Upon hearing tell of Joe (Matthew McConaughey) a police detective who moonlights as a hitman Chris (Emile Hirsch) convinces his dim-witted father Hansel (Thomas Hayden Church) to help him arrange the death of his estranged mother to cash in on her life insurance policy, thus enabling him to pay off a debt to a local gangster. Caught in a Catch-22 of payment required up front but having no money until the deed is done, Joe instead decides to take Chris’s sister Dottie (Juno Temple) as a “retainer, a situation she proves not exactly averse to.
The simplest of plots often yield the most effective of stories. The stage play origins of Killer Joe are made clear with lengthy scenes in single settings that are more focused on the characters than exposition. As the driving force of the film, Chris is given the most room for development, with his unravelling scheming eventually resulting in his realisation that he’s nowhere near as smart as he thinks he is.
Hansel is almost pitiable, having an IQ roughly equal to his chest size; when asked if he was aware of a late revelation, he simply replies “I’m never aware, ironically showing more self-awareness here than at any other point. When it becomes clear that Chris might not be all that brighter than his father, you’re not too sure which of them to feel sorrier for. Gina Gershon as Hansel’s new wife Sharla is ambitious and selfish, although the true extent of her manipulations comes late in the film.
Out of the whole severely dysfunctional family, it’s Dottie who is the most intriguing. Her true age is never revealed, and with her almost dreamlike outlook on life combined with the ethereal quality of Temple’s features, she could be anywhere from 16 to 25. One moment she can be shy, naïve and innocent, while in the next she becomes a smouldering ball of sultry desire. You’re never sure quite how perverse any kind of sexual attraction to her would be, and that’s probably the point.
However, as you’d expect it’s the eponymous character who proves the most interesting. McConaughey’s Joe is a man of magnetic intensity. His every action is an exercise in economy of movement, and each word out of his mouth is clear, concise and never extraneous. His arctic glare suggests you only continue breathing at his indulgence; as Dottie observes in her inimitable manner, “Your eyes hurt. He remains utterly inscrutable throughout proceedings, his perversions of dominance the only inkling of his true character we ever receive.
Inevitably, Robert Burns’s oft-quoted maxim on the unreliability of forward planning comes into play, and it’s how everyone reacts at this juncture that reveals what they’re truly capable of and makes you question just how much sympathy any of them really deserve.
Overall Verdict: Along with overlooked 2003 effort The Hunted, Killer Joe is easily William Friedkin’s best film in the last two decades. Simple, dark and uncompromising, it’s a trailer trash noir that pulls no punches right up to its tragic denouement and will stay with you long after the credits roll.
Reviewer: Andrew Marshall