 A film in three minutes. A history of violence. What is violence to you? Is it something that should be avoided at all times? Can it ever be used for good? Or is it simply a natural state of being and inescapable byproduct of our evolutionary existence that defines us more than we could ever want to realize? Because in David Cronenberg's 2005 drama A History of Violence, An Ordinary All-American Family is about to find out what the consequences of one individual's violent past will mean for them all. Loosely based on a graphic novel penned by John Wagner, the story is set in the fictional town of Milbrook, Indiana, and follows the life of diner owner Tom Stor, played by Viggo Mortensen. Stor leads the perfect life of his family in the sleepy town until one night two spree killers attempt to rob and murder him and his patrons, with both men meeting a grisly end thanks to Tom's heroic efforts. Leading him to being portrayed as a local hero on the news, that catches the eye of a mysterious gangster named Fogarty, played by Ed Harris. Fogarty arrives in town and publicly challenges Tom's identity, claiming that he is actually a professional hitman named Joey from Philadelphia, causing Tom's family to question not only his identity but also what he is capable of. Diverting from his usual trademark themes revolving around body horror and science fiction, director Cronenberg this time focuses purely on the exploration of character. The superficially simplistic plot acts merely as a wire framework for us the audience to explore the conflicting psychologies of Tom and his family as his violent past is gradually revealed to us. We are forced to ask, can a human being ever be the same once exposed to violence, or is the violence they commit merely a way of preserving who they think they are? Do we view people differently when we know they have a violent past out of fear for what they might do to us or simply for the fact that they ever had the ability to be violent at all? It's these questions and more that make the film stand out from seemingly similar dramas, as Cronenberg's direction forces us sometimes at point blank range and with great brutality to consider not just the act of violence portrayed on screen but what the cognitive effects such events will have on a person and a community for years to come. Viggo Mortensen plays Tom with a quiet subdued energy and appears as genial as he does restrained, but Ed Harris' disturbing performance as Fogarty is the real scene stealer, with his menacing scarred eye acting as a physical reminder of how we all wear violence from our past differently. The story's ferocity, both visual and implied, acts as its own message on how violence reveals to us our inner natures and can sometimes enable us to discover things about ourselves we never knew or wanted to know we possessed. Leaving us all to ask whether any moralistic questions on violence really even matter when survival of its most basic kind is at stake. A question that's Tom and also perhaps one day ourselves will have to answer whether we want to or not.