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| Review: Straw Dogs |
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The setting has been moved from Cornwall to Mississippi. Even the fictional town’s name, Blackwater, a reference to the Doobie Brothers’ anthem, is an ode to Southern stereotypes. David seems as horrified by deep-fried pickles as of the locals who consider ogling women and bar brawls hobbies. Yet this is not the first time that the Deep South is portrayed as a deeply backwards culture that equates football with God, and due to our comparison with similar films, director Rod Lurie has to try particularly hard to find something more horrifying. Deliverance comes to mind, but executes the concept of the fine line between civilised man and homicidal maniac much more astutely. Lurie has to rely on convoluted subplots commenting on sex, violence and machismo with dubious conclusions. This opaqueness could be transcended by his actors, who need to pile up as much moral ambiguity as they do corpses as the original did. However, Marsden is too bland to make his transformation from condescending brainiac to brutal killer intriguing. Skarsgard needs to be the right mix of compelling and calculating and is almost too good at this role, as we realise he actually has more chemistry with Bosworth as her rapist than Marsden does as her husband. Bosworth strikes the perfect balance of a woman waging war against her Southern principles and personal principles. She effectively turns her character into more than just a victim. Nevertheless, we become the victim of a haphazard and totally unnecessary film. There is no reason for a moral pot boiler like this to be remade, and as a result, it’s merely tepid. Newer news items:
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