DAVID BIANCULLI, HOST:
This is FRESH AIR. The actor Tom Hardy plays the title character in the British film "Locke," in which a man's life unravels in the course of a solo drive from Birmingham to London. "Locke" was written and directed by Steven Knight, who also penned the scripts for "Eastern Promises" and "Dirty Pretty Things." Film critic David Edelstein has this review.
DAVID EDELSTEIN, BYLINE: "Locke" is a most unusual film. It might not seem so odd as a radio play or even a stage play. The protagonist, his situation, they're fairly conventional. But to do what "Locke" does as a movie, that takes daring. The film is set in one space at one time. The arc of action is continuous.
There is only one character onscreen and just the top third of him: a man in a car, southbound on a motorway toward London. His name is Ivan Locke, he's played by Tom Hardy, and he's upending his life in front of your eyes, or rather your ears. Locke has a hands-free phone, and he's making and taking calls from first moment to last.
The conversations are urgent because Locke has just left his home and job without warning. In the first 15 minutes, we learn that there's a woman in London who's about to give birth to a baby he fathered, and she's not his wife. He barely, truth to tell, knows her. We also learn something momentous will occur at his job very early in the morning, and he won't be there. It's one of Europe's all-time biggest pours.
It takes a while to adjust to the thick regional English accents, so I'll spell that: P-O-U-R-S, pours, as in concrete. There's an immense building going up, and Locke is in charge of the foundation. Tens of millions of dollars ride on that pour, and good old steady, solid, responsible Locke is the most reliably superb of pourers.
This is because of his reverence for the concrete. He speaks of it poetically, as something that lives and breathes, and of the buildings of it supports that will, quote, displace the sky. So as he drives, Locke has heated conversations with his outraged boss, a drunken underling who must now take charge of the pour, the policemen who must close the roads, and councilmen who must to approve those closings, not to mention his sons waiting for him to come home to watch a big soccer match, his wife, who suspects nothing, and the woman in the London hospital whose labor is increasingly dire.
The conversations with one of the sons are the most heartbreaking. You get an inkling of the emotion, even in his first call home.
(SOUNDBITE OF MOVIE, "LOCKE")
TOM HOLLAND: (As Eddie) Hello?
TOM HARDY: (As Ivan Locke) Eddie, it's your dad. Is your mother there?
HOLLAND: (As Eddie) No, she's not back from the shop yet. She's getting that German beer that you like for the match.
HARDY: (As Locke) OK, listen, I won't be back for that.
HOLLAND: (As Eddie) What?
HARDY: Something's come up. I can't get out of it.
HOLLAND: (As Eddie) I'm wearing the shirt. Mum's getting sausages. Oh yeah, and guess what? She's wearing the shirt as well. Dad, it's so embarrassing. Yeah, what did you say about coming home?
HARDY: (As Locke) I won't be back for the match. I'll have to listen to it on the radio.
HOLLAND: (As Eddie) Dad, you said you'd be back. It's rubbish on the radio. Mum's doing sausages and all.
HARDY: (As Locke) Is your brother there?
HOLLAND: (As Eddie) Yes, do you want a word?
HARDY: (As Locke) No, just tell - will you just tell your mother to call me when she gets back? Thank you. Thank you.
HOLLAND: (As Eddie) Yeah, sure.
HARDY: (As Locke) I love you.
HOLLAND: (As Eddie) What?
HARDY: (As Locke) That's OK. You know what? Just get her to call me when she gets back. Thank you.
HOLLAND: (As Eddie) Yeah, so all right. Bye, dad.
EDELSTEIN: Tom Hardy is one of those actors I'd be afraid to approach on the street. He's not big, but the fact that he played the psychotic strongman Bane in "The Dark Knight Rises" tells you he can look and act huge. He has what Richard Burton had, at least before Burton turned sodden from booze: a quicksilver temperament. A low boil is Hardy's natural state.
He's bearded here, which softens his thick lips, and the accent he adopts reminds me of Burton's. The effect is like a bully boy smoothing his edges to play a king. But nothing can soften Hardy's innate volatility.
Writer-director Steven Knight has, as I've said, done an ordinary thing in an extraordinary way. Ivan Locke, who has left his former life to reverse his destiny, who speaks with awe about displacing sky, who reminds us his world now consists of himself and his car, is a textbook existential hero. Why has he taken this dramatic step? Without revealing too much, I'll say it all goes back to his childhood.
He's asserting that he's not a slave to fate. Knight gives us something else onscreen in "Locke": a near-abstract lightscape. The headlights that pass blur into ovals. Towards the end, in a steady rain, they vaguely resemble angels, though perhaps I'm projecting. Reflections, double exposures, patches of melancholy blue and searing yellow, it all matches the hero's inner state.
But Tom Hardy is the movie's heart and soul. Once you've spent an hour and a half in a car with him, you'll never forget his face.
BIANCULLI: David Edelstein is film critic for New York magazine.
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