William Friedkin is a master filmmaker. His mastery of technique and impressionist storytelling is evident in such masterpieces as The Exorcist (1973), Sorcerer (1977), and the much maligned Cruising (1980). But, in the past thirty years or so, his choices have been underwhelming at best, and mind-boggling at worst. Killer Joe (2011), Friedkin's second collaboration with playwright Tracy Letts after the unforgettable Bug (2006), is a film that is hard to like, but easy to watch.
The story, about a redneck Texas family that decides to enlist the services of a killer for hire, the titular Killer Joe - a corrupt Dallas detective who moonlights as a paid assassin - and then suffering the consequences of their choice, is compelling at first, thanks to Friedkin's sure hand, and a bevy of arresting performances by all involved, especially Emile Hirsch, Gine Gershon, and Juno Temple as the brain-damaged teen who is slowly revealed to be more than meets the eye. But as the film progresses, and Killer Joe, played with charming menace by Matthew McConaughey, starts to take over the story, scenes grow more and more incoherent and overwrought, till we reach a climax so hysterical and heavy-handed, that one is relieved when the credits roll and Clarence Carter's Strokin' starts to play.
It is obvious that Friedkin and company are having a blast with the pitch-black comedy of it all. But Friedkin is obviously not interested in reining in the story's excesses in favor of clear storytellling and believable characters. On the contrary. He seems to relish the story's over-the-top violence and characterizations, piling layer upon of layer of vulgarity and ugliness, scene after repetitive scene.
In the end, the point of the story, if there's any, is lost under the noise, blood, and gags, wasting a fine cast with it.
But that is not to say Killer Joe is a bad film. No, sir. It is a well-made, memorable movie, even entertaining, in its own twisted way. But it is also crass, loud, and ultimately underwhelming. Watch it at your own peril.
© Ahmed Khalifa. 2019.
