And History Begets...what?

Just recently, M and I went to see Cronenberg's latest project (written by Josh Olsen), A History of Violence. I don't think I really want to say much about the film. I will say that, at the moment, I feel as though it is to Cronenberg what Mulholland Drive is to Lynch. I've often been known to remark in private conversation, and with the right audience, that I believe Mulholland is Lynch's most successful film. I don't mean this in terms of box office, or that it is his best film, or even that it is his most interesting film. I mean something completely different.

I find that directors like Lynch and Cronenberg are storytellers with stutters. I have a dear friend that has suffered from a terrible stutter his entire life (he's now in his late 70s, I believe, and just happens to be a film geek, too.) As is apparently not uncommon to the condition, the harder he tries to say whatever it is he's trying to say, the more pronounced his stutter becomes until it renders him mute. This is, I believe, the case with both Lynch and Cronenberg. Each has been trying to say the same thing—to express the same concept—for a very long time and with varying degrees of success. Like Mulholand Drive was for Lynch, I think A History of Violence is Cronenberg finally relaxing enough to just "spit it out" and say what he's been struggling with for so long.

So what is it he's been trying to say? I'm not going to tell you. As a Cronenberg fanatic—I've actually taught him extensively in a Philosophy & Society course—I think it's obvious what he's on about. In this film, it should be more than obvious what he's on about; at least on the surface. If it isn't, you shouldn't be allowed to watch another film for the rest of you (apparently very pathetic) existence.

But what I want to be on about is this question of violence. I have never been violent. That is, I have never been overtly violent. I have friends who have the potential for great violence (one holds some ridiculously high degree in Goju Ryu, and another was a Scout in the Marines.) I have other friends (perhaps I should call them "acquaintances" to establish sufficient legal distance) that have killed both "for their country" and "for their pride."

What I wonder at is which of us is the most violent.

What you should wonder at is why I might wonder about such things.