Andrew reviews the biopic of Britain's most notorious prisoner, Bronson.

My first encounter with Danish auteur Nicolas Winding Refn came with my 35mm viewing of his 2008 surreal biopic of Britain's most notorious prisoner, Michael Peterson aka Bronson. Starring Tom Hardy as the titular Bronson in what might still be his greatest performance as an actor to date, the film is a fourth-wall breaking biography told in the subject's own words via voiceover narration and a performance art theater show functioning as interior monologue. Treading a fine line between incomprehensible horror and hilarious black comedy, the film and it's director seem less interested in what makes that kind of sociopathy tick than how Peterson creates the larger than life persona and character of Bronson for himself.

Picked up initially for a petty crime,

instead finds new notoriety and infamy as England's most violent prisoner when his newfound niche seems to involve throttling prison guards and orderlies for the sake of it. At one point

is briefly released back into society where he becomes an illegal street boxing sensation before deliberately placing himself back in imprisonment. Most confounding and relentlessly fascinating about

is the mercurial motivation driving his actions, which are born less out of uncivilized masculinity than sheer boredom. When a moment of redemption in the eyes of society and the prison warden arises for instance, we think foolishly

is finally ready to grow up only to impulsively go backwards again and again with the same old routine of holding a prison guard or staff member hostage for no other reason than causing some mayhem. The end is always the same for

in solitary confinement but the thrill of engaging his prison guards is just too insatiable to resist.