Poster from the Shudder Original, Jay Baruchel's 'Random Acts of Violence'
Actor-turned-director Jay Baruchel’s sophomore directorial feature Random Acts of Violence is many things—at times emotional, others intellectual; a shocking gorefest in parts, and an intellectual meta-analysis on gory, shocking art in others. The film has moments that will certainly satisfy die-hard horror fans, but it’s also a film that asks questions. Marked by a strong directorial vision and talented central performances, Random Acts of Violence (premiering on streaming service Shudder August 20th) is an excellent horror-thriller and a great choice for some late-summer spookiness.
Jesse Williams (Grey’s Anatomy) stars as Todd Walkley, the creator of a violent but popular horror comic series Slasherman, controversially based off an in-world real serial killer. Walkley is about to retire the series for good, and decides to visit the town where the prior killings took place while on his press tour. On the trip: girlfriend Kathy (Jordana Brewster of Fast and the Furious fame), assistant Aurora (Niamh Wilson of the Saw franchise), and Todd’s friend/publisher Ezra (played by Baruchel himself). Once arrived to the infamous area of the real-life ‘Slasherman’ killings, the four are shocked to find that the murders have started up again—and closely mimic Walkley’s violent comic creation. I was able to interview Baruchel on the film, it’s influences, and its legacy.
Baruchel has long been known for his roles in films like the popular How to Train Your Dragon series and comedy classics like Knocked Up, as well as his directorial debut with the sports comedy Goon: Last of the Enforcers. It’s a clear shift into the horror territory for Random Acts of Violence, but a shift that, for Baruchel, is a long time coming.
“What prompted me to direct a horror film is a lifetime of passion and interest,” he explained. “I have wanted to make horror movies and action movies since I was a kid, and that hasn't changed… For me, my entire career has been a function of my interest in cinema, not my interest in acting. I'm very, very grateful for the career I've had, truthfully, and really proud of it as well, but I showed up as an actor already wanting to direct. It was the next best thing, and it was a means for me to see a movie from the guts out, and [...] for me to be a part of the art form that means the most to me in the world. I also got to apprentice under a bunch of really, really important masters. … This is all I've ever wanted to do.”
The story itself comes from Image Comics’ 2010 one-shot graphic novel Random Acts of Violence (co-written by Justin Gray and Jimmy Palmiotti). Baruchel and co-writer Jesse Chabot became attached mid-2011, both inspired by the material from their mutual interest in the themes the film presents:
“In the graphic novel that it's based on are some ideas of important, profound interest to us. We loved the kind of questions that it was posing in the sort-of-dialectic contained within it [...] the concept of somebody [with] a broken mind seeing violence and using violence as a form of creative expression seemed to be a tremendously impactful potential allegory for all of the kinds of debates we're most interested in, and so we got stuck in [...] trying to continue the conversation the comic started” the filmmaker added.
“It eventually became a passion project for us, and it sort of veered off and became its own organism, still owing everything to the to the comic. We just dug the conceit of a guy with writer's block being hunted by his own creation. And then there are some interesting questions about [...] responsibility and [what] we put out in [the] roles that we are assuming and [in our] fulfilling systems that we're perpetuating.”
An interesting theme in the film as a whole centers around the use of violent art as a means to process trauma, a debate hovering around Jesse’s choice to immortalize the killings that occurred in the era of his childhood through their use as a source of creative inspiration (anchored by Jesse Williams’ believable embodiment of a deeply conflicted character):
“Even that act of catharsis, which is justifiable to the person undergoing it, still has a repercussion. [...] We were quite interested from the very get-go about trying to shine a light on the cyclical nature of inspiration, how it is always two mirrors faced at one another, but [having] context and justification are not the same as being devoid of responsibility. [...] it was me trying to reconcile my interests and my fascinations with my morality... sometimes there’s a push and pull. At the very least what I want to do is know what I’m putting into me and [...] I took it for granted. I assumed that [...] I was always watching analytically, and that’s just not the case.”
These themes about violent creation/consumption and catharsis, responsibility and legacy, they exist at the front and center of the script. While the film is a self-contained story and effectively avoids heavy-handed exposition, it’s clear what ideas are being wrestled with. At times it’s uncomfortable from a viewer’s perspective, as the clearest moments of this line of thought are often simultaneous to the darkest scenes of the film, leaving the viewer to contend with the potential discomfort of examining the effects of ingesting violent imagery while ingesting violent imagery. It provokes questions that can linger with the thoughtful viewer well after credits roll.
One interesting tidbit from the film’s production: in one scene, actors playing unfortunately terrified kids in an isolated, rain-drenched car weren’t entirely acting. In a must-nail scene involving three rain trucks and a limited amount of time, Baruchel borrowed from the Kubrick/Ridley Scott school of nailing believable scared performances... add a little realism. The actors:
“...were freezing and soaking wet, and I was constantly getting them to scream at the top of their lungs [...] I would send Simon, our killer, over to their car at different times in each take. If he came in 5 seconds in the first take, he’d come in 30 seconds in the second and 15 seconds in the third.”
In each take ‘the killer’ would improvise, escalating and doing unpredictable and different things throughout the take. Before we concluded the call, I asked the filmmaker what horror and other influences impacted him the most as a director:
“There’s nothing scarier than The Exorcist, and the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre... I’d also have to put John Carpenter’s The Thing in there. [... as well as] movies that profoundly —-ed with me and gave me things that I wanted to trigger in people [such as] Irreversible. That movie is heavy as s—- and legitimately scary. I’d say 2001: A Space Odyssey is one of the scariest films ever made. And I would have to put Gravity on there. Gravity is the last movie I can remember that I was legitimately scared by [...] the first half hour of it, my palms were sweating and I was nauseous. I was going to tell my friend I had to meet him in the lobby afterwards, I [didn’t] think I could watch the whole thing.”
Random Acts of Violence is a well-directed and thought-provoking meditation on violence and creativity, showing Baruchel can ably explore bigger-picture concepts through horror conventions. Horror stalwarts will have a lot to enjoy with some shocking and memorable scenes and set-pieces, while fans of intellectual cinema more broadly have more than ample material to engage with the larger questions the film poses. Easily worth your time, you can catch the festival favorite on Shudder when it premieres August 20th.
