REVIEW: Eastern Promises [2007]

Rating: R | Runtime: 100 minutes
Release Date: September 14th, 2007 (Canada) / September 21st, 2007 (USA)
Studio: Alliance Atlantis Motion Picture Distribution / Focus Features
Director(s): David Cronenberg
Writer(s): Steven Knight

Good evening.

I’ve been a David Cronenberg fan ever since my college portfolio review. While looking over a piece I made in high school, the art professors asked if I had ever seen Videodrome. I had only seen his eXistenZ at that point, but didn’t know yet know the connection. So, I’ve continued my quest to see everything of his that I could ever since.

I’m not quite there on the archives, but I have been able to see his new work on the big screen. First, the taut psychological thriller Spider. Then it was the film that’s made him a bit of a household name of lately, A History of Violence. The thing with Cronenberg, however, is that he’s meticulous and uncompromising in his vision. Where seeing Spider was a delight at the local indie theater, Violence was a much less enjoyable experience. I’ll need to revisit it in the quiet of my own living room because the audience at my AMC screening were way outside of their element. They laughed at the sex, cheered at the brutality, and talked throughout.

Cronenberg’s films need to fully envelope your mind in order to be enjoyed. Thankfully, his new film Eastern Promises doesn’t disappoint in that regard. Its subtlety and nuance shows that he’s hit a bit of a renaissance and is harkening back to the days of his masterpiece Dead Ringers. If this one says anything about his current work, it’s that I must wipe the slate clean on Violence and watch it again as soon as possible.

Filmed from a script by Steven Knight (whose last indie success was the gem Dirty Pretty Things), Eastern Promises tells the story of a world containing a very real brutality that’s thinly shrouded from the view of its London streets. When a midwife of Russian descent comes across a young girl who died during childbirth, she can’t know her actions will see her embroiled in a mob war. The girl had a diary in her possession that spilled secrets and connections to the city’s most notorious crime family—one in the midst of a feud with its sons fighting each other and letting blood run thick. The midwife seeks to ensure the baby is cared for back home in Russia, but it’s too late once she and her uncle read the diary. She’s gone too deep to be left alone.

Unlike most films in this genre, we aren’t shown the black and white of good versus evil. In the middle of everything lies the Russian boss’s chauffeur Nikolai—an enigma who’s fierce, cold, and calculating when put to work yet compassionate and caring towards our heroine. Is he just the driver? Does he aspire to rise the ranks of the “vory v zakone”? Or is there something else beneath the surface?

The entire film hinges on the believability of this one man’s actions. Had the character been played by anyone other than Viggo Mortensen, I don’t know if it would have been as successful. Talk about an actor laying it all on the line for his art. He plays it with a flawless Russian accent, perfect Russian, and partakes in a steam baths fight scene wherein many performers might be too prudish to go nude let alone orchestrate an action sequence in the process.

Credit Cronenberg for finding a stellar cast beyond Mortensen too. I read in an interview that he made certain to cast his characters with great linguists as the art of accents is like that of a musician’s ear. If true, he’s compiled a Philharmonic Orchestra. Frenchman Vincent Cassel is impeccable with his Russian (impressive since I’ve never heard him speak without a French accent) and German Armin Mueller-Stahl is a powerhouse at the head of this Russian family. The latter’s ability to shift from kindness to violence is uncanny. He’s so soft-spoken and genuine that he doesn’t need to raise his voice when the rage takes over. Having that power while remaining quiet only makes it more vicious.

And let’s not forget about the midwife played by the wonderful Naomi Watts. Truth be told, she doesn’t have much to do beyond playing off these scary men, but she does it well. As the pawn between Mueller-Stahl and Mortensen, she shows a commendable fearlessness. By refusing to back down to the mob after being threatened, she shows a side that one might not expect. Perhaps she puts too much stock into Viggo’s kindness, but her character is believably written in a way that keeps her central to the action.

I must warn prospective viewers that this is not a blockbuster Hollywood film. You may hear about the brutality and blood, the aforementioned extended fight sequence (whose final long take of Mortensen crawling along the floor leads to a bold finale), and the criminal underbelly, but this is still a Cronenberg movie. The pacing is very deliberate so the script’s intelligence is able to ferment and only release at the perfect moment. Its graphic nature (along with some displays of bigotry) may cause discomfort and its sluggishness may bore some, but it won’t disappoint anyone seeking cinematic genius.

Maybe I’m biased as a big fan of this Canadian auteur, but I’ve easily shed my initial worry that Eastern Promises won the top prize at the Toronto International Film Festival only because of hometown nepotism. Having finally seen it myself, I certain now that it captured the prize on its own merits.