NDNF: Tyrannosaur

There are many films that capture the bleak landscape of humanity, with an emphasis on the treatment of women, that come across as manipulative, misogynistic, forced, and/or sadistic. No such thing in Tyrannosaur. Although it doesn't deliver on the title's promise for dinosaurs, the film's tone is as vicious and ferocious as the title would suggest (including in how the title ultimately functions in the narrative). Paddy Considine's directing debut here is one of extraordinarily crisp vision, painting a portrait of a lifestyle and of a people so removed from the rest of popular society. It's a world of grit, heartbreak, pain, screams, tension, cynicism, and dogs. Perhaps the greatest testament to his work, however, which is easily believed considering his own celebrated acting career, is the delicate touch he has with his already very capable performers. Peter Mullan's career is celebrated in Europe but has gone long overlooked in the United States, though I think that may change later this year with a role more meaty than he's ever sunk his teeth into before. It's a man he very easily could have overplayed, but even his scenes of emotional outburst are painted with layers of subtlety and subtext that may very well not be topped by any performance for the rest of this year. Olivia Colman equals him in many scenes and offers a glimpse into the flipside — the nightmarish world of the middle class often kept hushed, including the many secrets she holds throughout the film. She's a character who's immediately gone through more than Mullan's character at the hands of her frightening husband (Eddie Marsan, as good as he's ever been short of Happy-Go-Lucky). The ending is appropriately less bleak in offering closure to the film, yet never resolutely tying it conveniently with a bow nor offering a worldview any less pessimistic than it always had. By the end, people's lives are dirt. And no matter what you do, they're always going to be dirt.