Thinking of arthouse powerhouse A24, what comes to mind?
Deft, off-kilter indie dramas? Unusual coming-of-age tales? Prestige horror? Odds are,
when you think of A24 and their output, you probably don’t immediately go to
gritty Muay Thai prison dramas. Well, with the release of Jean-Stephane
Sauvaire’s A Prayer Before Dawn, that line of thinking
certainly has to change.
That said, don’t go into this expecting a martial arts
movie; it’s not that and there are no high-flying displays of technical
prowess. This isn’t Tony Jaa flipping, kneeing, and elbowing dudes in a pseudo-highlight
real. Sauvaire shoots the fights, of which there are plenty, in handheld
closeups, which accomplishes two key things. First, while he’s a fine actor and
proficient in on-screen fisticuffs, wider shots would expose star Joe Cole’s
technical limitations as a fighter, especially considering his opponents are
much more seasoned and experienced in that realm.
Second, it gives the action a raw, intimate feel. Being so
close, it’s pressing and disorienting. Like protagonist Billy Moore being
punched and kicked and pummeled, it gives the fights a personal, visceral
demeanor. This places the viewer right there, mimicking being in a real fight,
recreating the confusion, the panic, and the chaos that so often arises as
another person attempts to bludgeon you into unconsciousness and you attempt to
stop them.
Based on a memoir of the same name, A Prayer Before
Dawn follows Billy Moore (Joe Cole, Green Room), a
British ex-pat in Thailand. When he falls down a hole of drugs and addiction,
he winds up in a notorious prison and must fight both his personal demons and
to survive the vicious environment that tries to rip him apart.
We’ve seen this often: physically fighting as a larger
metaphor, as a tool for redemption. And there’s a good reason for that. But
though it offers a familiar narrative, that doesn’t lessen the weight or
impact. This is humanity stripped raw, torn down to the beams. Sweat and
desperation ooze from every pore of Cole’s body as he delivers a ferocious,
gut-punch of a performance. I can’t explain how thankful I am Cole wound up in
this role, not Charlie Hunnam, who was originally slated. This is all simmering
rage and fierce exteriors that belie inner anguish.
Adding an extra layer of grim realism, Sauvaire and company
filmed in actual Thai prisons and largely used actual inmates. Movies have
employed similar tactics before, often with mixed results, but here, they
achieve the desired effect. The walls close in, the air gets close, bodies pile
on top of one another, and when the cell door clicks shut, it creates a deep, primal
tension and it’s impossible to shake the feeling of being trapped with no
escape.
As dark and grim and brutal as A Prayer Before
Dawn can be—and hoo damn, does it get uncomfortably real—it’s never
wholly without hope. It could easily become pure depression porn, wallowing as
one thing after another crushes the protagonist into the floor. But even as
bleak as things get, there still exists sparks of joy and love, connection, a
chance at recovery, and glimpses of humanity. They may be buried, often so deep
they’re hard to see, but they exist, and that’s what elevates the film, pulling
it out of the muck and mire. [Grade: A-]
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