Somber, dark, morose, slow, methodical and chillingly dry. These are the words that first come to mind when attempting to describe Bennett Miller‘s Foxcatcher. Wholly atmospheric, relying so little on Rob Simonsen‘s elegiac score and more so on Greig Fraser‘s subdued cinematography, there is an alien, other-worldly feel to it. Environments typically captured on film, from a horse ranch to the USA Olympic wrestling trials, aren’t presented in high contrast colors, but instead, all in a muted color palette, making sure you aren’t distracted from the narrative at hand and the snarling undercurrent of tension that’s building from the opening scene until the credits roll.
With a screenplay from E. Max Frye and Dan Futterman (Capote) that took seven years to finally come together, Foxcatcher tells of John Eleuthere du Pont (Steve Carell), heir to the du Pont family fortune, avid ornithologist, wrestling fanatic and a friendless loner living at his family’s Foxcatcher Farms with his ailing mother (Vanessa Redgrave). This is the story of how du Pont convinced Olympic wrestling, gold medalist siblings Mark and Dave Schultz (Channing Tatum and Mark Ruffalo) to begin training for the World Championships and 1988 Olympics as a part of Team Foxcatcher and the chilling events that followed.
Du Pont’s invitation is initially refused by Dave, unwilling to uproot his family, but Mark, a character I’m not sure I will ever be able to fully comprehend, accepts with enthusiasm and the initial roots of Team Foxcatcher begin to take hold. What comes next no one should be told until they experience it for themselves.
There’s no easy way to boil this film down into a couple of quick sentences, nor should anyone try. Each scene is important, and as much as we often discuss the layers being peeled away in films, revealing the true reason we’re watching, Foxcatcher works almost in reverse. Miller is in no rush to tell his story. It isn’t about peeling away layers as much as it’s a matter of adding context while the beast in the basement pounds at the floorboards until the whole house collapses around us.
In du Pont, Carell has created one of the most singularly creepy and terrifying characters you’ll see on the big screen. Clearly a man that has never wanted for anything, yet never felt the love he craves from his mother, du Pont shuffles around his sprawling estate, speaking in hushed tones, and you never feel at ease when he’s on screen. His gaze alone, as if looking through confused and tired eyes, is enough to send a chill down your spine.
Mark, on the other hand, is an even greater mystery to me. When we first meet him he’s speaking in front of a group of elementary school children and next he’s training with his brother. Instability and violence are all you see in this brute of a man. He’s like a bull in a china shop, a man you wouldn’t want to be around when he cracks and he looks as if he could crack at any moment. One scene in particular finds Mark on a stationary bike, a hooded sweatshirt covering most of his face, but Tatum’s eyes are burning with a fire as fierce as I’ve ever seen. Tatum’s performance is largely understated, but when Mark explodes… watch out, because you don’t want to be in this animal’s way.
Then there’s Dave, the most down-to-earth of the trio. Dave has got a great family life — wife (Sienna Miller in mom jeans with a perm) and two kids — but his relationship with Mark is a curious one. Dave seems just as unable to figure his brother out as we are and balances this confusion through compassion, concern, love and understanding, but at every turn he seems as if he’s grasping at straws.
In the end, Miller has created a film so packed with tension it oozes out of every scene. You’re constantly on edge and made uncomfortable with every minute du Pont is on screen. As an audience it’s impossible to ever feel comfortable within any frame of this atmospheric, art house horror. Miller plays it incredibly slow, unwilling to ever compromise what he’s building toward just to offer up a formulaic moment of reprieve. You’re left to simmer in the ugliness that’s brewing beneath the surface, all leading to a moment that left my audience audibly gasping, and it’s not often I can say that.
