Movie Reviews - 'Killer Joe' And 'Ruby Sparks' - Two Films Shoot Past Realism To Weirder Territory Ruby Sparks and Killer Joe tell of an author who conjures a woman from his typewriter and a corrupt detective hired to kill an aging mother, respectively. But Fresh Air's David Edelstein says the films share a common trait: Both take their stories beyond common reality to more fascinating parts of the psyche.
NPR logo Two Films Shoot Past Realism To Weirder Territory



Audio is no longer available


Amid the slapstick comedies, sequels and comic book superhero movies which have come to define summer movie-going, two films open today centering on disturbing romantic ties. Zoe Kazan wrote and stars with Paul Dano in the film "Ruby Sparks," and Matthew McConaughey plays the title role in "Killer Joe," the latest film adaptation of the work of playwright Tracey Letts. Critic David Edelstein checked in on both.

DAVID EDELSTEIN, BYLINE: "Ruby Sparks" and "Killer Joe" aren't fantasy or horror pictures, but they're within screaming distance, close enough to remind you how much deeper artists go when they barrel past realism into weirder areas of the psyche.

"Ruby Sparks" is a parable about men and what they project on women. It's written by actress Zoe Kazan, for her and her boyfriend, Paul Dano. Dano plays Calvin, a novelist who had a generation-defining, "Catcher in the Rye"-type hit at 19, and has barely produced anything in the decade since. Despite his fame, he's unable to meet that special girl.

He dreams of her, though. She comes out of the sunlight in a short, swishy dress. And when he types his dream on his old typewriter, something strange happens. His dog shows up, carrying a woman's shoe. Toiletries appear in his bathroom. Finally comes the woman, whom he names Ruby Sparks.

Kazan's Ruby is lithe and baby-faced, with round, adoring blue eyes. She's - in an adjective applied to another Zooey, Deschanel - adorkable. She's what Cal wants, to a fault. But when she begins to want something - her own life and friends and career - and he thinks she's going to leave him, he types: Ruby is miserable without Cal, and lo, she's back.

"Ruby Sparks" builds to become a tour-de-force psychodrama worthy of "The Bride of Frankenstein," which I won't spoil. But I will say Cal is decent enough to be ashamed of his godlike control over Ruby. The problem is he can't let go, can't control the monster in himself, while Ruby conveys the escalating horror of a woman who, in realistic movies, might say: I don't know who I am, only what you want me to be.

It's a great metaphor - so strong, the movie comes close to being too tidy, not as full and overflowing as the best fantasies. Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris' direction is a shade naturalistic, although Annette Bening does perk things up as Cal's mom, who lives in a richly rustic house in Big Sur, having altered her personality to reflect her new mate, played hilariously by Antonio Banderas.

The film might have been more fun if Cal were expansive instead of a worry-wart in the Matthew Broderick mode. Good as Dano is, I never saw him as a guy who could write his generation's "Catcher in the Rye." He's tentative, bloodless.

Which is not a charge you could level at anyone in "Killer Joe," from an early play by Tracey Letts, who wrote "Bug" and "August: Osage County." "Killer Joe" is grandly gory. Letts works in the Chicago Steppenwolf Theatre tradition of characters who get in one another's faces from the get-go and then get more invasive. It's a family drama.

Emile Hirsch plays Chris, a high-strung young man in debt to gangsters, who hears his estranged mom - by all accounts a hateful woman - has a fat insurance policy naming his childlike, 20-year-old sister Dottie the sole beneficiary. He and Thomas Haden Church as his groggy, loser dad decide to hire themselves a killer: a corrupt Dallas police detective played by Matthew McConaughey in a black cowboy hat.

Joe shows up at their house - one step up from a trailer - but finds only Dottie, played by Juno Temple.


JUNO TEMPLE: (as Dottie Smith) What? What are you? I mean, what do you do?

MATTHEW MCCONAUGHEY: (as Killer Joe Cooper) I'm a detective.

TEMPLE: (as Dottie Smith) Really?

MCCONAUGHEY: (as Killer Joe Cooper) Mm-hmm.

TEMPLE: (as Dottie Smith) Like Magnum P.I.?

MCCONAUGHEY: (as Killer Joe Cooper) No. He's a private detective. I'm in the Dallas Police Department.

TEMPLE: (as Dottie Smith) He ain't real, either.

MCCONAUGHEY: (as Killer Joe Cooper) No. I'm real.

TEMPLE: (as Dottie Smith) I read it's nothing like them shows with car chases and all.

MCCONAUGHEY: (as Killer Joe Cooper) A lot of paperwork.

TEMPLE: (as Dottie Smith) I read some policemen go their whole lives without shooting their guns.

MCCONAUGHEY: (as Killer Joe Cooper) Probably true.

TEMPLE: (as Dottie Smith) You ever drawn your gun?

MCCONAUGHEY: (as Killer Joe Cooper) Oh, sure.

TEMPLE: (as Dottie Smith) You ever shot anybody?

MCCONAUGHEY: (as Killer Joe Cooper) Yes.

EDELSTEIN: That's some savory dialogue, every line quivering suggestively. And have you noticed how bizarre McConaughey's features are, with his long nose and that face that's all flat planes? Joe's deliberateness is barely a cover for how crazy he is. When Chris can't come up with cash for the killing, Joe takes the virgin Dottie as his, quote, "retainer" and effectively moves in - a son-in-law who becomes a brutal dictator.

William Friedkin, who made "Bug," is a sensational director of filmed plays. The movie is opened up with no loss of theatrical intensity. And the cast, which includes Gina Gershon as a taunting slattern, is in clover - slimy, rotting clover. Beware: The climax of "Killer Joe" is hideously violent. But I wouldn't want these people to be any less monstrous. This isn't realism. It's grand opera - Grand Guignol opera.

DAVIES: David Edelstein is film critic for New York Magazine.

Copyright © 2012 NPR. All rights reserved. Visit our website terms of use and permissions pages at for further information.

NPR transcripts are created on a rush deadline by Verb8tm, Inc., an NPR contractor, and produced using a proprietary transcription process developed with NPR. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Accuracy and availability may vary. The authoritative record of NPR’s programming is the audio record.