Perhaps somewhere down deep within There Are No Saints lies an intelligent or even compassionate study of seeking either justice or revenge for a terrible crime. One might even expect such a treatment of this material from Paul Schrader, whose past films – both as writer/director and, as in this case, a screenwriter only – tended to find a whole lot of depth in stories set within the blackest recesses of human nature. To wit, the protagonist of Schrader’s latest screenplay is said to be a ruthless killer, with no compunction for brutally torturing and/or murdering those who get in his way and very little reason to exercise mercy while doing so.
Neto (José María Yazpik) is released from prison as this story starts, met by his attorney (Tim Roth), whose reminder to his client that his release is unequivocal and not being monitored by any parole officer certainly comes across as ominous. Neto, by the way, has a goal in mind: to find those who framed him for the murders he is alleged to have committed, which we see in flashes in the prologue. Whether or not he actually murdered a woman and her son is a question that remains open most of the way through this story. It really comes down to whether one believes that Neto could ever find or deserve a redemption arc. That confidence might be misplaced.
Neto is, decidedly and uncompromisingly, not a good man, as his journey to find revenge proves over and over. He hunts down prospective sources of information, killing anyone and everyone present in order to send a message, before killing those informers for good measure. He engages in sexual activity with Nadia (Paz Vega), a woman from his past who is now dating dead-eyed crime boss Vincent (Neal McDonough), only to inspire the menacing real-estate mogul’s next actions, which are to kill Nadia and abduct Julio (Keidrich Sellati), her son with Neto. If one is under the impression that Schrader and director Alfredo Pineda Ulloa are mostly interested in seeing just how bleak they can make this entire affair, one must pay only the slightest attention to where the story goes from here.
The name of the game here is the eventual objectification of every woman present. Neto employs a club bartender named Inez (Shannyn Sossamon) to accompany her for reasons that must have been left on the cutting room floor or in an earlier draft of the screenplay. The two become emotionally invested in each other’s lives, then inevitably romantically involved, which makes even less sense. Thankfully, Sossamon retains her dignity here in a performance that’s fine enough to paper over the rough patches in character development.
It all leads to a violent standoff between Neto and Sans (Ron Perlman), a violent psychopath who knows all too well the details of Neto’s past that Schrader and Pineda Ulloa have been arbitrarily hiding from us the whole time. The proposed shocks and shockingly violent content that act as the payoff here are simply that – shocking without being genuinely provocative and violent without bothering to provide any insight into what it all means. There Are No Saints is an accurate title in its description of this world and these characters, but it’s all just empty, hopeless and dull.
Photo courtesy of Saban Films
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