Only God Forgives: Beautiful Vulgarity

Booed out of Cannes, walked out of en mass and savaged by various members of the criticism fraternity, Only God Forgives hasn't had an easy ride since its premiere at the 2013 Cannes Film Festival. But Nicolas Winding Refn's latest collaboration with Ryan Gosling is a mesmeric, strange and ultraviolent tale of Western criminals in an Eastern setting. Visually hypnotic, Only God Forgives is a movie about fear—seemingly the bastard child of David Lynch and Wong Kar-Wai, who had David Cronenberg as a babysitter.

Julian (Ryan Gosling) is the owner of a Thai-boxing club along with his brother Billy (Tom Burke). But the club is merely a front for their drugs trade, which seems to be a successful operation. Both of the brothers are riddled with rage, violence is the focus of their lives, but it's Julian's ability to show silent emotion that makes him much more intimidating than his brother who cannot keep his temper in check.

It's Billy's temper and misogyny that leads the film down its dark, overpowering path. One night, Billy succumbs to his yearning to unleash hate and brutally murders a prostitute. In turn, the victim's father exacts revenge and in a twisted underworld circle, Julian is the one left with the responsibility of claiming some sort of justice for his brother. But he doesn't kill the father. No, whether it was a sense of morality or the distant memory of past pains, Julian refuses to end the man's life.

Julian's reluctance to continue the circle of violence brings two people in his life he'd seemingly be much better off without. The first is his dearest, most vitriolic mother Crystal (Kristin Scott Thomas), who believes that her second born son is a pathetic excuse for a man for failing to avenge his brother. The second, and all the more sinister, is police officer Chang (Vithaya Pansringarm), who plays the role of God in this universe. Chang ghosts the streets with a sword that appears to be drawn out of his spine. It's because of Chang that Billy was allowed to be killed, therefore unwittingly inspiring Julian's wrenching situation with his mother.

Chang is from another world and simply doesn't exist on a literal level. He is the morality of the movie, acting as both judge and sadistic executioner. He is a God that cannot be touched by a mere mortal, yet we see a bunch of self-entitled westerners who treat the local Thai people as if they are subhuman. Chang seems to know how Julian and his mother are going to act before they do, and it's clear from very early on that they are outmatched. But Julian eventually finds his masculinity and challenges Chang.

Refn's frames are a nightmarish red, and there are frequent shots of eerie corridors that seem to pulsate with tacky lights. Visually it has much in common with the work of Gaspar Noe—most notably his Enter the Void. Noe is given special thanks in the credits. The production design is staggeringly beautiful. The Crystal character is modelled after Lady Macbeth, the knowledge of which brings Refn's vision into a clearer focus.

The film is littered with scenes of karaoke, which unlike in the west is an important and almost religious part of Thai culture. These scenes look like they've been transported right from a Wong Kar-Wai film, especially with the songs being about unrequited love. And despite the film being rather outlandish, its genius lies in the subtlety—particularly in the moments between Julian and his mother.

One of the most striking sequences of the film lies in the dinner scene. Julian knows that his mother intends to emasculate him in the most vicious way possible so he decides to bring along Mai (Yayayin Rhatha Phongam), a prostitute he frequents as a date. The dinner conversation goes from fierce insults of Mai to tears over Billy to mocking the size of Julian's penis. Mai is a quiet soul and was genuinely touched that Julian wanted to take her to meet his mother only to endure the casual insult of him explaining that they must "pretend to be a couple." And after the dinner he tries to humiliate her the same way his mother did him, standing religiously by his mother’s side in the most Freudian of scenarios. In an interesting turn, Mai is the only one who comes out of this film with any dignity despite being a battering ram and Julian's regular whore.

It's very Shakespearean, very Freudian, it’s an almost unbearable odyssey into Hell: it's Nicolas Winding Refn's bizarre masterpiece of madness. Audiences have bolted towards the exits and will continue to do so, and that is understandable to a degree, but they are missing out on a crazily brilliant piece of cinema. It's incredibly nasty, and hopefully nastier on the next viewing. Bad taste vulgarity never looked so beautiful.