The Superhero Myth and the Art of Violence: Revisiting Cronenberg’s ‘A History of Violence’
There’s something oddly satisfying about watching a film that defies easy categorization. A History of Violence, David Cronenberg’s 2005 crime thriller, is one such film. It’s currently enjoying a resurgence on HBO Max, and personally, I think this is no accident. In an era where superhero movies dominate the box office, Cronenberg’s film feels like a necessary antidote—a stark reminder that not all stories about extraordinary individuals need capes or spandex.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how A History of Violence quietly subverts the very idea of the superhero. Viggo Mortensen’s Tom Stall isn’t a masked vigilante; he’s a small-town diner owner who, in a moment of unexpected precision, foils a robbery. But here’s the twist: Tom isn’t who he seems. His past is a shadow, a violent history that threatens to consume his present. If you take a step back and think about it, this is the antithesis of the superhero narrative. There’s no redemption arc, no moral clarity. Just the brutal consequences of a life built on lies.
Cronenberg has never been shy about his disdain for superhero movies. In 2012, he dismissed them as ‘adolescent power fantasies,’ a label that, in my opinion, is both accurate and reductive. What many people don’t realize is that Cronenberg himself directed a film based on a comic book—A History of Violence. This detail alone is ironic, but it also highlights a broader misunderstanding: comics are not inherently juvenile. They’re a medium, not a genre. From my perspective, Cronenberg’s critique of superhero films feels like a missed opportunity to elevate the conversation about what comics—and cinema—can achieve.
One thing that immediately stands out is how A History of Violence dismantles the myth of the hero. Tom Stall’s actions aren’t noble; they’re survival instincts honed by a dark past. The violence in the film isn’t glorified—it’s disturbing, visceral, and deeply consequential. This raises a deeper question: Why do we romanticize figures of power in our stories? Is it because we crave simplicity in a complex world? Or is it, as Cronenberg suggests, a reflection of our own adolescent desires?
Viggo Mortensen’s performance is a masterclass in subtlety. Coming off his role as Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings, Mortensen could have easily leaned into the hero archetype. Instead, he chose to portray a man whose identity is a fragile construct. A detail that I find especially interesting is how Mortensen sees his roles in A History of Violence and Eastern Promises as mirrors. Both characters are hiding their true selves, but while Nikolai Luzhin in Eastern Promises is a gangster with a conscience, Tom Stall is a man running from his own brutality.
Cronenberg and Mortensen’s collaboration is one of modern cinema’s great partnerships. From A History of Violence to Crimes of the Future, their films explore the darker corners of human nature. What this really suggests is that the best storytelling doesn’t shy away from complexity. It embraces it. And yet, the fact that their proposed Eastern Promises sequel never materialized feels like a missed opportunity—a wound that even revisiting A History of Violence can’t fully heal.
If you’re streaming A History of Violence on HBO Max, you’re not just watching a crime thriller. You’re witnessing a deconstruction of the hero myth, a critique of violence, and a testament to the power of nuanced storytelling. Personally, I think it’s a film that challenges us to look beyond the surface—to question the narratives we’re fed and the heroes we’re told to admire. In a world saturated with superheroes, A History of Violence reminds us that the most compelling stories are often the ones that refuse to be neatly categorized.
Final Thought: What if the real superheroes aren’t the ones saving the world, but the ones confronting their own demons? A History of Violence doesn’t provide easy answers, but it invites us to ask the right questions. And in that ambiguity lies its enduring power.
