"Locke" Review

I think we've all experienced this moment before: we're in a car, minding our own business, when we look outside and see someone in the car next to us, enraptured by the new Katy Perry song. As the veins in their neck bulge proportionately to the amount of air belted out of their lungs, we think "If only their singing talent matched their enthusiasm," but cheer them on, swayed by their passion.

I find an irony in people's behavior inside cars. Despite the fact a person is in the midst of at least a hundred others at a time, the rolled-up windows create, in our minds, a cocoon. Inside this Volkswagen, I am safe. Inside this Chevy, I can pick my nose. I can sing badly at the top of my lungs. I can be overwhelmed by the world, and I am allowed to cry. There's security and intimacy in our cars, at least until the jerk in front cuts us off.

"Locke" encapsulates this sense of intimacy; for 90 minutes, we are the fly on the window, the only being privy to the knowledge of Ivan Locke's (Tom Hardy) worst night. Of course, it starts out ordinarily; Ivan Locke is an ordinary English man: he works in construction, has a wife and two kids. He's supposed to go home, enjoy a game of soccer with a sausage dinner and his favorite German beer, and wake up early the next day to supervise the largest shipment of concrete ever (outside of military ventures). However, with one right turn, expectations are broken. What ensues is a series of phone calls which tells a story of mistakes, consequences, and the desperate necessity to always do the right thing.

I read a review in New Republic in which David Thomson used about a third to talk about the Welsh voice, referring to its emotional range.To sum it up, a Welshman can soothe any pain and promptly juxtapose with snarling fury. At the time, I was befuddled but as the film plays, Hardy's accent becomes its own character: its gentle coo calms, its hiss spits venom. Despite the gamut of reactions, the single consistency remains Locke's vulnerability, echoing through the car with every word.

As "Locke" ends, the camera overlooks the highway, showing the multitude of cars. I am reminded of the paradox, and I recognize the very real truth that a hundred stories are taking place simultaneously. Many mistakes are being made, some of them are being fixed up. Some people are just on their way home to catch the soccer match. Steven Knight's script manages to present the universal in a small scope. Through one man, a car, and a series of phone calls, we see our errors, our attempts to fix them, our hopes something good can come out of the next day. For ninety minutes, we can be intimate and vulnerable. At least, until the guy in front cuts us off.

If I had not a shift at work after my showing, I would've bought another ticket and seen this film again. Through an intelligent script and a fantastic performance by Hardy and supporting cast, Steven Knight directs a fantastic film. I implore you all, go see "Locke". Thank you for reading, I'm the Man Without A Plan, signing off.

"Locke" trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdaofZfgV_Q