Despite its title, Tyrannosaur has nothing to do with dinosaurs. Still, it has plenty of bite. The socio-realistic drama from British actor-turned-director Paddy Considine puts its characters and viewers through the wringer, spinning a difficult and gritty story of human violence with, alas, only glimmers of hope.
Peter Mullan stars as Joseph, an unemployed widower making his way through his everyday, bleak life. Joseph is not a happy man. In the opening sequence, we see him walk out of a house and beat his dog to death out of drunken anger. He’s lost his wife, family and now best friend. He’s lost everything—all hope.
Then he meets Hannah (played persuasively by Olivia Colman), a Christian volunteer worker who appears to be his salvation. She’s calm, pretty and sweet and even offers to pray for Joseph when he shows up in her shop—a poignant moment for both of them. She’s everything he needs.
Joseph and Hannah begin to form a powerful bond, but before Tyrannosaur can settle into a traditional story of redemption, Considine spins the whole narrative on its head.
For Hannah has her own demons. Despite being married, privileged and strong in her faith, she reveals her inability to have a baby and be a mother—something she desperately wants—and that her husband (played nastily by Eddie Marsan) beats her. These circumstances eventually lead her to retaliate, forcing Joseph to take his turn as savior in their savior/saved relationship.
With his sudden shift in focus to Hannah, Considine seems to suggest that social turmoil—here violence and abuse—are not lower class problems but instead universal ones. In doing so, he deconstructs the facade that happiness lies in wealth and security.
Considine then introduces this same idea on the more personal level of the human condition. Joseph and Hannah both suffer the effects of violence and take turns as victim, offender and savior, thus highlighting humankind’s susceptibility to evil—good or bad, rich or poor—and, thus, connectedness.
Confirming a dismal future, this ideology proves terribly cynical and almost nihilistic, a tone some viewers will find appealing. Nevertheless, in spite of all the hopelessness, hope does exist within Tyrannosaur. It’s found in the flawed Joseph and Hannah, who seek love and justice throughout their struggles and for whom we do care about.
All the redeeming credit, though, goes to Mullan and Colman for giving these characters life. Their performances feel totally true, overwhelming us with a sense of reality. A master of understatement, Mullan does the impossible, making Joseph an angry, violent drunkard who can still gain our affection. As Hannah, Colman presents an equally impressive portrayal of a soul caught and conflicted between faith and circumstances.
Considine, thankfully, knows just how to handle such talent—he lets the actors do the work. Taking a minimal visual approach, with the camera close and steady from beginning to end, he allows the cast to carry his film and drive it as the character study that it is.
Yet, for all the skill with which Considine leverages Mullan and Colman and the scarred-yet-hopeful characters they portray, it’s not enough to redeem the world in which they are placed. For many—this reviewer included—the unremitting bleakness of Tyrannosaur will outweigh, or at least dampen, any greater appreciation of the film’s craft and execution. And, truly, that bites.