Stating the bl***ing obvious

It is rare for a film to turn me off as quickly as this one. I'd read the book of 'We need to talk about Kevin' and I was always hesitant about watching the film, since I knew it would have to be violent, given the subject matter.

What I didn't expect was for the threat of violence to be thrust down my throat from the very start. An attempt at subtlety failed miserably. The fabulous Tilda Swinton, now best known as Aslan's arch-enemy, began the film covered in tomatoes in what was obviously a Spanish holiday and happier times. The whole screen and actors were swamped in red and from that moment on the film-makers strove to get splashes of red into each and every scene.

Okay. I know that the eponymous Kevin was a mass-murderer and the story is his mother's attempt to understand his actions. I don't need constant reminders of the blood that is necessarily such a feature.

Really. Red chairs as Tilda waits for a job interview. Red toys. Red kitchen items. I don't think a single scene missed the drops of blood imagery. In the end, that was all I was looking out for. At that point, I knew I had to hit the eject button.

Flashbacks and fast-forwards served to emphasise that the hint of blood was there throughout the mother's life. Was it her fault? Since she is essentially the only survivor seemingly trying to make sense of the perpetrator of the crime, that seems unfair.

When the film-maker's craft ("Look at how clever I am") takes over, it's time to stop watching.

It made me re-read the book, though.


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