Lethal determination (Hunger (DVD))

Member Name: harlequin21

Product:	Hunger (DVD)
Date:	06/04/09 (150 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: Harsh and ugly; interactive through its innovative, unusual style; strong acting

Disadvantages: Not pretty; too slow and inane for some; questionable in the consistency of its impartiality

Cinema originated as an art, and since then, as it has developed, it has fused this with entertainment. At the same time, it can educate and instruct, but in many ways the purely "artistic" element has receded. Artist (not resurrected movie star) Steve McQueen remedies this in his feature debut, Hunger, shifting his stylistic emphasis into something altogether more sensual. But this sensuality doesn't find its influence in the Malicks and Lynchs, but in a unique and stark reality, one which is ugly and sordid. This sensual ugliness draws out a raw authenticity, one so ugly that it brings to the film an unsettling, dreamlike aura, one realised keenly by McQueen.

He realises this in a small but brutal snippet of the Northern Ireland conflict - that of the 1980 hunger strikes, undertaken by IRA prisoners in protest regarding the British government's refusal to grant them political status. Indeed, these men were treated as criminals (which perhaps they were), subjected to cruel treatment in Her Majesty's Prison Maze, near Belfast. Their protest was led by Bobby Sands (portrayed here by an exceptionally dedicated Michael Fassbender), who in the name of "politics" and "human rights" ended up starving himself to death. But despite its context, Hunger is focused not so much on the "where" but more on the "how", and to a lesser extent, the "why". Complex writing isn't McQueen's primary concern here - instead, the reality is evoked by an intense attention to visual detail, one so keen that the dried blood, and the dirt, and the sweat, and the shit are palpable in all their putridity. It's crafted with a sensitive hand, and brought to life in a thoroughly unconventional way.

The reason why it's unconventional is because it's real. Films are largely dominated by the nuances of script, but McQueen pushes this aside here. In Maze prison, where the protest is physical rather than verbal, dallying about the issue isn't always relevant. As such, the visuals are ambiguous, and the viewer is left to do a lot of the work for themselves. The visual details tell the story via the imagination, and when we see the prison warden (Stuart Graham) drawing fiercely on a cigarette, knuckles bloodied, demeanour troubled, no literal explanation is required. And even though the film dwells on these oft miniscule details, crawling at the pace of a slowly spreading puddle of piss, it's interactive viewing, the atmosphere immersive and all the more horrible for it.

But amidst the extreme close-ups, and the delicate use of sound that magnifies the smallest gesture, Hunger boasts some real acting clout. One conversation, caught in one single shot, between Sands and Liam Cunningham's mediating priest is the spine of the film. It's the only cohesive dialogue, but firmly establishes Sands as the anchor of the meandering story, and hovers over the moral sensitivity of the hunger strikes, defining in this distinct segment the "why". Paradoxically, this dialogue-driven piece is the most abstract moment in how it philosophises, but the added depth gives the hunger strikes meaning. It steps back and allows for a glimpse of the bigger picture without being expository. And that's why Hunger is powerful - the subtleties pulsing through the ugly, violent images say little about the political context, yet by the end there's a feeling of having learnt a lot about it on a primeval level. We've felt the aching pain and the monotony; drawn up most of the characterisation ourselves; dwelled on the moral ambiguities, and as such have come to an understanding of the shocking brutality of the situation.

However, in tapping into the largely unspoken psyche of Sands and his inmates, McQueen is unsure just to what extent his film is political. Although frank and impartial, there's a sense of animal anger pulsing through it (indicative of the IRA, most likely), and though we might grasp that the IRA were terrorists and similarly were brutal, the anger seems primarily focused on Margaret Thatcher and the British authorities. Clearly, given the conditions of the prison, parallels between Maze and Guantanamo Bay are evident - Fassbender's sickening loss of weight for the role is particularly provocative - such that one wonders how far this unintentionally sensationalises the IRA's struggle.

But perhaps more fundamentally, McQueen's painting - composed of a palette of shit and blood - is a meditation on human rights. It questions whether terrorists are criminals, considering that they commit murder. Should their human rights be relinquished in light of their transgressions? Is the state justified in sinking to their level? And, tellingly, does one breach one's own human rights in deliberately hungering? Is this suicide or indirect murder on the part of the state? These questions are left hanging - in fact they're scarcely expressed, and this is appropriate in that perhaps these questions just don't matter. When you're mopping the floor of urine, or having your naked body bludgeoned with batons, or slowly dying through starvation, politics and ideals scarcely matter. There's only the moment in which it happens, and in McQueen's ugly, unrelenting canvas politics is distant, and violence horrifyingly immediate. It's there, it's raw, and it's ugly.

Summary: A stark, innovative reflection on human rights