The Dead Don’t Hurt ★★★

Despite Viggo Mortensen directing, writing, and starring in The Dead Don’t Hurt, the film is all about Vicky Krieps. She portrays Vivienne Le Coudy, an immigrant who lived in Canada as a child before making her way west and into the United States. It is in San Francisco where she will meet Holger Olsen (Mortensen), a Danish immigrant, and it is on her deathbed with Holger by her side where the film begins. Mortensen, in approaching a well-trodden genre like the western, is not interested in being typical. Sure, an early scene shows a gunfight at a saloon while the film is building towards a classic cat-and-mouse chase through the terrain, but the film, for long stretches, sidelines these storylines in order to follow Vivienne. Told non-linearly, The Dead Don’t Hurt quickly moves from her death to the beginnings of her romance with Holger in San Francisco, their time together in the rural west, the Civil War’s encroachment on that love, her childhood in Canada, and then back again to the present where Holger and their son reckon with her death.

As with any film told non-linearly, The Dead Don’t Hurt can suffer from pacing issues and the feeling that it is stuttering along its own storyline. Its climax, though beautifully photographed and delivered with violent and powerful emotional resonance, does not have the same impact it could if the entire film were dedicated to singularly building towards its events. In going back and forth, this momentum is sacrificed to create a far more elegiac feeling, mourning the loss of Vivienne. It is she who will drive Holger into his vengeful climactic pursuit with the film showing why and how profound an impact she has on life all around her. One can see their rural cabin as a prime example. It is set pristinely at the base of some small mountain, which Holger chose for its isolated and quiet setting. Upon seeing it, Vivienne comments about the lack of trees and flowers, as well as the unseemly interior of the home. His once-solemn and generally quiet existence as an immigrant finding carpentry jobs when he could is forever altered by Vivienne, bringing him not only into local society but also fully transforming that home to the point that, by the end, the entire yard and exterior of the home are adorned by newly growing and blossoming flowers. The often isolated and violent way of life in the west is countered by the growing beauty and tranquility of this home, a warm heart away from a world marked by local corruption and seemingly constant wars. As the film cuts from these moments of colorful romance back to the cold present, one can see the gulf left in her wake with the weathered and heavily bearded Holger looking a shell of himself as he wanders about searching for the man responsible for her death.

In taking this alternative approach, The Dead Don’t Hurt affords itself the chance to highlight an undertold side of Civil War stories. Often in classic westerns, the men would already be at war or would leave the women behind and the story would go along with them. Here, it stays with Vivienne as Holger enlists, feeling it is his duty to his new home to fight for it and against slavery. Krieps plays the moments of learning of his decision beautifully, capturing the heartbreak of feeling abandoned, seeing war impact her life again – her father, too, left to fight the British – and knowing the cost of men and their wars with women like her and her mother left to pick up the pieces of daily life. The dangers posed by the men left behind and the constant “war” she faces to fend for herself highlights the corrosive nature of this era. Krieps shines in these moments, capturing the internal fire of Vivienne as well as her quiet grace and strength to keep going forward, no matter what happens to her. She stands as a steadfast figure, keeping a tough and stoic presence in the face of considerable trauma and threat posed by the dangerous men in town. Her determination to survive and fight in order to fulfill her duties to her new son, while continuing to provide for their lives during the war forces her into hiding her personal scars, allowing idle talk about town to besmirch her name, and to constantly put herself in danger. She is a woman existing on the boundaries of a male-dominated society with film’s heavy themes painting an often tragic and startling picture of this world.

While the film excels in developing Vivienne, it suffers elsewhere with most of its other characters simply one-note figures who never rise above existing to just serve the story. Solly McLeod plays a nasty Weston Jeffries who is a pretty run-of-the-mill spoiled manchild of the west, while Danny Huston chews some scenery as corrupt Mayor Rudolph Schiller, but is relegated to just being the corrupt mayor. This is a lively town, but never one that comes to life around the characters. Combined with the often too slow pace and undercut tension, it leaves The Dead Don’t Hurt feeling more hollow than first meets the eye.

“The dead don’t hurt,” says Holger to his son after the young boy was worried a dead bird they just shot would be in pain. Perhaps, this is true, but as The Dead Don’t Hurt shows, the living do hurt. In a world of constant wars and violence, the living cannot show much vulnerability in public with the film marked by Holger and Vivienne’s often calm and stoic demeanor around others. It is the moments alone for them where they can take off some of their facades and just be themselves, allowing their surroundings to blossom and demonstrate their personality. Whether it be flowers for Vivienne or building barns and gardens for Holger, their home brims with life and vitality. As the danger percolates outside and threatens it, the fatalistic nature of their love amidst carnage comes to the surface. It is a flawed film, but The Dead Don’t Hurt’s strong central romance, great performance from Krieps and Mortensen, and beautiful visuals pack a punch.