For the year 2021, I have set a goal to watch #52FilmsByWomen. I found 2020 to be an exceptionally incredible year for women filmmakers, amid the crazy global pandemic their films were often pushed to the front of the line without big theater blockbusters taking all the limelight. I will watch one film per week made by a woman, all films I have never seen before, both old and a few fairly recent releases sprinkled in, as well. I look forward to expanding my knowledge of women filmmakers and their work, and hopefully bring a new light and following to a severely under-appreciated part of cinema.
In my quest to accomplish #52FilmsByWomen this year, I have decided to approach my list knowing as little as possible as I sit down to watch the next film. However, I heard a few things about You Were Never Really Here (2017) directed by Lynne Ramsey, namely that it was “really good” and Joaquin Phoenix was incredible. I will admit I had to watch this film twice to fully absorb everything about it. The film is a quick 90 minutes, which I love. There is something to be said these days about normalizing a condensed story, as it seems to be so rare. Ramsey takes the narrative, hits the ground running, and expects you to follow along without over analysis. The editing is straight forward, direct, and deliberate. However, at times, I feel that some details are obscured–and not until the second watch did I fully grasp what was happening. Maybe I was attempting to analyze too much–this narrative just demands that you sit back and absorb what is happening.
This film and its themes are centered around a severely disturbed, traumatized former veteran, Joe (Joaquin Phoenix). He is currently a hitman who rescues young girls who have been human trafficked–brutally killing those in his path to save these victims. The distinct approach to convey Joe’s trauma is cold and aggressive, but in some moments tender and downright sad. Ramsey does not create a soft atmosphere around Joe, although he is our protagonist and who we should feel empathy toward. The camera often stays distant from Joe, and we never really see inside of him, emotionally. Joe has flashbacks to his troubled childhood, and those moments are intercut between current day Joe attempting to suffocate himself by breathing deeply into plastic bags wrapped around his head. Joe is completely fearless in his work and a perfect fit for the job because he is not afraid to die. He wants to die because he cannot face his trauma, so instead he saves children from their trauma.
Joe continues to toe the line between life and death often. Even in less obvious moments, Ramsey cues us into Joe’s mind focused on death and dying, particularly in a scene in which he gets his next and most important assignment. When he enters the room, he notices and questions why it is filled with vases of flowers. The answer is that they were gifted to him by florists, who are the parents of a child he recently saved.. But, this doubles as a preview of a funeral or wake for Joe. He lays back on the couch, reminiscent of a coffin–the wide shot shows the flowers surrounding him and framing his prone body.
Joe only seems to continue living only to care for his elderly mother, which is when we are made privy to sweet and tender moments from him, although brief. We see them sitting to polish silverware together, singing and laughing, or Joe cleaning out her refrigerator as they bicker about the expired items. However, things take a quick turn at the appropriate and perfectly executed halfway point, completely shocking Joe and changing the course of the narrative. His most recent and high profile save of Nina (Ekaterina Samsonov), daughter of a New York State Senator, ultimately results in his mother’s death and sends him on a search and rescue mission for Nina again.
The scene that has stayed with me, though, is the final sequence. Joe and Nina, the young girl who is now his only reason to live, are seated at a booth in a diner. Nina gets up and leaves Joe alone at the table. Joe is shown to be in a reflective, peaceful moment, or so we think. Immediately it turns to a startling and downright terrifying moment, Joe puts a gun to his chin and pulls the trigger. Joe’s body falls forward into the table, blood everywhere–yet there is no reaction from anyone else in the diner; the chatter and clanging of silverware remain unchanged. The realization that this is not an actual suicide, but again the internal grappling that Joe deals with constantly. The waitress walks by and drops the check–blood splatter on her face and hands, leaving bloody fingerprints on the check to represent the small impressions we leave on those we encounter on a daily basis. Every person we meet along the course of our day is likely struggling with something internal as well, never outwardly showing it. Nina makes her way back to the table, and the camera shows Joe how NIna sees him, head down resting on the table. They have an unspoken understanding. She softly touches the crown of his head, encouraging him to wake from his imagined suicide, no blood in sight. Joe and Nina exchange thoughts on it being “a beautiful day” and Joe sips the remains of his drink, as if to communicate that he is willing to take on more of this life to protect Nina. She is now his reason to live.
You Were Never Really Here is not for the faint of heart–it is cold and violent but there are extremely important messages throughout. Among others, it deals with mental health, trauma, and human-trafficking. After my second watch, I could more clearly see what Ramsey was accomplishing. Her calculated way of representing Joe’s trauma is not like other veteran-based trauma stories. She conveys her themes directly and aggressively. In my continuation of #52FilmsByWomen, I plan to seek out Ramsey’s 2011 mystery-thriller We Need to Talk About Kevin. I am looking forward to seeing how she uses a child as the troubled protagonist.
Grade: B
