Heading out to the highway: LOCKE

If you've read my blog entry from a few years back praising British actor Tom Hardy, it's pretty obvious that I'd watch the guy in just about anything - he's that good. (My wife accuses me of having a man crush on him, which I will neither confirm nor deny.) Imagine my excitement, then, when I heard about Locke, a film that's essentially all Tom Hardy, all the time. Locke takes place almost entirely within the confines of an automobile driven by the titular Ivan Locke (Hardy), a successful construction foreman specializing in concrete foundations. On the eve of what is to be the pinnacle of his career - the largest civilian concrete pour in Europe, setting the foundation for a 55-story tower - Locke buckles himself into his BMW and begins a journey that will change his life forever over the course of a couple of hours. Leaving the massively complex project in the hands of an experienced but hesitant underling, he heads for a London hospital to meet the imminent birth of his newest child. En route, it quickly becomes evident to us that the mother of the child is not Locke's wife, and the explosiveness of the situation comes into sharp focus. On top of that, he's leaving his company in the lurch and potentially risking a very expensive mess if everything doesn't go just right the next morning. Using the Bluetooth phone in his car, Locke makes and receives a series of calls to his wife, the baby's mother and his co-workers, all the while trying desperately to mitigate the damage caused by his indiscretion. As he travels from point A to point B, his carefully constructed life comes crashing down around him.

  

When a film takes place in a single location with a only a single actor on camera, you'd better make sure that actor has the chops to carry the film, and Hardy certainly does. Sporting a lilting accent that was unfamiliar to me but is apparently Welsh, Hardy is the sole focus of Locke from beginning to end. The knowledge that the camera will be on them virtually non-stop might tempt a lesser actor to show off, but Hardy never does. It's a quiet, reserved performance, not at all like his larger-than-life turns in Bronson or The Dark Knight Rises. Locke remains relatively placid throughout, at least while he's on the phone, but Hardy subtly shades his performance while mostly avoiding the big emotions we might expect, save for a handful of key scenes. In fact, while freeze-framing through a couple of scenes to get the perfect screen captures for this post, I was fascinated to see the how Hardy's expressions changed ever-so-slightly from one frame to the next. The effect is nearly subliminal, and it only increased my appreciation of his acting skill.

There are a couple of interludes between phone calls in which Locke venomously reproaches his late father, seething at the dead man whose shortcomings were apparently many. While doing so, Locke glances in the car's rear-view mirror; it's almost as if he thinks his father is a passenger in the back seat, but he's also looking at himself, desperate to convince himself that he has not inherited these character flaws, but also deathly afraid that he has. He's obviously a man who is used to being in control of his life, but as things quickly begin to go south, he starts to lose his grip on that control. Despite his weaknesses, we sympathize with Locke as he tries, without much success, to convince those he's let down that he just wants to do the right thing. His sense of responsibility compels him to be there for the birth of his child, but he's also driven to ensure that the concrete pour is a success despite the fact that he's physically abandoned the construction site. He partially blames the affair on both parties having had too much to drink, but it's really a halfhearted attempt at justification, and he mostly owns up to his failure. His bigger mistake is naïvely hoping that everyone involved will be able to just pick up and move on.

While Locke is clearly Hardy's film for the taking, it would be wrong to call it entirely a one-man show. Although we only ever hear their voices, the actors on the other end of the phone (many of them veterans of some of my favorite British television shows) constitute a rock-solid supporting ensemble. In particular, Andrew Scott (Sherlock's villainous Moriarty) as Donal, the rather high-strung man left in charge of the concrete pour in Locke's absence, brings some much-needed levity to the film. Locke obviously has faith in Donal's ability, but Donal himself is not so sure, and he downs a few ciders to calm his nerves, leading to some drolly funny exchanges. Ruth Wilson (the sexy psychopath Alice from the series Luther) is the voice of Locke's wife, Katrina, and her performance deftly underscores the crushing heartbreak which Locke's infidelity has caused. Their conversations are palpably painful. Olivia Colman (from the hysterically funny series Peep Show) provides the voice of Bethan, the mother of Locke's child, and her character is believably frail and uncertain. I'm familiar with the faces of all of these actors, but I have to admit, I didn't recognize any of them by their names or voices, and I was pleasantly surprised when I looked them all up. The other actors all do fine jobs as well, particularly the two young men (Tom Holland and Bill Milner) who voice Locke's sons; they provide the film with some of its emotional highlights.

Locke was written and directed by Steven Knight. It's only his second directorial effort outside of television, but he's also written a number of other fine films, including David Cronenberg's Russian mob classic Eastern Promises. While a film set almost entirely in a car might sound like it could get stale very quickly, Locke never does. In fact, it's mesmerizing. The film's relatively brief running time helps in that regard, but it's assisted even more so by Knight's dynamic direction. He keeps the camera in constant motion, showing Locke from a multitude of angles and giving us glimpses of what he sees as he drives along the motorway. Since Locke's journey takes place at night, it's a visually dark film, which only adds to the intimacy and claustrophobia. Some of the metaphors in the script might seem a bit heavy-handed; at one point, Locke talks about how the slightest crack in a foundation can bring the whole structure down. The connection to his own predicament is fairly obvious, but it does seem appropriate. I've seen a few blurbs that tout the film as some sort of thriller, but while it's nothing of the kind, it still keeps you on the edge of your seat throughout due to the high emotional stakes. While the ending is appropriately sober, it does provide Locke with a brief glimmer of possible redemption. It's a wonderful sophomore effort from director Knight, and it's yet another wildly impressive performance from Tom Hardy, who just keeps racking them up.

Tom Hardy, Britain's most impressive actor

Like many film geeks, I don't usually get as excited about actors as I do about directors. It isn't often that I look forward to seeing a film just because of who's in it, and when considering my favorite films, I nearly always think of them in terms of who directed them - I like this film by Kubrick or that film by Peckinpah. I'm not really sure why that is, but I suppose it's because I believe a film should ultimately reflect its director's overall vision, and part of that vision encompasses whom the director chooses to cast. I don't at all mean to diminish the contributions that actors make to a film's success (or don't make, since a lousy performance can unquestionably sink an otherwise enjoyable film), and I realize that the general public doesn't feel the same way. In fact, they probably feel exactly the opposite, and in many cases a film's financial performance will depend in large part upon the bankability of its star(s). I guess I've always viewed actors as essentially another tool in the director's toolbox. Occasionally, though, a particular actor rises above all the others and catches my attention; someone who is so bloody good that they cause me to rethink my whole stance on the importance of directing vs. acting. British actor Tom Hardy is one of them. Recently seen in his highest profile role to date - the villainous Bane in the finale to Christopher Nolan's Batman trilogy, The Dark Knight Rises - Hardy has impressed me enormously with his immersive approach to performing.

My first exposure to Hardy was his role in 2002's Star Trek: Nemesis, in which he portrays Praetor Shinzon, a Reman rebel who turns out to be a clone of Captain Jean-Luc Picard (if you don't understand all that, it's OK). It was one of his first prominent roles, and he disappeared into the persona of the bald, sinister alien leader (an acting style which would serve him well in the future). While I admired his performance, and I thought he held his own in his scenes with Patrick Stewart, I took no especial notice of him at the time. Between 2002 and 2010, I saw two more films in which he appeared - Ridley Scott's 2001 war film Black Hawk Down and the 2004 Daniel Craig crime drama Layer Cake - but to be honest, I don't remember seeing him in either of them. I presume his roles were small, and in the case of Black Hawk Down, it was rather difficult to keep all the actors straight amidst the constant chaos of the battle scenes.

Then, in 2010, I saw Christopher Nolan's mind-bending blockbuster, Inception, and all of a sudden, there he was. Although part of a strong ensemble, Hardy nevertheless stands out as the character known as Eames, who uses his impersonation skills to manipulate people inside their own dreams. In what was an otherwise very serious film, Hardy was given the lion's share of the film's humor, including the crowd-pleasing line, "You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling," dryly delivered as he pushes an assault rifle-wielding Joseph Gordon-Levitt aside and takes out a dream-generated "bad guy" with a grenade launcher. (By the way, it was Hardy's idea to add the "darling" at the end of that line, which makes it that much more sublime.) Hardy gives a delightfully assured performance as the prickly, playful and roguish Eames, and this was the first time I really thought to myself, "Who is this guy?"

My ultimate acknowledgement of Hardy's prodigious talent came earlier this year. I had become a fan of Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn (the Pusher trilogy, Valhalla Rising, Drive), and I was working my way through some of his films that I hadn't seen. In the process of doing so, I watched Refn's 2008 film Bronson, starring - you guessed it - Tom Hardy. The film tells the fact-based story of Charlie Bronson (born Michael Peterson), known as "the most violent prisoner in Britain." The real-life Bronson, who adopted the name of the tough-guy actor, has spent the majority of his life incarcerated, and is notorious for repeatedly assaulting prison guards, taking hostages and damaging property. Hardy essays the title role, and his acting is nothing short of astounding; I would go so far as to call it one of the best performances I've ever seen. He dominates the film, completely inhabiting the role in a way I've seldom experienced. To be completely honest, I didn't fully grasp that it was the same actor I had seen in Inception until well after the film was over - he was that unrecognizable.

Refn's film ingeniously presents its main character in a multitude of ways: Hardy as Bronson narrates the film via voiceover; he breaks the fourth wall and directly addresses us, the audience; he performs a one-man stage show in whiteface makeup before an audience that we suspect isn't really there; and, of course, he interacts with the film's other characters, whether that consists of politely serving tea to a prison guard or engaging in a brutal brawl with five of them while dressed in, well, nothing. Hardy masterfully navigates throughout these wildly divergent styles without missing a beat. He becomes Charlie Bronson, and according to a filmed interview with one of Bronson's close family friends, he absolutely nails it. Refn's film has been compared to Stanley Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange, in that it presents us with a frankly sociopathic protagonist who is seemingly incapable of being rehabilitated but nevertheless worms his way into the audience's psyche and firmly lodges himself there. It's to Hardy's credit that this often morally reprehensible character still manages to come off as charming and even likeable without downplaying his brutishness one iota. Although he won the British Independent Film Award for best actor for Bronson, Hardy's performance in this film remains undeservedly obscure to just about everyone but film buffs; this is easily Oscar-caliber material, and it should be seen by anyone who appreciates great acting.

Hardy doesn't just occupy his roles in a thespian sense. Like Christian Bale (his co-star in The Dark Knight Rises), he's not disinclined to drastically alter his physique to suit a role, but while Bale endured a dramatic weight loss for his role in The Machinist, Hardy often does exactly the opposite, bulking up to various degrees for films such as Bronson, The Dark Knight Rises and the 2011 drama Warrior, in which he portrays a troubled mixed martial arts fighter. Watching Hardy in something like Guy Ritchie's comedic caper film RocknRolla, it's difficult to comprehend that the svelte actor who plays the genial Handsome Bob in that film is the same one who plays the hulking, psychopathic villain Bane in TDKR. Bane was intended to be a formidable adversary; one who could not only outsmart Batman but also best him in a physical confrontation, and it's not at all difficult to believe that Hardy's Bane is fully capable of taking down The Dark Knight.

Spending essentially the entire film (save for one brief flashback) behind a mask that covers his nose and mouth, Hardy overcomes this obstacle to deliver another fantastic performance relying on his voice, his eyes and his body language. Unfairly comparing Hardy's Bane to the late Heath Ledger's widely-renowned portrayal of The Joker in The Dark Knight, some critics and moviegoers were seemingly disappointed with the character, complaining that he lacked the Joker's charisma and humor and finding him difficult to understand due to the mask (his lines were redubbed after some initial screenings), but these complaints hold no water with me. The two characters are vastly different, as they should be, and Christopher Nolan knew exactly what he was doing when he cast Hardy, who once again vanishes into the character and earnestly portrays the larger-than-life Bane without once devolving into absurdity, which was a very real concern with this role. Bane is scary and intimidating because Hardy makes him that way.

I'm not the only one to have taken notice of Tom Hardy; his star has definitely been on the rise over the past several years, and if all goes well, he's poised to become a household name in the very near future. The Hollywood Reporter recently referred to him as a "New A-Lister" and one of "today's hottest stars." It certainly doesn't hurt that he's become a go-to-guy for Christopher Nolan, one of the most sought-after directors working today; his prominent roles in Nolan's Inception and TDKR, both of which have grossed hundreds of millions of dollars (TDKR is on track to break the billion dollar mark any day now), ensured that he was seen by legions of audiences worldwide, and if the two of them should happen to work together again, it will undoubtedly be yet another blockbuster. His Depression-era gangster epic Lawless opens this weekend, and his upcoming turn as the iconic character Max Rockatansky (the role that made Mel Gibson a star) in George Miller's reboot Mad Max: Fury Road will only raise his profile even higher. His success is well-earned and well-deserved, as he's got the talent to back it up, in spades. While the list of my favorite actors might be somewhat short, it should be pretty obvious who's at the top of it.