Building on his redemptive adaptation of Bug, William Friedkin reunited with playwright Tracy Letts to bring to the screen Killer Joe, an earlier Letts play that in some ways is darker and more sinister than the rampant paranoia and insecurity of their previous collaboration. Unlike Bug, which focuses on lonely and drifting individuals, Killer Joe uncovers the most malevolent elements of the family and how it is often those with whom you are closest and in whom you confide that will do you the most harm. It also explores what happens when an unmovable force collides with a chaotic, unstoppable object. In this case, the force is Joe (Matthew McConaughey) who straddles the line between light and dark as a police detective who offers his services as a hitman on the side. Through McConaughey’s cool demeanor, slick clothes and flawless vehicle, we understand how he has been able to succeed at this double-sided venture: becoming two different people when it is necessary and knowing how to differentiate between them at all times.

Unfortunately for him, the chaotic object headed his way is the Smith family, a veritable hodge podge of Southern Gothic stereotypes with the added weight of being centered in reality. In their fragmented situation, son Chris (Emile Hirsch) owes money to drug dealers and arranges with his imbecile father Ansel (Thomas Haden Church) to hire a hitman to kill Adele, Chris’ mother and Ansel’s ex-wife, in order to obtain her large life insurance policy, the beneficiary of which is Chris’ younger sister Dottie (Juno Temple). Into this mess enters calm and collected Joe, who demands half the payout in advance but settles for Dottie as a retainer when Chris cannot pay. From this sordid setup, Friedkin generates a tremendous amount of tension through simple interactions between the various characters. Everyone is on the make, everyone suspects the other of being untrustworthy, if not outright dangerous and everyone demonstrates an incredible lack of foresight. Given the clash of stupidity and icy immorality, fireworks inevitably ensue.

Friedkin was fond of saying that if a movie is cast properly, “you’re 90% of the way there.” With such a character-saturated script, Killer Joe relies heavily on its cast and the results are massively successful. All the principal players are perfectly realized by the respective actors, particularly the unlikely casting of McConaughey as the cool, impersonal killer who insists upon a superficiality of decorum and civility while maintaining his own warped morality. His handsomeness only serves to make him even more disarming. At this point in his career, it was risky move for McConaughey to take this role in an attempt to shed his former romantic comedy persona, and the risk-taking becomes part of his acting. His steely eyes, calm demeanor and insistence of order reveal a darker, malevolent side to this actor that, like Adam Sandler, can offer a lot more than he is often asked to give. As the overwhelmed Chris, Emile Hirsch is terrific, playing a young man who seems more willing to have his mother killed because he is out of options rather than pure hatred. Like William H. Macy in Fargo, there is an urgency and desperation in his performance that speaks to how quickly and how badly things unfold for him. With her smeared eyeliner and thick accent, Gina Gershon as Chris’s stepmother, Sharla, gets deep into the skin of this Southern archetype, as the kind of woman who values sex as a weapon to defend herself until it is brutally turned against her. Juno Temple, beatified and innocent, has the tricky role of being both victimized by her surroundings and somewhat aware of how to navigate the situation. It would be too easy to describe her merely as collateral damage for Joe and her family. In her own way, she understands what is happening and what steps she must take in order to avoid a fateful ending. And yet, perhaps the most surprising performance is Thomas Haden Church, often cast as wise-ass and mischievous types, but here is so believable and funny as the dunderheaded father Ansel who, perhaps because of his inability to keep his family together, is easily pushed around by all of them. Church maintains his ignorance and insufficient intelligence throughout, only showing loyalty and sincerity when it becomes clear that his life is on the line.

Friedkin described Letts’ play as a black comedy love story, and those elements are definitely present. A number of scenes, especially involving Church as Ansel, are laugh-out loud funny – until you are quickly pulled back into the quagmire of immorality and depravity. Yet, like his other masterworks, Friedkin’s ability to maintain a single tone and carry it through the duration of the movie elevates this pulpy material to new heights. The ‘love’ angle stems from Joe and Dottie’s twisted relationship but there is the unmistakable hint that this may not be the first time Dottie has been taken advantage of by a man. Furthermore, are Joe’s intentions for her purely carnal or does he truly see in her a purity and sincerity that he hardly ever encounters in his line of work? Like Bug, Letts and Friedkin leave us with no easy answers and both movies end on a cliff-hanger final shot. But the point is not a tidy plot, rather a close look at a family gone amok and the inscrutable force threatening to level everything. When an outsider invades your inner circle, is he the true threat, or does the danger originate from within?