Just as the hero of Shane was a former gunslinger who wanted to live down his past and lead a normal life with a decent family, so is Tom Stall (Mortensen), a former contract-killer trying to keep his head down and be a good small-town family man. When a couple of spree-killers invade his diner, however, Tom is forced to use his lethal skills, and his heroism turns him into a regional celebrity. Soon, a Philadelphia gangster (Ed Harris) with a scarred face and a brace of plug-uglies turns up to reminisce about the old days, forcing an even bloodier exhibition of Tom's deadly know-how. Just as Shane had to strap on his shooting irons one last time, so must Tom head back to Philly and face down the past in order to protect his family -- even if that family feels betrayed and wants nothing more to do with him.

To work at all, A History of Violence must keep us wondering and worrying about Tom from the first minute to the last. Why did he renounce his old life, and how far beneath the surface has his old identity really gone? Can a man really turn his back on a lifetime of evil? What do his loved ones owe him, when they discover that their very existence is based on lies? The seriousness of the film's tone, and Howard Shore's elegiac music, herald something deeper and more probing than standard action-film fare, which treats violence as a one-size-fits-all solution devoid of consequences. The weak script by Josh Olsen (taken from a graphic novel by John Wagner and Vince Locke, who may share the blame) offers clichés instead of questions, and manipulation rather than exploration.

The film stacks the deck right from the start by showing us the spree killers checking out of a motel, pausing along the way to slaughter the owner, his wife and, in a sickeningly drawn-out sequence, their whimpering daughter. This opening acts as a benediction for Tom: throughout the film, there is never any doubt that his opponents deserve to be killed, and his violence never harms any innocent bystanders. Even when Tom's son, apparently inspired by his father's example, lashes out and hospitalizes a school bully, the film presents it as a thoroughly righteous butt-whipping. The mutually degrading nature of violence -- its corrosive effect on the aggressor as well as the victim -- is skittered past. That's par for the course with most films, but A History of Violence consistently presents itself as something more, only to just as consistently deliver something less.

Most of Cronenberg's films are concerned with the loss or alteration of identity, whether physical (The Brood, The Fly), mental (Dead Ringers, Spider) or technological (Videodrome, (i>ExistenZ), and A History of Violence could have been his most subtle and down-to-earth exploration of the theme. We get hints of the genuinely adult movie that might have been in the depiction of Tom's marriage to Edie (Maria Bello), and the aforementioned sex scenes. The first is a bit of spicy role-playing, made ironic by the fact that Edie wants to invent a teenage past for a man who has invented far more than that. The second is a brutal near-rape, following the revelation of Tom's true nature, that reveals the attractiveness and repulsiveness of violence, and the way it is bound up in sexuality. It also shows Tom attempting to reassert his place in Edie's life, by means that risk the utter destruction of his marriage.

That's why it feels like a betrayal when the finale of A History of Violence descends into comic book action, with Tom dispatching an entire mansion's worth of thugs as easily as Billy Jack pulverized a park full of rednecks -- Mortensen even has his own version of Tom Laughlin's trademarked slow burn, in which a slow, reasonable tone of voice signals major pain just around the corner. The thing of it is, the sequence -- highlighted by a delightfully unexpected cameo by William Hurt -- is great fun, and just this side of believable. But it doesn't belong in this movie. It belongs in the kind of dumb action flick A History of Violence was supposed to stand on its head.

This version of Shane doesn't end with the gunman riding off into the sunset. Instead, Tom returns to hearth and home, not sure of what he will find. As it turns out, he finds acceptance and maybe even forgiveness, but our final look at his haunted face shows that he will never again be comfortable in this life -- he feels irreparably stained by his return to the bad old ways. Viggo Mortensen can communicate more with a glance than many actors can manage with an extended speech, and that final shot is full of loss and mourning for what had been. A movie about that guy would be complex, knotty and full of grownup drama. I really want to see that movie. Too bad A History of Violence isn't it.

I felt the disappointment too...it could have been a great film, instead of a moderately entertaining okay film...I enjoyed the pace, I thought it was acted well, but I couldn't get around the simple fact that the whole mystery was whether he was joey or not...and when that was given away what was left? This is the best review I have read of that movie.

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