Bronson Review

Published by Jeff Leins on: August 29th, 2009

Bronson is bloody, brutal, and stylish with all the makings of a cult favorite.  The controversial biopic by filmmaker Nicolas Winding Refn is loosely based on the notorious thug and lifetime prisoner, Charles Bronson.

Born Michael Peterson, the anti-hero led a relatively normal life in Luton, U.K.  He was a mild-mannered kid that wound up in the occasional schoolyard scrape before later marrying and fathering a son.

In his twenties, Peterson was arrested for armed robbery and sentenced to 7 years in prison for swiping a pittance from the post office.  At the trial, his mother said, “Don’t worry, you’ll be out in four.”  The stint has bulked up to 34 years — 30 in solitary confinement — and counting.

On the inside Peterson saw isolation as an opportunity to “sharpen his tools,” which meant physical training to tone his hammer fists and hulking size.  Peterson repeatedly brawled with prison guards and captured hostages, which earned him increasing extensions on his term.  He wears the moniker “most violent inmate in Britain” like a badge of honor.

A brief 69-day release meant a short-lived career as a bare knuckle boxer where he donned another name: Charles Bronson, patterned after the actor in Death Wish.  Refn depicts him as a caged animal unleashed on contenders to deliver savage beatings, which Bronson calls “magic.”  The bouts are set to music in a violent dance of powerful punches and crushing headbutts.  Another petty crime lands him back in prison, where he belongs.

Bronson is portrayed in a brilliant turn by Tom Hardy, who reportedly added 35 pounds of brawn to look the part.  His formidable size is intimidating, but Hardy skillfully appears vulnerable when Bronson briefly lets his guard down.  An exaggerated performance of the muscled maniac fits Refn’s theatrical style, combining into an engaging story about a man committed to the art of war.

Key moments in Bronson’s life are illustrated through a Vaudevillian stage show for hundreds of entertained, imaginary audience members.  A continuous exchange between himself and the other half of his face, grease-painted as a woman, recounts the story of how he was committed to a mental institution for a time.

Many of his mannerisms are reminiscent of Day-Lewis’ Bill the Butcher in Gangs of New York.  The wide, gleeful grin sliding from underneath his characteristic facial hair, celebrating another brutal piece with bravado and showmanship.  Or perhaps McDowell’s Alex from A Clockwork Orange, a sneering caricature thoroughly enjoying the wake of his ultraviolence.

The bare bones script by Refn and Brock Norman Brock is kept captivating by an arty visual display of beautiful angles and creative reenactments of raw battles.  Bronson is a simple, showy narrative of a ferocious fighter that poses the question, “What does society do with someone whose craft is violence?”

3.5 out of 5.