Our understanding of fraternity between British boarding-school mates may not be complete, but that might actually help us as we are suddenly launched into the adventure of one such pair. We might say Marcus and Vaughn are best friends, but they don't seem all that familiar with each other. Their initial conversations are strained, perhaps because the more aggressive Marcus (Martin McCann) has arranged to go on a hunting trip to the Scottish Highlands with Vaughn (Jack Lowden of Dunkirk, Mary Queen of Scots, and the BBC miniseries War & Peace). Vaughn is expecting to be a father soon and is hesitant to leave his pregnant fiancee; he has also never hunted before. The night before their hunt, the two men drink and dance at a village pub, pairing up with young women for the night despite being warned by the locals to keep to themselves.
If this sounds like the setup to a horror movie, you'd be on the right track. Calibre quickly ramps up the energy as a geopolitical thriller in the vein of Deliverance. It may be partway around the globe from Appalachia, but there's no denying the similarities in geography, social structure, economic disparity, isolated and traditionalist culture, and even some patterns of language. I'd argue that, unlike that 1972 hicksploitation flick, Calibre works better toward understanding the nature of human violence in the wilderness without resorting to too much shock value and degeneration of human bodies. But, then, this Scottish picture has plenty of blood, even if it is rooted in realism.
Waking up hungover, the two foolishly stick to their plan and go hunting. Marcus, snorting coke to stay alert, lets Vaughn borrow his gun because the miserable newbie forgot his ammo, even though they are aware this breaks strict gun laws. So when Vaughn finally prepares to shoot a deer, we know the worst will happen. And it does, when the deer turns and Vaughn's bullet kills a little boy behind it. The boy's father shows up and, in a bereaved rage, attacks Vaughn before Marcus kills him. It's hard not to shout at all of them for not wearing proper hunting attire, not scouting the location first, children separated from guardians, not being in the right state of mind, but what's done, as Lady Macbeth would say, cannot be undone.
The two protagonists make a series of grave blunders -- they do not bury the bodies, fleeing the scene and talking to a nearby gas station operator before deciding to return that night -- that are nothing short of infuriating. In fact, by the film's halfway point, I rather wanted these guys to be tarred and feathered. Having returned to town, their sins revisit them: their tires are slashed by a jealous, toxic man for having slept with the aforementioned forbidden women, and they are spotted returning to the village after burying the bodies just before dawn. They learn the identities of the men they killed even as they are entreated by the town leaders to help find investors for their remote community. The incidents pile up, weaving an intricate tapestry of anxieties so fraught, even viewing it made me feel sick to my stomach. The film's chromatic scale turns bleak, gray and brown and sickly green, while shadows lengthen and sweat shines. That shrill, heady sort of soundscape (music and mixing) typical of the genre is sure to raise your gooseflesh if you listen in surround sound.
I won't reveal the rest of the action, climax, or ending here because it's utterly thrilling. While rarely unexpected, the plot twists are given a distinct edge by the filmmakers due to the raw acting of Lowden and McCann, the setting and sounds, and the stunning editing choices. It helps, too, that the film supplies a few thematic intrigues as it progresses, especially in terms of debt and investment; it also shifts the tropes of outsiders as foreign to the differences between urban and rural communities, something infinitely more universal and interesting.
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