Monday, Great Action, 11:05pm
Nicolas Winding Refn’s Only God Forgives (2013) is less a film and more a hypnotic descent into violence, vengeance, and the darkest corners of Bangkok’s underworld. Ryan Gosling stars as Julian, a brooding drug smuggler ordered by his terrifying mother (Kristin Scott Thomas, channeling Lady Macbeth via a Miami crime lord) to avenge his brother’s death. The result? A slow, nightmarish fever dream drenched in red light and long, eerie silences. Dialogue is sparse, facial expressions are tighter than a drum, and when violence arrives, it’s brutal, unflinching, and operatic in its execution.
But let’s talk about the real star here: the soundtrack. Cliff Martinez, Refn’s go-to sonic architect (also behind Drive), crafts a score that is both hypnotic and oppressive. A blend of ominous synths, eerie choral pieces, and traditional Thai music, it envelops the film in a sense of doom and inevitability. Tracks like Wanna Fight pulse with an uneasy energy, while Bride of Chang builds tension with a synth-driven funeral march. Martinez’s score doesn’t just accompany the film; it is the film—guiding the audience through its surreal, almost Lynchian nightmare.
Soundtrack collectors will be pleased (or disturbed, depending on their taste) to know that the vinyl release is as rich and moody as the film itself, featuring deep reds and haunting artwork. Despite the film’s polarizing reception (critics were either enthralled or exasperated), the music remains an undeniable masterpiece of atmosphere. If Drive was the cool, neon-lit night ride, Only God Forgives is the hallucination you have after crashing the car. Not for everyone, but for those who get it, it’s an experience that lingers long after the credits roll.