The Wrong Man (Alfred Hitchcock, 1956)

This film is based on a real-life incident in the New York City, and Hitchcock's first flight to believably portray a real-life event on the silver screen. A musician when back from his work on a fateful night is accosted by men who dragged him to a number of different  places. In each place they asked, "Is this the man? Is this the man?"He was then arrested for several robberies. Although he was completely innocent, he had to go through a trial, and by its end his wife had lost her mind. During the legal proceedings, a small infringement of the ritual caused a mistrial. As the preparations for a new trial were being made, the real culprit was arrested and he confessed. The film was shown from the point of view of the innocent man. Hitchcock has never been more himself than in this film, which nevertheless runs the risk of disappointing lovers of suspense and of English humor. There is very little suspense in it and there is no humor. The Wrong Man is Hitchcock's most stripped-down film. It is the roast without the gravy. The film is shot inexpensively in the street, subway, the places where the action really occurred. It;s because he knew that he was making a difficult and relatively less commercial film than he usually does. His concern was visible when he warned us before the title of the film was showed that what he was offering this time was something different, a drama based on fact. Henry Fonda is impressive, expressionless, almost immobile. Fonda is only a look. Never was Fonda so fine, so grand, and noble as in this film where he has only to present his honest man's face, just barely lit with a sad, an almost transparent, expression. Hitchcock almost made it impossible for the spectator to identify with the drama's hero; we are limited to the role of witnesses. We are at Fonda's side throughout, in his cell, in his home, in the car, on the street, but we are never in his place. That is an innovation in Hitchcock's work, since the suspense of his other films was based precisely on identification. The film's climax is based on a coincidence that makes scrupulous screenwriters scream. That is, when Fonda cannot prove his innocence, his mother tells him: "You should pray." So Fonda kneels down before a statue of Jesus Christ and prays. There is a close-up of Christ, a dissolve, and then a shot in the street that shows a man who resembles Fonda walking toward the camera until the frame catches him in a close-up with his face and Fonda's superimposed. This is certainly the most beautiful shot in the film and it summarizes all of it. It is the transfer of culpability, the theme of the double, a theme present if many of Hitchcock's films. Hitchcock offers a film about the role of an accused man, and the fragility of human testimony and justice. It has nothing in common with the actual incident of the New York City except its pessimism, appearance, and skepticism. In any case, it is one of Hitchcock's best films, the one that goes farthest in the direction he chose long ago.

We Need To Talk About Kevin (Lynne Ramsay, 2011)

The film centers on a woman (Eva played by Tilda Swinton) whose psychopathic son has pushed her to the edge of sanity. We Need to Talk About Kevin delves into Eva's mind by periodically moving between past and present. Eva lives with her husband, son and daughter in an expensive home in an idyllic small town. However, from the interiors of the house we could gather that the house has never become a home for its inhabitants. These people share a common physical structure, but their psychological structures are innately different from each other. Eva is skeptical of the marriage, doesn't want a child, and lacks instinctive kindness towards children. Her husband Farnklin (John C. Reilly) is an aloof man who appears situationally supportive of his wife, son, and daughter, cheerful,but lacks serious familial attachment and commanding position required of him as one of the parents. He is completely clueless about the alarming dynamics between his wife and son. Only the daughter, Celia, who is really young seems to be normal, but her normalcy is constantly shattered by Kevin, the son. Kevin is instinctively fiendish, who is supremely talented as to how to wound Eva, snub her, deceive her and make her soul bleed. Kevin seems to be living embodiment of the Devil. Kevin's character is depicted at three ages. As a baby, Kevin can try the patience of a saint. A relatively younger Kevin is such a little devil who enrages Eva so much that she breaks his arm. In the movie, this particular incident is seen more like a vicious triumph of Kevin than an instance of child abuse. As a teenager, Kevin is loving towards his father, but deliberately designs ploys to hurt Eva. The film starts with Eva dreaming about a lake of blood that ultimately turns into an annual tomato festival. Throughout the film the director uses the color Red as a route to emancipation for Eva while at the same time the same color is used to capture the disturbing psyche of Eva. Though the film is titled as We Need To Talk About Kevin, they never talk about Kevin. As if, by averting any dialogues and discussion about Kevin, the film emphasizes the need for such talks and on another level forces us to consider an important question that might plague the minds of the parents of troubled children: Is it nature or nurture? We Need to Talk About Kevin is a powerful film about a disturbed child and the magnitude of psychological trauma created in the minds of parents by a series of devilish acts by the child. The parents helplessly take the back seat like an audience and are ultimately nudged in the direction of psychosis. 

The film was nominated for the Palme d’Or at the 2011 Cannes Film festival.