You Were Never Really Here (2017) [Blu-ray]
Drama | Mystery | Thriller
A traumatized veteran, unafraid of violence, tracks down missing girls for a living. When a job spins out of control, Joe's nightmares overtake him as a conspiracy is uncovered leading to what may be his death trip or his awakening.
Storyline: Balancing between feverish dreamlike hallucinations of a tormented past and a grim disoriented reality, the grizzled Joe--a traumatised Gulf War veteran and now an unflinching hired gun who lives with his frail elderly
mother--has just finished yet another successful job. With an infernal reputation of being a brutal man of results, the specialised in recovering missing teens enforcer will embark on a blood-drenched rescue mission, when Nina, the innocent 13-year-old
daughter of an ambitious New York senator, never returns home. But amidst half-baked leads and a desperate desire to shake off his shoulders the heavy burden of a personal hell, Joe's frenzied plummet into the depths of Tartarus is inevitable, and every
step Joe takes to flee the pain, brings him closer to the horrors of insanity. In the end, what is real, and what is a dream? Can there be a new chapter in Joe's life when he keeps running around in circles? Written by Nick
Riganas
Reviewer's Note: Reviewed by Jeffrey Kauffman, July 9, 2018 In case there's a cable television executive out there perusing Blu-ray reviews who is looking for a killer concept for a reality series, I have one: lock Joaquin
Phoenix and Shia Labeouf in a room together, Big Brother style, turn on a few cameras, sit back and let the performance art (and incredible ratings) begin. While I don't think Phoenix has appeared in public with a bag on his head emblazoned "I am
not famous anymore" (at least not yet, anyway), this recent recipient of the Best Actor award at Cannes has certainly given Labeouf a run for his "is he kidding?" money with a number of confounding interviews and other PR related appearances that
may have left some fans concerned that the actor was traveling down the same drug riddled path as his late, lamented brother River. There's maybe just a hint of that ambiguity between acting and performance (as in "pretend" acting) at play in
You Were Never Really Here, but it tends to be more obvious in some presentational aspects like Phoenix's hobo-esque appearance than in his actual characterization. You Were Never Really Here plays a bit like the flip side of Taken,
with a lead character similarly on the hunt for a girl abducted into human trafficking circles, but in this case the "certain set of skills" that Joe (Joaquin Phoenix) indubitably possesses have been frayed by an unraveling psyche and some inner turmoil
that have pushed the character to the brink of suicide. You Were Never Really Here is often viscerally effective, but it's also hampered by a deliberately "Arty" approach that serves largely to draw attention to itself instead of supporting a story
that might have benefited from more of a verité directorial style.
The disconnect between style and content is probably best exemplified by a film that obviously helped to inform You Were Never Really Here and which is cited rather prominently on a pull quote on the front cover of the Blu-ray release, Martin
Scorsese's Taxi Driver. But Scorsese had the good sense to frame his story within a grittily realistic context, something that added to and perhaps even reflected the psychological disruptions Travis Bickle was experiencing. By contrast, Scottish
writer-director Lynne Ramsay infuses You Were Never Really Here with stylistic conceits from the get go, where an opening sequence features near hallucinatory sound design of at least two people whispering a "countdown" of sorts, which is then met
with the unsettling image of Joe with a plastic bag over his head. Even this might be viewed as "grittily realistic" had Ramsay not opted for a montage like approach, and there are similar stylistic flourishes regularly skewing You Were Never
Really Here away from its "kitchen sink drama" foundational elements toward something decidedly more in the Art House arena.
Joaquin Phoenix's appearance in You Were Never Really Here might cause some to think he's wandered in from a nearby bus and truck version of Nicholas and Alexandra, where he was playing Rasputin (albeit in modern dress), but unlike the
supposed mesmermist of yore, Joe is often unable to control his own impulses, let alone anyone else's. The character is a walking time bomb, haunted by memories of combat and what seem to be some childhood abuse issues (Ramsay's tendency toward discursive
and/or disjunctive presentational aspects doesn't always help support a clear understanding of the narrative). Joe at least attempts to have a relatively normal home life with his elderly mother (Judith Roberts), but simmering psychological unrest bubbles
over when Joe is tasked with retrieving the kidnapped daughter of a New York state senator named Albert Votto (Alex Manette).
Kind of interestingly, the freeing of Votto's daughter Nina (Ekaterina Samsonov) is accomplished relatively quickly in the story (albeit with a rather staggering body count), a removal of the "damsel in distress" element that in and of itself makes You
Were Never Really Here manifestly different from both Taken and Taxi Driver. However, there's a whole nefarious corruption subplot in play that then takes over and which may be reminiscent for some fans of any number of other properties,
including some "schoolgirl in peril" gialli like Enigma Rosso and What Have You Done to Solange?. What continually tends to disrupt the flow of the story, though, is Ramsay's dual focus on terrifying violence (to say Joe has anger
management issues may be the understatement of the decade) and stylistic peculiarities that are undeniably riveting but which tended to distance me personally from the more visceral aspects of the story.
If Ramsay seems a little uncertain as to how to approach this disturbing subject matter and this equally disturbing (and disturbed) main character, Phoenix commits to his performance with his typical intensity, bringing Joe's anguished interior life to
the surface even when the presentational style tends to keep the character at arm's length. Ramsay is not a "frequent flyer" in film production, and her attempts to marry weighty substance with at times flighty style don't always mesh perfectly here,
though both her fans and appreciators of Phoenix may find this an interesting "near miss".
I was both taken (no pun intended) and frustrated by various aspects of You Were Never Really Here. The underlying plot involving the abducted girls is really rather hackneyed by this point, but the surrounding material, including the really
fascinating if unsettling character of Joe, gives this film a rather undeniable power. That said, I wish Ramsay had opted for less of a showy style and simply let the story tell itself without all of the bells and whistles she's added to the mix. This is
most definitely not a film for everyone, but for those who have like other Ramsay outings and who want to see Phoenix essay a challenging role, You Were Never Really Here comes Recommended.
[CSW] -3.4- The novella's author (Jonathan Ames) says Joe is both a former soldier and a former FBI agent. But the director (Lynne Ramsay) is more abstract in her approach. The film now treats Joe's past almost like a dream. There are references to child
abuse, both earlier in Joe's childhood and currently in sex trafficking. This is definitely a less-is-more film. In less skilled hands, You Were Never Really Here's deliberately vague storytelling might be a weakness. It might even come across as
maddening. Yet it never does here. We are given all the pieces we need to put a puzzle together ourselves. We may not like what we see when that puzzle is finally assembled, but it is assembled none the less. In this sense, You Were Never Really
Here is visual storytelling at its finest. No long speeches, no lengthy exposition, no on-the-nose dialogue is needed to move us from point A to point B. Instead, Ramsay relies on the viewer to make the journey themselves. To follow Joe down dark,
dangerous alleyways and see where it all leads.
[V4.0-A4.0] MPEG-4 AVC - No D-Box
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