The weight on Martin McDonagh after the cult success of In Bruges must have felt extraordinary. As a result, the pressure is very much felt in the second half of his second feature, Seven Psychopaths. Though a fantastically funny and terrifically written black comedy on the whole; this time around, McDonagh appears to rely ever so slightly more on his wealth of employed comedic talent than he does his own ability to craft a screenplay that is sassy, intelligent and hilarious.
Returning to the fold is Colin Farrell who fully deserved a proper cinematic outing this year after the regrettable Total Recall rehash, and his underplayed alcohol-fuelled confusion is not only central, but key to this particular story being successful. Though he never admitted to it being in any way autobiographical (regardless of the fact that Farrell’s character is a screenwriter called Marty who is writing a film called ‘Seven Psychopaths’), there is clearly a lot of McDonagh in Marty, if over evidenced in the fact that Seven Psychopaths is essentially a metafilm, as specifically played out in the almost surreal third act which almost solely features Farrell, Sam Rockwell and Christopher Walken talking jive in the desert. The trio provide a solid 20 minutes of well scripted comedic banter, but it’s hard not to feel like McDonagh was running a bit thin on ideas after cramming the first 75 minutes of the film with all his top stuff. Ergo, he sends his three glorious leads out into the desert for a chat knowing full well that their talent and natural comedic charm will see the movie through to the final shootout. As much is this may sound like a criticism, it really isn’t. It just came as a bit of an odd shock to find these great characters static around a campfire for an extended part of the final act of the film, especially after it opens with such frenetic pace.
As a pair of hapless dog-borrowers, Walken and Rockwell deliver perfectly, but as much as Walken doing comedy is almost too much of a treat, this is Rockwell’s film from start to finish. His timing is impeccable, with his decent into the utterly psychotic defining his role as a comedic gem for the ages (his narration of a graveyard shootout the single most gut-busting scene you’ll see this year). A true star performance in a film jam-packed with talent. Woody Harrelson is on predictable fine form, while an amusing yet emotional turn from the wonderful Tom Waits does well to give Rockwell a run for his money as far as scene stealing goes.
Gabourey Sidibe, Olga Kurylenko and Abbie Cornish are also in this film, you’d be surprised if they even received a paycheque clocking up a combined ten minutes screen time between them. Walken and Rockwell’s characters even go as far as referencing the lack of female characters in the script Marty (Farrell) is writing. Metafilm, indeed.
An odd film with an odd plot and odd characters, Seven Psychopaths is most importantly fresh; a welcome comedy in a genre not nearly as black or as intelligent as McDonagh continues to make you wish it were.