Director: Viggo Mortensen
Screenplay: Viggo Mortensen
Starring: Vicky Krieps, Viggo Mortensen, Solly McLeod, Garret Dillahunt, Colin Morgan, Ray McKinnon, Luke Reilly, Atlas Green, Danny Huston
Country: Canada / Denmark
Running Time: 129 minutes
Year: 2023
Written and directed by Viggo Mortensen (Lord of the Rings, Green Book), who also stars alongside Vicky Krieps (Phantom Thread, Bergman Island), The Dead Don’t Hurt is a cinematic western that is both epic and intimate. Set against the tumultuous backdrop of 1860s frontier America, The Dead Don’t Hurt is a powerful story of love and survival, conflict and revenge.
The opening of The Dead Don’t Hurt immediately reminded me of Clint Eastwood’s unfussy direction. In particular Pale Rider, itself somewhat taking its lead from High Plains Drifter. Unforgiven is so obvious it’s dull to mention it (sorry), but Viggo Mortensen’s elegiac story is no pastiche. Even with the story being set in a corrupt town like its forebears. But if you’re going to make a Western, a reliable starting point is picking a well-trodden bassline. Ford, Siegel, Eastwood or Leone. Or Costner for that matter.
I write this as someone who lists Dances With Wolves amongst their favourite films, while Horizon is noisily crashing and burning at the box office. I’ve no idea how that messy folly is going to turn out, but why the fuss? Viggo is proving, along with Jane Campion’s recent Power of the Dog, that the Western genre is alive and well. Vital, challenging work is there to be mined from the supposedly dead genre. And make no mistake, it is a Western. Some think it’s merely a drama, probably due to the lack of gunplay? But that simply shows a misunderstanding of the genre.
The Dead Don’t Hurt is bitter and cynical, cut through with the blackest of humour, but it rests on beautifully judged performances. Through Mortensen and Vicki Krieps the film is romantic and occasionally, unashamedly, sentimental. But it is a Western, right down to its dusty boots.
An eccentric narrative underpins a film that delights in detail. A few plot threads wander as often as its propensity for timeline skipping which might alienate some viewers, but a generous runtime and Mortensen’s own delightful score maintains an elegant, melancholy consistency. The setting and timeline are epic and the emotion drills down to a handful of individuals whose side you might not want to leave. It weaves a spell as only a film can; I’m looking at you, 1883, but many others too. I’m exhausted by TV streaming, staring down the barrel of 10 episodes that could have been a film if anyone involved had the slightest understanding of story-telling.
Mortensen directs a quirky, eccentric and relevant story within a one-and-done format. From the enigmatic opening to breathtaking credits, it’s an assured and lively film. A touch of unpredictability comes in the warm performances of his cast and Mortensen (American, but lived in Denmark for many years) brings a lot of himself into Olsen, a contrary man, permanently out-of-place yet seemingly comfortable in an aimless existence. His devotion to his wife (Krieps) is absolute and inarguable, and so is his need to leave her.
Neither sentiment contradicts the other, even though she is heartbroken. He promises to return -indeed, we know he will, thanks to the back to front plot- but written on her face is the furious frustration of generations of women left to tend the house. That is until the dangerous Weston (Solly McLeod), supported by his cold father (Garret Lee Dillahunt) and corrupt Mayor Danny Huston, sets in motion a series of events that will quiet Mortensen into steely resolve.
A different mode comes into view on Olsen’s return from the war. A sad one. Things have changed, but the family unit has become tighter. I’d come to love these characters and feel their emotions. Especially poignant is the accents of both principal characters, emphasising their isolation. Their homesickness for Europe is palpable, which is unusual. The actual Wild West was a relatively brief period of time contrary to the impression the movies give us and it’s rare for genre cowboys to remember the old world. Europe is but a dream away in Viggo Mortensen’s America.
