled life, known to be dangerous, but with no resources to help him.
What I realized is to a mass murderer, those whom he kills have offended against whatever values he holds sacred. In this film, once we ignore the comic book trope, we get to know the inner suffering of the person who describes the happy days of his life, both of them -- one being marrying another troubled soul, whom he loved dearly.
Sure, Rainn Wilsons', Frank Darbo vacillated between the earnest Frank Darbo and the super hero "The Crimson Bolt" was classic paranoid schizophrenia --- or elements of it. But, that's not the wavelength of this film, rather by creating empathy with his insanity, we can actually root for his smashing the head of a man whose crime was cutting in line for movie.
Evil is evil, and once in character there is no quarter, no mercy for those who would break the law, do wrong. He is no longer the nondescript short order cook, who has no resources to prevent a drug pusher from "stealing away" his wife. The process of his connecting with his sidekick, Ellen Page's Libby / Boltie allow unbridled lust, she for him, to spark the raw emotion that demolish all restraint, or even reason.
This viewing was an epiphany for me. The murder of 51 people at a rock concert in Las Vegas was by a man who was financially successful, no brain disease or any other explanation by those who knew him of his motivation. This film certainly doesn't answer this question, but it graphically illustrates how homicidal hatred can be unleashed within an individual who had never even been in a fight before.
Under the guise of entertainment we were seduced to identify with what we call a "monster" who wantonly kills without compunction. We share the excitement, the sense of merging with God himself in punishing evildoers. The more gory, the more shocked the person upon realizing his life is over, the more exaltation our very human super hero felt.
My first viewing of this film, was too stunning to let myself feel empathy for the suffering of the human character whose only release was in this joyous expression of violence. This time I got it, I had tears in my eyes over the life of suffering that Frank had lived, and could enjoy the pretend release of his vindictive carnage.
And then there's the last five minutes, the postscript, where the violence of what had come before could have all been a dream, a fantasy that happens in real life all too frequently.
What I realized is to a mass murderer, those whom he kills have offended against whatever values he holds sacred. In this film, once we ignore the comic book trope, we get to know the inner suffering of the person who describes the happy days of his life, both of them -- one being marrying another troubled soul, whom he loved dearly.
Sure, Rainn Wilsons', Frank Darbo vacillated between the earnest Frank Darbo and the super hero "The Crimson Bolt" was classic paranoid schizophrenia --- or elements of it. But, that's not the wavelength of this film, rather by creating empathy with his insanity, we can actually root for his smashing the head of a man whose crime was cutting in line for movie.
Evil is evil, and once in character there is no quarter, no mercy for those who would break the law, do wrong. He is no longer the nondescript short order cook, who has no resources to prevent a drug pusher from "stealing away" his wife. The process of his connecting with his sidekick, Ellen Page's Libby / Boltie allow unbridled lust, she for him, to spark the raw emotion that demolish all restraint, or even reason.
This viewing was an epiphany for me. The murder of 51 people at a rock concert in Las Vegas was by a man who was financially successful, no brain disease or any other explanation by those who knew him of his motivation. This film certainly doesn't answer this question, but it graphically illustrates how homicidal hatred can be unleashed within an individual who had never even been in a fight before.
Under the guise of entertainment we were seduced to identify with what we call a "monster" who wantonly kills without compunction. We share the excitement, the sense of merging with God himself in punishing evildoers. The more gory, the more shocked the person upon realizing his life is over, the more exaltation our very human super hero felt.
My first viewing of this film, was too stunning to let myself feel empathy for the suffering of the human character whose only release was in this joyous expression of violence. This time I got it, I had tears in my eyes over the life of suffering that Frank had lived, and could enjoy the pretend release of his vindictive carnage.
And then there's the last five minutes, the postscript, where the violence of what had come before could have all been a dream, a fantasy that happens in real life all too frequently.