I remember wanting to see Violet & Daisy when it premiered at the 2011 Toronto Film Festival, but it was scheduled on the last day, in a tiny theater, after I and most reviewing press had already left town. The screening was met with virtual silence. Considering it’s a teenage assassin feature starring Alexis Bledel and Saoirse Ronan as the titular characters and serves as the directorial debut of Geoffrey Fletcher, the Oscar-winning screenwriter of Precious, I would have thought it would have garnered some more attention. I, at the very least, remained intrigued if not disappointed by the fact they seemed to be trying to hide it from the critics so early in the game.
After finally seeing it two years later, I can understand why there may have been some trepidation in premiering it in front of a wide swath of reviewing press, who would likely dismiss it based on its strange tonal and narrative approach. Fletcher has taken this story of Violet (Bledel) and Daisy (Ronan) and delivers something of an off-kilter, whimsical, blood-filled bedtime story. His decision to break it up into chapters is a little odd and unnecessary, but, then again, the film itself is a little odd and somewhat surreal.
After an opening scene in which the duo, dressed as nuns, lay waste to a room filled with their latest targets, some needing about four clips emptied into their chest before finally falling to the bloody ground, we follow Violet and Daisy home to learn of their obsession with pop star Barbie Sunday (Cody Horn). Flipping through a magazine they notice Barbie has a brand new signature line of dresses and having “wasted” all of the money from their latest hit on rent they decide another job is in order.
Organized by their boss Russ (Danny Trejo), this next job will apparently be “quick and easy”, which we all know isn’t how these things work, but they accept. The duo’s casual approach to their “profession” results in them getting a little too close to this next target (James Gandolfini) and what follows becomes a journey of exploration into themselves and their friendship as the man before them appears to want to die, but what Daisy specifically can’t seem to get out of her head is “Why?”
Ronan plays the youngest of the duo, just turned 18 and can now be tried as an adult, but they both talk in an affected and almost forced manner of teenage lingo that sounds fake. It’s not so strange as to be a square peg in a round hole, but the fit isn’t entirely natural, despite the fact the film is never pushing hard for realism.
These two blast away at their targets and rely on the fact no one would expect a couple teenage girls would be the one killing people around New York City. Their getaway… a simple manner of skipping away from the crime scene and pretend sword fighting on their way.
They also seem to lack the maturity to even understand the consequences of their actions. After taking down a group of four men, the two proceed to do the “internal bleeding dance”, which involves jumping up and down on the corpses, blood spurting into the air and them ultimately arguing over who gets to bounce on the fat one. “They’re all fat biatch!” Violet playfully screams.
Ronan and Bledel’s characters are just two lost little girls. We never learn how long they’ve been killing people, but they’ve clearly put up walls, Violet more than Daisy, and have been hurt and/or abandoned in the past. The film’s overall mix of bloodshed and whimsy doesn’t entirely work, but even in its failings it’s more interesting than a lot of what we see in theaters today.
I can’t say I’d like to see Fletcher travel down this path again, but perhaps settle on one tonal approach and perfect that before attempting to deliver a Wes Anderson feature steeped in Quentin Tarantino bloodshed and faux dialogue. He doesn’t bring enough of either approach for the film to work as a whole, but as a curiosity it’s a film worth the watch if you have 88 minutes to spare.
