Destroy Everything You Touch

A Review of DESTROYER (2018)
Directed by Karyn Kasuma
Written by Phil Hay and Mat Manfredi
Cinematography by Julie Kirkwood
Score by Theodore Shapiro
Staring Nicole Kidman, Toby Kebbell, Tatiana Maslany, Scoot McNairy, Bradley Whitford, Toby Huss, and Sebastian Stan

Stop me if you've heard this before, but, I have a soft spot for certain kinds of movies. European technothrillers are one of them. Cops-on-the-edge are another. There is just something deeply compelling about people with a strong sense of right and wrong headed for a brick wall at a hundred miles an hour. Destroyer is definitely one of those and it's a pretty good one of those, at that.

The strength of Destroyer is that it's a film that does not want to be liked. It's characters are all assholes and they're all making obvious, if logical mistakes. It stays true to the sub-genre and doesn't ever feel the urge to make its characters have hearts of gold or secret doubts. No, they're just scared apes with shoes that are just smart enough to know that they'll be dead soon. It's a tragedy by way of a police procedural and while it isn't anything shocking or new, it is well put together

The plot of the film centers around Erin Bell (Nicole Kidman), a Los Angeles Police Department detective at the end of her tether. A body is found on the banks of the LA river and Bell, on her own accord, descends into the hell of an undercover case she worked from the beginning of her career. 

And, because we live in a post-True Detective world, her journey takes place across split times, weaving flashbacks into the narrative, showing Kidman’s Erin Bell before she was a complete waste-oid. The film bounces back and forth between young make-up and old make-up until the two narratives meet in a fairly unexpected way and, of course, Bell ends up where all bad cops in these sorts of movies end up: Exactly where she deserves.*

(It's also worth stating that in between the "beginning" of the film and the end of the film, we're treated to several botched bank robberies, lots of scenes of hangovers, and one of the saddest handjobs in all of cinema-- a point of distinction, to be sure.)

Nicole Kidman is the heart of this movie. Without her-- even with the odd bits of brilliant direction-- there is no film. As much as this movie throws wigs and dentures and weird make-up on top of her, Kidman never stops acting natural. She is believable as a bright-eyed young thing, as well as a boozed-up mom that should have been put out to pasture years ago. It's not so much intense as it is this slow motion garbage fire. It's a lot of fun to watch and it's the human heart beating at the center of what could have been an otherwise dreary bit of nihilism.**

One choice that stands out in the film is just how impervious Kidman's Bell is to cop one-liner bullshit. On multiple occasions, the older embittered Kidman character runs up against cops giving  her a ribbing and she just looks at them, as one should any time anyone tries to break your balls, with a look of confusion and contempt. It's a character choice and a script detail that I deeply connect with.

Would I say that I'm a Sebastian Stan stan? Yes, I would.

Sebastian Stan co-stars as a fellow cop/co-conspirator/lover and, as it typical with somebody juggling so many different jobs, it doesn't go great for him. It's always good to see Sebastian Stan and it's especially nice to see him acting in something that is more interesting than a house payment. I like him a lot, both in this movie and in general. I’ve liked him ever since Kings (a show that me and three other people watched). Anyways, go watch Kings.

Oh yeah, I guess he's pretty good in it. I mean, just look at him. He's great. But, also, I really just wanted to mention Kings. It was a great show and it had a lot going for it and the timing just wasn't right for it.

Man. Kings. . .

And speaking of fan favorites and True Detective, this movie has Scoot McNairy! And for once in his fucking career, he gets to play a normal guy who gets to live a normal life! I'll watch him in anything, but it's an especially nice change of pace when you're not counting down the minutes to him getting shot in the back of the head or whatever.

And, to clarify, Scoot was not in Kings, but you should still try to hunt it down anyways.***

The score from Theodore Shapiro is perfect for the film. Like the film itself, it vaccilates between these moments of well-composed beauty to ugly, droning heavy metal****. Like every great score, it both helps establish and amplify the sun-bleached horrorshow world of Destroyer.

Again, maybe I'm a sucker, but I do love me some sunbleached LA set to distorted violin strings. Or maybe it's because I'm American and I've got fuckin' taste.

Like a lot of movies, Destroyer is a movie that kind of came and went. And like a good chunk of those movies, it doesn't deserve that fate. While it isn't anything shockingly new, its stand out achievements in direction and acting elevate the picture above the usual morass of these sorts of stories-- and the sorts of movies that make all of the money these days. Destroyer is a work with a perspective and it sells its ideas with skill and with beauty-- albeit the beauty of a brush fire.

FOOTNOTES:
* And that's maybe why these movies are still tolerable: They're the only avenue in which bad cops actually get what they deserve. What a cool thing.

** On an ironic level, it's also fun to watch Nicole Kidman play "against type," meaning "what if she wasn't attractive?"

*** Seriously, watch Kings. It was only one season long and it's greatest sin was that it came out on network TV right before streaming and prestige TV blew up. It had Ian McShane and Bryan Cox on it!

**** I'm a little less hot on the droning metal part of the soundtrack. Again, as much as I'm a sucker for that sort of a thing, I do find it slightly annoying that, as a society, we all decided that traditional symphonic scores were just going to be replaced by synths being records in the next apartment over. I mean, whatever. It usually works. I shouldn't complain.

James Kislingbury is a writer, podcaster, and does not smoke indoors. Must be losing his touch. You can listen to him here and here. You can shovel piles of lucre at him here and here.