“The Dead Don’t Hurt” (2024) is about two immigrants who find love in the untamed Wild West. Viggo Mortenson wrote, directed and starred in the film as Danish immigrant and vet Holger Olsen, but his character takes a back seat to Vivienne Le Coudy (Vicky Krieps), a Franco-Canadian immigrant with an independent, adventurous spirit. Olsen brings her to his Nevada home, which happens to be near a corrupt town which the wicked, black-suited Weston Jeffries (Solly McLeod) regularly terrorizes. When Olsen volunteers to serve as a Union soldier, it impacts them forever.
The romance between Vivienne and Olsen is swoon worthy. If everyone pretends that “Green Book” (2018) does not exist, even if Krieps and Mortenson were not amazing actors, this romance is not a heavy lift. Name one person attracted to men who did not find Mortensen hot in “The Lord of the Rings” franchise, including the elves. Also Mortenson’s work in “A History of Violence” (2005) and “The Road” (2009) lay the groundwork for making him believable as a man that a smart person would not want to fight yet gentle enough to be the perfect protector and not domineering. Olsen is a man of few words, and the words that he does utter are music to Vivienne’s ears. He is clearly besotted with her, and they are just happy to be together in their own little world until his sense of justice and patriotism lures him away to fight against slavery though seem to be impervious to the local ills.
Vivienne is a natural woman without airs. She expresses how she feels. Regardless of how attracted she is to Olsen, she is a bit appalled at the state of Olsen’s home and does not hide it. “The Dead Don’t Hurt” is at its best when she just has quotidian encounters with regular people: a piano player, Claudio Garcia (Rafel Plana) and his daughter, Isabel (Natalie Anorve Toledano), a flower supplier, and the bar owner, Alan Kendall (W. Earl Brown). So her cold demeanor with Weston is in stark contrast to her normal way with the world and is a silent condemnation that he notices. Despite being in danger and hating that Olsen left for war when he did not have to, she chooses to stay and elevate their home until he returns.
“The Dead Don’t Hurt” features an excellent ensemble cast. Danny Huston plays the money bags mayor, and Garret Dillahunt plays the bad guy’s daddy. Alex Breaux, who played a contemporary version of Frankenstein’s monster in “Depraved” (2019), plays another tragic figure as Ed Wilkins.
Mortenson chooses to structure the narrative by jumping around the timeline, which includes Vivienne’s childhood, and spans the end of Vivienne’s prior romantic relationship in San Francisco to the end of their time in their home. There are drawbacks to this structure. It leeches the narrative of some tension, especially if moviegoers watch the preview before “The Dead Don’t Hurt.” If you know who is going to die, there is not much left to do in the denouement. If Olsen is a war veteran with two wars worth of experience, and Weston is a big bully who has messed with everyone except Olsen, their eventual showdown feels like a foregone conclusion and is not as satisfying as the setup. The film is top-heavy with violence, and the war unfolds off-screen.
Without jumping timelines, Vivienne’s reaction to Olsen’s enlistment would feel selfish not like wise, timeless counsel. Viewers would not know the significance of the red wide scarf that she wears. It also imbues the supporting characters’ casual moments with more significance because Mortenson has revealed their eventual demise. It gets a little heavy-handed. Before one character gets executed by hanging, he is constantly shown braiding the rope. There is even a black (scape) goat near the tree—eyeroll. Is it cheating? Maybe. The story is a little trite especially as Vivienne goes down a long road of tribulations for making her personal, understated, proud stand against local tyranny. Mortensen was verging on “Tess of the d’Urbervilles” territory if Krieps was not so good at creating a character whose spirit never wanes.
There is a ham-fisted, eleventh-hour revelation of a sickness that causes one character to die and possibly another character to act like a crazy person. At least it was not tuberculosis. One character seems to exist just so he can be the central dead body underneath the red title. While McLeod may be the relative unknown, he holds his own, and there is not a trace of a British accent in his sadistic villain, but Weston is such an over-the-top cinematic bad guy that he needs a mustache to twirl. He hates Spanish, is a rapist and sides with the Confederacy, especially in matters of taste. He shares one great stare off with his dad, which could probably power a small apartment building. There is an underdeveloped storyline of Weston being a useful, manipulated madman for profit, which would have made a great subplot that feels forgotten in the shuffle. McLeod tries to add some pathos to his character’s inability to function like a decent human being, but Mortenson the writer misses it or prefers to leave it unspoken.
“The Dead Don’t Hurt” does offer one valuable lesson. Big cities are safer than the countryside or small towns. Vivienne was living a decent life with a flower shop in San Francisco then she follows some hot guy with no common sense and is suddenly in multiple levels of danger. How is a man of the world like Olsen so naïve? Did Weston become mean overnight? If you feel cheated that Mortenson does not show Vivienne effectively using a gun such as when she hunted the duck, you should. Without Krieps in the role, Vivienne would be another noble woman who suffers for love. The only difference is that Olsen is somewhat worth it, but if you are over women getting tortured so that men can play the avenging hero, especially one as deft with a gun as Vivienne, it would be understandable regardless of the quality of the execution.
“The Dead Don’t Hurt” has the advantage of being shot in Ontario, British Columbia, Durango, Mexico. The land is an unofficial character, and the stillness, long shots and lack of flash to Mortensen’s shooting style adds texture to the narrative that is missing from the page. Even the aridness of Olsen’s home seems picturesque. It was also a brilliant choice to show a land with a population of immigrants speaking multiple languages, having different accents and ethnicities. While it is a bit of utopian, aspirational fiction that all immigrants would interact harmoniously, it is counterbalanced with enough strife that it does not feel too unrealistic. There is the America that could exist if greed, barbarism and lack of scientific advancement did not stifle it.
Even with undeniable love, there is also the tension between genders. Mortensen dedicated “The Dead Don’t Hurt” to his mother, who inspired Vivienne. Mortensen really puts the character through the ringer: is it loosely based on true events or an unconscious exercise in balancing the scales? Olsen adores her but also is left reeling from the ways that he must recalibrate for her boundaries and way of life in a way that she does for him, and he takes for granted. Olsen is depicted as special for the way that he accepts her, but Vivienne gets annoyed with his well-founded sense of entitlement. He is right—she does like him and makes allowances for him, but she off sets it with physical cues. They are imperfect people who accept each other even if it is challenging.
If “The Promised Land’ (2023) is any indication, there is a market for period dramas with working class women and Danish veterans falling for each other. While this story is less riveting, Mortensen uses enough fresh, impeccable ingredients with a stellar cast and awe-inspiring landscapes, ticket buyers may not notice the narrative flaws. After “The Dead Don’t Hurt” ends, you may not be left with a lot except appreciation for the performances, but it does somewhat improve with repeat viewings.
