Boy Kills World (2023) Skarsgård Kills Role (Review)

Is there a family dynasty dominating the film industry harder than the Skarsgård clan? Between dad Stellan and children Alexander, Bill, Eija, Gustaf, Kolbjörn, Ossian, Sam and Valter, the towering Swedes have planted their flag in everything from Mamma Mia! to Barbarian (cinematically), and from Vikings to Succession (televisually). One could make an argument for the Australian Hemsworths being able to take them in a scrap, but strength lies in numbers in this game; it’s a Skarsgård world and we’re just living in it. Sitting as the most physically distinctive is Bill, a slender streak of pure gangly presence with huge versatile eyes and a devilish smile that both melt and freeze your heart. He was instantly touted as a horror icon for his indelible work as Pennywise the Clown in It, and is no doubt going to be a perfect fit for Count Orlok’s massive shoes in Robert Eggers’ upcoming Nosferatu. But one thing that has evaded him so far is an opportunity to literally flex his muscles on-camera, which is certainly an outlet Alexander and Gustaf have indulged in to great effect with The Northman and Vikings respectively. Maybe John Wick: Chapter 4 was a good buy-in for Bill; taking lead villain duties as loathsome rich-boy Marquis de Gramont allowed him to feature heavily in an action picture, despite being decidedly separate from the gunplay (an ironic act of cowardice on the character’s part). Now comes Boy Kills World, the debut feature of Moritz Mohr who mounts a series of bloody set-pieces on top of a stock revenge plot to give lil Bill a chance to join his older brothers in the action big leagues.

We meet Skarsgård’s Boy as a, well, boy (The Boys Homelander Jr. Cameron Crovetti, sharing the role with twin brother Nicholas), buried in mud three feet deep in the middle of a rainstorm. Relying on a snorkel to breathe, he’s under the brutal tutelage of Shaman (The Raid franchise’s Yayan Ruhian) and determinedly preparing to wreak revenge on the villainous Van Der Koy family (led by Famke Janssen) after their totalitarian regime was responsible for the deaths of his mother and sister (Rolanda Marais and Quinn Copeland). It’s not long before Boy becomes man, shooting up to all 6 foot 3 inches of prime cut Skarsgård and venturing out into the big bad world to, yes indeed, kill it.

If that all sounds terribly familiar, trust your instincts, because it is. Mohr’s film borrows plenty from tales of vengeance the world over, and (more specifically) action films that have deaf protagonists using their disability as a superpower. Like Bangkok Dangerous to Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance before it, the forward thrust of Boy’s journey isn’t hampered by his affliction, and the film often attempts a fresh perspective on internal monologues. A fresh cut of the film after its festival run jettisoned Skarsgård’s own voice and recruited the vocal talents of Bob’s Burgers’ H. Jon Benjamin to give Boy a booming video game announcer tone, halfway between the Mortal Kombat commentator and Honest Trailers’ Epic Voice Guy, and the result firmly lands this in a Deadpool­-lite territory of semi-self-awareness. Benjamin’s Boy voice is a decent tuning fork for the material, forming a core concept for the candy-coloured chaos to spin around to entertaining effect. However, this post-production switcheroo has left Skarsgård a little disconnected from his own performance, and while his status as an imposing, fearsome warrior is beyond doubt (he’s often so colossal that the assault weapons he wields look like toy guns), the physical comedy and emotional beats alike feel engineered differently to what Benjamin is doing in the recording studio.

There is a similar incoherence to the supporting cast. It’s admittedly great to see Sharlto Copley chewing scenery so soon after his sleazy wrestling MC turn in Monkey Man, but his cartoonish coif and gleaming white teeth are wasted in favour of an irritatingly obnoxious villain role for Bret Gelman, who in turn doesn’t feel like he’s tapping into the same evil energy as a yuppified Michelle Dockery. For a film with so many boo-hiss villains stepping in from the sidelines, keeping their performances this loose and free-form makes Boy Kills World’s manic whirlwind from gaining the crazed momentum it wants to achieve. A nice surprise of a performance lies in Jessica Roth’s masked assassin June 27, who is great when given the chance to shine, but too often locked away underneath a motorbike helmet that literally does the talking for her.

Thank goodness, then, for Yayan Ruhian, one of the lynch pins of Indonesian action cinema. A fierce and compact presence, there’s no one currently working who embodies the same vicious energy as him, and Mohr wisely knows that he’s the film’s secret weapon. Tiny roles in The Force Awakens and John Wick: Chapter 3 raised a smile simply at his appearance, but failed to make a full impression due to limited screentime. Ruhian gets multiple windows of opportunity to kick through here. The early training montages are kinetic and snappy thanks to his fearless commitment to flailing limbs, and the climactic fight is a welcome shot in the arm that sees Ruhian and Skarsgård demonstrate some of their best work. Mohr as a visionary maybe relies a little too heavily on the use of drones to whip around the action (no doubt a touch from Matthew Vaughn action director Dawid Szatarski), increasing the sweep of his scope while losing the impact of the punches. Yet the little and large combination of Ruhian and Skarsgård is a great one, and their hard-won physical efforts to make the constant violence land are hugely appreciated.

Ultimately, it’s the World of the title that lets the Boy down. Mohr is so keen to combine elements of reality TV satire (think Hunger Games flamboyance with Running Man savagery), impossible-odds vengeance and (finally and unadvisedly) moral pathos that each gear change works less well than the last. A third act script-flip renders the enjoyably juvenile revenge quest mostly moot, trying to reckon with its consequences on both sides and thus making Boy’s spiritual and emotional journey rote and confused. Boy Kills World eats its cake immediately, giving an exhausting, sometimes fun sugar rush for 90 minutes before trying to have it again by sicking up every morsel. The lasting feeling is that of a bad decision, a path taken where the destination wasn’t where anyone wanted to go, and the journey back to square one steeped in awkward silence and resentment. There’s a crushing feeling to Mohr choosing to give a moral backbone to heroes and villains who have been doing just fine flopping around without one, and it feels like a needless apology for being daft when being daft was simply what was called for.

In a market where the mid-budget film seems to be on the up once again, it would be nice if something as scrappy as Boy Kills World did well or, at the very least, found a cult audience. The tone safely falls into the same category as any R-rated box office smash, somehow reverse-echoing the guaranteed success of Deadpool & Wolverine this summer. UK distributor Signature have pushed this for a cinema release while many of their releases have been pillars of the DTV market, and there’s an unpretentiousness from any film like this in theatres that needs to be rewarded. By the time Boy has finally put World to sleep, Bill Skarsgård’s long-deserved action breakout rests as a cobbled-together series of bloodied body parts…but some of them (mostly its lead’s) are toned, muscular and a sight to behold.

Simon’s Archive – Boy Kills World