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| Eva and the three Kevins |
The fact that the film was not wildly successful at the U.S. box office, and did not garner the substantial awards that it deserved (Oscar and otherwise), suggests that the pervasive American cultural obsession with self-sacrificing, perfectionist mothering rendered Eva the true "monster" of the film. Upon showing the film to one of my classes, I was surprised at how few of my students held any sympathy for Eva at all. Sure, many of them are much closer in age (and life experience) to the older Kevin, and are actively in the process of accepting/demonizing/forgiving their parents for present disagreements and past sins. Yet some of them were quick to tell me that Kevin's behavior is not beyond the realm of how "normal" or "average" kids might behave at various stages in their lives. Really? And Yikes! I'll stick to my fervent motto, "No kids, only kittens." With seven billion people on the planet, I figure I'm doing everyone a favor on this one.
A HORROR TALE IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE
The film begins with some very abject imagery as Eva is wafted through the crowd covered in tomato splatterings while attending a festival in Spain. She's a travel author, and this moment, riding high amongst a sea of revelers, is represented as simultaneously orgasmic and unsettling. One of my students pointed out that she's emulating Christ here, and believe me, that's no accident. Eva's punishes herself and is punished for all of her son's sins, and Ramsay illustrates this punishment through countless scenes where wet crimson fills the frame.
In Kevin's early moments, Eva's home and car are splashed with red paint, and Eva spends the entire film meticulously scrubbing, scraping, and removing the scarlet hue.
Still, Eva's never able to fully expunge the guilt she feels toward her son's violent acts, and allows others to abuse her at every turn. Beyond the aforementioned property splatter, she's violently slapped after exiting a job interview, harassed and menaced by a variety of Halloween revelers, has all of her eggs broken (symbolic!!) as she hides from a woman at the supermarket, and tolerates malicious sexual slurs from a co-worker that only escalate when she gently rejects his interest in dancing with her. Her continual utterance of "it's my fault" or "I deserve it" in the face of these slights feels inevitable within a narrative that constantly absolves her husband, Franklin (John C. Reilly) of any responsibility.
He's the loving Dad upon whom Kevin bestows his rare smiles. He is also the patriarch who disbelieves Eva's concerns and suspicions toward Kevin at every turn. Franklin's fate ultimately lets him off the hook (as fathers so often are left), for he never has to face what kind of monster his son actually is. And what of Kevin?
Kevin's birth scene is shot through a refracted reflection off of one of the birthing room's cold metal surfaces, and the nurse intones "Eva, stop resisting" as she screams in agony. No Hollywood smiles or tears of joy here. Eva suffers from severe postpartum depression, as so many women do, and the film explicitly shows the struggles and strains of early parenting--ones only Eva appears to experience.
None of these early experiences are beyond the realm of ordinary. Some babies sleep like blessed little lambs, while others emit ear shattering shrieks and refuse to sleep or settle. Kevin's clearly in the latter camp. So it's only when Kevin is old enough to be played by a bevy of dour, sullen, sinister actors that one starts to actually think that Kevin might not be your average "problem child."
Kevin, from a very early age, looks at Eva with a frothing combination of loathing and contempt, and the scene where she benignly tries to play ball with him is one of my favorites. Of course, Franklin's absence from these early scenes makes Kevin's behavior toward Eva all the more fraught. As a comment about "wishing she was in France" indicates, Eva's ambivalent about parenting and misses her life before she became defined as a mother.
Like some unstoppable malevolent force, Kevin controls Eva at every turn, stripping her of any life outside of him. Whenever she takes a tentative step toward happiness, or even tries to make a connection with him, he makes sure she knows that those attempts are pointless. He'll spray paint all over her lovely "room of one's own," just as he will boldly shit in his pants, glaring at her, as soon as she changes his diaper. He defiantly resists potty training to well into his 6th or 7th year, and only "learns" after Eva hurls him across the room and inadvertently breaks his arm. Now one might think--Child Abuse!--and in other films, I might wholeheartedly agree. As a testament to Ramsay's filmmaking skills, Eva's violent reaction seems not only justified, but a relief. She finally does what we all wish, but we also know in our hearts is absolutely wrong. Now in The Omen, Gregory Peck's violence toward his son seems like the only possible move. Well, times have changed!
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| Unfortunately, Kevin's not dead |
Some of my students were surprised and shocked that Eva decides to have another child, and the film discursively suggests that this new arrival (who turns out to be a girl) is unwanted by both father and son. Celia (Ashley Gurasimovich) is a warm, friendly, and sweet kid, which proves in many ways to Eva that her eggs are not actually "broken," and that Kevin is just bad "luck of the draw" or a losing ticket in the genetic lottery.
Kevin the teenager, as embodied by Ezra Miller, is simply fascinating and horrifying. He plays games with his little sister where he ties her up and gags her, he clearly puts her guinea pig in the garbage disposal, he somehow gets her to pour drain cleaner in her eye, and then sadistically eats some crazy eyeball-like fruit at the dinner table with obvious gusto.
The day that Franklin decides to gift him with a bow and arrow for Christmas is the proverbial "writing on the wall" for the rest of the family, and Kevin's school mates as well. Every year brings an ever more violent and powerful bow and arrow gift! The film implies that our thirst for violent entertainment, and our turning killers into "celebrities" spurs Kevin to make his violent moves....but really. C'mon. One only has to recall that all of this mess started when Eva read Kevin Robin Hood.
Events finally crystallize from their hazy first representations, as the spectator sees, with Eva, what Kevin has wrought. On returning home in shock and horror from the high school, Eva finds her home empty, only the sounds of her suburban sprinkler marring the dead quiet that surrounds her. When she re-emerges from the backyard, covered in blood and stumbling through the french doors, one thinks that she cannot survive any more horrors. Yet she does, seemingly waiting for Kevin's release from prison, interested in taking up the mantle of motherhood once more. Maybe this time she'll get it right.
We Need to Talk about Kevin, like George Ratliff's Joshua (2007), is a fierce cautionary tale, situated in a world in which one must love one's children at any cost. In this same world, Mothers still shoulder the majority of blame for their kid's actions, even if it's uncertain how much "nature" or "nurture" is involved. Eva cannot win either way.
"No Kids, Only Kittens." And honestly, do we need to talk about kittens?
