When someone has experienced an unspeakable tragedy, there is very little that can be done to soothe a broken soul – but for some, accountability is more than enough to push them towards a place of healing. This isn’t always necessarily easy to acquire, especially not when it involves people who don’t understand the enormity of a loss. This is the primary impetus behind Red, the film directed by Lucky McKee and Trygve Allister Diesen (the latter being brought on to direct part of the film when the former was forced to leave the production, for reasons that have never been disclosed), which centres around many of these themes, exploring them with a complexity that elevates it beyond being middling fare. Telling the story of a reserved veteran of the Korean War who finds himself at odds with a group of rebellious teenagers after an attempted robbery ends in the death of his beloved dog, the film is a heartwrenching and deeply provocative psychological thriller that brings out all the elements we have grown to appreciate with this genre, examining the human condition in between moments of tense violence and terrifying games of manipulation as we see our protagonist venturing forward to try and find some resolution to what he hopes was just an act of childish bad behaviour, rather than an indication of the darkness that lingers beneath the surface of his small town, which he comes to realize is the case as his journey moves from seeking an apology to one aimed at getting revenge on the people who caused his suffering, as well as those who enable and condone these actions. Tense and profoundly disturbing, but also impactful in a way that may come as something of a surprise, Red is an excellent example of what can be done when the simplest premise is reconfigured to have even more meaning than any of us may have initially imagined.

When looking at a film like Red, it seems like it was made following some very strict conventions, which is probably the case. There is very little on the surface that suggests that it was ever intended to be some astonishing and bespoke work, but rather one that adhered to conventions in a way that didn’t suggest a lack of originality, but rather the decision to stay true to what usually works when it comes to this genre. It seems to be quite a traditional psychological thriller, and it doesn’t do much at first to deviate from this fact. However, as it progresses we start to see what screenwriter Stephen Susco was aiming to convey when he adapted the novel by Jack Ketchum (who makes a small but surprising appearance in the film), which was to examine the human condition through the perspective of a man who has grown weary about his place in the world and the people who occupy it, and who is driven to a state of desiring violent retribution as a result of one poor decision by another person, which sets off a series of harrowing events, none of them needing to be justified due to the nature of what caused them to occur in the first place. It is a tightly-wound and extraordinarily tense film, and despite the film stalling mid-production, during which point the aforementioned switch between directors occurred, there is a consistency in terms of the tone and overall emotional content that this film very easily conveys, which assists in preventing it from feeling too formulaic, even if it didn’t make too much of a concerted effort to be entirely original. However, credit should be given for the decision to attempt to follow conventions, since there is a reason why films like this work so well, especially in instances where they prove to have their own unique identity in other areas, which is absolutely the case with this film.

In terms of the filmmaking itself, Red is impressive, even if it is still quite traditional. Interestingly, while it was never intended to be the case, having two very different directors at the helm at certain points did add a level of complexity to the film as a whole. Essentially, we have the brutal Nordic terror that Diesen brings, while McKee (known for his work in independent horror) provides a level of disconcerting fear and tension that serves as the foundation for the film. It almost feels as if the two directors worked in dialogue with one another, albeit at different points, since it is very difficult to discern who was responsible for certain parts, the entire film being synchronized perfectly under the overall tone set by the original novel, which is in itself a fascinating text to dissect in terms of how it explores the hunger for revenge that some feel in moments of fear and insecurity, especially right after a tragic event. The work being done by the creative and technical team is astonishing – director of photography Harald Gunnar Paalgard captures the landscapes of what is assumed to be somewhere along the Pacific Northwest so beautifully, the cinematography being almost contradictory to the bleak tone set by the story. Not necessarily traditional in its aesthetic appeal, but rather a case of a cinematographer knowing precisely what should be framed (even if it wasn’t a particularly obvious choice), with the gorgeous locations being part of the subversive charm that governs this film. A work like Red can only work with the right balance of a strong screenplay and a group of collaborators willing to take a by-the-numbers premise and transform it into something deeply compelling, without breaking tradition too regularly or going against the self-imposed standards that usually define this genre.

Despite having been a working actor for half a century, it has only been recently that we have truly started to appreciate Brian Cox and his immense, unique talents. Not a traditional leading man by any means, but still someone who regularly challenged himself to take roles that went against the grain, there has never been a performance that he has given that doesn’t feel thoughtful and compelling, regardless of the size of the part and the amount of time he has on screen. Red may not be considered his finest work, nor is it the film with which most people will associate him, but it still stands as an exceptional showcase of his talents, which seemed to be the entire purpose of the film. Despite a strong cast (which includes an eclectic assemblage of the likes of Robert Englund, Amanda Plummer, Tom Sizemore and Kim Dickens), Red belongs squarely to Cox, who appears from the first moment to the last, and commands the screen at every turn, which is something we have come to expect from him. What may not be expected is how nuanced this performance is – there are certainly some moments of ferocity (since it seems wasteful to cast Cox in a film in which he doesn’t have a handful of moments in which his booming anger can be shown), but it is a relatively more subtle performance in comparison to some of his other work, a meditative and thoughtful examination of the inner psychology of a man who has endured enormous hardship in his life, and whose tranquil existence was once again disturbed by the violent actions of others, which provokes his retaliation. It’s a masterful performance that perfectly blends rage and tenderness, with Cox constantly finding ways to surprise us with his approach to the material, resulting in some of his greatest work to date.

Red is not a particularly well-known film – the relatively non-descript title and ambiguous premise (which some may even see as a more rustic forerunner to the John Wick series, which are sparked by a similar story), as well as the lack of attention all being factors in its slight obscurity, which is unfortunately the fate that awaits several well-made, meaningful independent films, particularly those that don’t have the funding to make themselves known to a wider audience. Yet, there is something oddly captivating about a film that can achieve so much despite not being seen by too much of the population. It’s likely the majority of viewers will stumble onto this film almost entirely by accident, but it is one of those films that immediately grabs the audience’s attention, and never releases it until the final haunting moments, taking us on a thrilling and often quite unsettling journey, the likes of which we don’t often come across, at least not in terms of the emotional content that occurs at the heart of the story. Brilliantly directed and anchored by yet another excellent performance by the mighty Brian Cox (who delivers everything he could when playing this role), Red is a very strong effort that deserves much more than the shroud of obscurity that it has developed over the years. It may not be particularly original, and its ideas have certainly been covered in several other films that have been given greater exposure – but yet it is this film that keeps us engaged, with its strong visual style, unsettling but powerful story and ability to temper its emotions to be neither too subdued nor excessive, all being major reasons behind its impact, which may be small, but is nonetheless a strong indication of the quality of this captivating, thrilling and unsettling drama that knows precisely how to capture our attention, as well as maintaining it as far as it could potentially go before becoming excessive.