It may not be a film filled with gunslinging and shootouts, but The Dead Don’t Hurt wears the elegiac tone of its genre, the western, firmly on its sleeve.
The film opens with the death of Vivienne (Vicky Krieps) as she wheezes her final breath, imagining an armoured knight coming to save her through a verdant forest. In reality, she is expiring in the modest but beautiful home that she has built with her partner Holger (Viggo Mortensen), a single tear running down her cheek as they bid one another a final farewell. Meanwhile, in the local town, the ne’er-do-well son of a crooked local businessman shoots up the saloon and kills six people before nonchalantly into the sunset. From there the film looks backwards and forwards, following Holger – who it transpires in the sheriff in these parts – as he goes on without Vivienne, and filling in the tale of Vivienne’s own life.
The non-linear structure of The Dead Don’t Hurt mostly serves Mortensen well. It allows the film’s two approaches to its genre – one perhaps slightly more traditional, the other verging on revisionist – to intertwine with one another. Each is anchored by one of the two central characters, with Mortensen’s laconic cowboy surveying the corruption of the town and, perhaps, setting out in search of vengeance after Vivienne’s death. Her story is a far more comprehensive one, taking in her childhood in Canada, her life as a woman of independent means in San Francisco, her meet (very) cute with Holger and then the hardships of life out west.
The second of those parts is really the heart of The Dead Don’t Hurt. As much as it is a western, it is a relationship drama about two outsiders – Holger is a first-generation Danish immigrant, and Vivienne is second-generation French-Canadian – finding one another and seeking a way to survive. Holger is an archetypal cowboy: good with his hands, a man of few words, relatively uncouth and absolutely unbothered by that. Vivienne grew up being read stories of Joan of Arc by her mother and chooses to strike out with Holger to escape the dull buffoonery of the wealthy men she’s been involved with in the city.
The role of Vivienne seems tailor-made for Krieps who is afforded the space to explore both the character’s charm and her resilience. Much like other roles for which she has been commended in recent years (The Phantom Thread, Corsage) this is a character that comes alive in her non-conformity, in the miniature rebellions and desire to forge her own path. She’s also incredibly charismatic, her smile lighting up the screen even in moments of otherwise overwhelming emotion. She shares fantastic chemistry with Mortensen, chiding his untidiness and slowly but surely converting the spit of land he lives on into a picturesque home. The sequence in which he reveals he plans to enlist for the Civil War and she ultimately waves him off, is very effective in its delicacy and reserve.
It is initially somewhat disappointing that Mortensen’s narrative ends up hinging on a rape, particularly when the non-linear storytelling is, by that point, already putting in motion what feels rather like a mission of vengeance for Holger. However, the handling of both the incident and its aftermath make this a far more nuanced handling of the subject matter than other similar films manage. In particular, although the very facts of Vivienne’s life come to be products of the attack – from the very existence of her adored son to (presumably) the syphilis that kills her – they are not defined by it. Indeed, when Holger returns home and learns what has occurred, his immediate impulse to grab his gun is undercut. What happens to Vivienne is not a catalyst for Holger’s story, but a nadir in her own, and one that she climbs out of with an admirable fortitude of spirit.k
It’s a refreshing perspective to see in a context that would typically lend itself to something far more trite. Mortensen handles his characters well, knowing when to remove himself from the action to allow Krieps to take centre stage. While this low-key take on the western won’t be to all tastes, The Dead Don’t Hurt tells a poignant, and ultimately very real, tale of love and life on the frontier.
Director, screenplay, music: Viggo Mortensen
Cast: Vicky Krieps, Viggo Mortensen, Solly McLeod, Garret Dillahunt, Colin Morgan, Ray Mckinnon, W. Earl Brown, Atlas Green, Danny Houston
Producers: Regina Solórzano, Viggo Mortensen, Jeremy Thomas
Cinematography: Marcel Zyskind
Editing: Peder Pedersen
Sound: Morten Groth Brandt
Art direction: Carlos Benassini
Production companies: Tailpot Studio (Mexico), Percevel Pictures (Denmark), Recorded Picture Company (UK)
Venue: Karlovy Vary International Film Festival (Out of Competition)
In English, Spanish, French, Danish
129 minutes
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