In many ways, Lynne Ramsay’s latest film, You Were Never Really Here, is something you’ve seen before. Adapted from Jonathan Ames’ book of the same name, it’s a film about a man with a violent past who has to track down a girl taken by some really bad guys. The man, in this film’s case, is Joe (Joaquin Phoenix). Through glimpses of memory, we see that he was at one point a combat officer, and later an FBI agent, but now works as a hired gun, specifically to find girls who have been trafficked. He gets a new gig, looking for the daughter of a New York state senator, but things don’t go quite the way he hoped it would, leading him to realize that the situation was a lot more complicated than originally thought.
In keeping one foot in the “daddy with a particular set of skills” subgenre of action movies like Taken, and the other foot in psychological dramas about broken male psyches like Taxi Driver, Ramsay is able to accomplish something really special here out of material we have seen before. And a lot of it comes down to sheer craft involved. With films like Taxi Driver, we get to be an observer to individuals haunted by their past, but with this, Ramsay throws us deep into Joe’s nightmarish headspace. Visions of his traumatic childhood, the violence from his combat overseas, to his unfortunate discoveries in an FBI raid all pop into the frame like nervous ticks. You know it’s coming after a while, but it never stop feeling the weight of the images, the physical scars they left behind, and the mental scars they continue to carve.
But unlike Taken, or even – to a degree – films like Taxi Driver, Ramsay never fully allows the audience to feel a catharsis or joy in the violence. The film doesn’t revel in explosions of gore and blood splatter, the bursts of violence are often just off-screen, leaving us only the ugly aftermath. She is making it clear that there is nothing in this to be enjoyed. There’s no cheer moment, and there’s no attempt to make anything “cool.” As a result, when we do get a glimpse of what Joe does to people after the action is over, it shows violence for the messy, unsentimental, and nauseating thing that it truly is.
As contemplative and thoughtful as it is, the film is a lean 90 minutes. Everything is stripped to the bone here, only allowing us to have the information that Joe knows at any given point. Ramsay is able to use both Thomas Townend’s cinematography to relay information almost exclusively through what is and isn’t in front of the camera, and Joe Bini’s editing to keep things moving along in a way that is smooth, breathless, and consistently intense. It’s very much an experience movie, one where a great filmmaker is able to utilize all the tools of cinema into creating an economic, impressionistic fever dream. And how could I not mention the incredible score from Jonny Greenwood, who delivers what might be his best score yet. Its anxious, nerve wracking, and manic nature complements the fractured energy of the film and Joe himself.
Speaking of Joe, Ramsay’s biggest asset is, without a doubt, Joaquin Phoenix. His bruised and brawny physicality tells countless stories of its own. His build is intimidating, but notably ordinary in its lack of the typical action hero abs and whatnot. But for as big as he comes across, he is fairly mumbly and soft spoken. Though, something you might not expect from him are the moments of very dark humor. Bringing to mind something like Harold and Maude, they often revolve around Joe’s suicidal tendencies, which aren’t played for laughs, but they have a somewhat absurdist edge to them, as do a number of other moments in the film. It’s yet another layer that Ramsay is able to put in place with extreme precision, and any lesser filmmaker would have botched those moments.
You Were Never Really Here sort of feels like one of those thought experiments where you and maybe some friends imagine what a movie would look like “if (insert filmmaker here) did (insert genre here),” with this one being “if Lynne Ramsay made an arthouse version of Taken, what would that look like?” Well, we have our answer, and it’s actually rather astonishing. For the entire runtime, I sank into my seat, completely unnerved, distressed, and unprepared for whatever came next. The power of Ramsay’s craft and Phoenix’s performance, among many other things, leave you completely vulnerable, and at their mercy. I haven’t had an experience like this in a long time. The film takes something you’ve seen before, but manages to present it in a way that is haunting, evocative, and visceral. It envelops you into its sinister world, and never lets go until it’s done with you, leaving you in a daze. The film is absolutely stunning, and a total knockout from one of the finest filmmakers out there today. I sincerely hope we don’t have to wait another seven years for Lynne Ramsay’s next picture.