dredd

Peach Trees… this is Ma-Ma. Somewhere in this block are two judges. I want them dead. Until I get what I want, the block is locked down. All clans, every level… hunt the judges down. Everyone else clear the corridors and stay the fuck out of our way until the shooting stops. If I hear of anyone helping the judges, I will kill them and the next generation of their family. As for the judges… sit tight, or run. Makes no difference. You’re mine.

So says Ma-Ma (a genuinely frightening Lena Headey), the sliced-up ex-hooker turned gang warlord who rules over Peach Trees, a 200-story concrete apartment tower in the heart of Mega City One. Opposing her is Judge Dredd (Karl Urban) - the living, mythic embodiment of the law, his sense of justice as rigid as his perpetually clenched jawline - and his overmatched rookie partner Cassandra Anderson (Olivia Thirlby). Their presence threatens Ma-Ma’s manufacture and distribution of a deadly new narcotic called Slo-Mo, which, suffice to say, is a problem. Locking down the entire building and bringing two-hundred floors worth of heavily armed muscle down on their heads is the solution. 

Dredd was a box office disappointment in 2012, but the film has built a devoted cult following in the years since and it’s not hard to see why. Karl Urban lacks the implacable physical stature of Sylvester Stallone (who was born to play the part, but whose 1995 version was an overproduced and tonally cross-wired slag heap), but he captures the unyielding, tempered steel essence of the character - more symbol than man, which is why he never, ever removes his helmet (take notes, Sly). The film mostly ignores the satirical edge that the comics were known for (and some might argue that scrapping the social commentary defeats the whole point), but the tone is lean, mean and vicious. The Slo-Mo scenes (in which the brain perceives events at 1% their normal speed) have a distinctively surreal, otherworldly visual kick - as if the hypersaturated colors are are about to sear straight through the film stock. When Dredd and Anderson barge in on a drug den and a shootout ensues, we watch as bullets deliberately furrow through flesh, spatters of blood and brain matter suspended in midair like a Pollack pastiche. Earlier, Ma-Ma orders a trio of rogue dealers to be thrown from the 200th floor - but a hit of Slo-Mo as a parting gift ensures their descent to the atrium below literally feels like hours.       

The film was directed by Pete Travis, but tends to be associated more strongly with Alex Garland, who wrote the screenplay. The premise has the endorphin-fueled quality of an addictive video game loop - no choice but to fight straight to the top, floor by floor, enemy by enemy, until the end boss (Ma-Ma) is finally reached - which is probably why it was blatantly lifted from the Indonesian action flick The Raid: Redemption (though Garland has strenuously denied this). Urban is well-paired with Thirlby, who, in a fascinating twist, is actually a cadet of mediocre standing - only in the running to become a judge because of her unprecedented psychic abilities. A psychic’s natural empathy is seemingly at odds with a judge’s cold-blooded “judge, jury and executioner” remit - and Thirlby plays this confliction well. Attempts to pigeonhole Urban as a generic action star now seem, in retrospect, a failure of imagination; his subsequent performances as Bones in the Star Trek reboot and Billy Butcher on The Boys have shown what a terrific actor he is. But you can tell he’s having fun. By the time Ma-Ma summons a quartet of corrupt judges to finish the job, you can almost hear his back molars cracking with righteous indignation (his snarled line readings sound like they were filtered through a double helping of gravel). The film is pure, muscular pulp - a triumph of visceral exploitation, endlessly watchable. And as the climax nears, the Peach Trees battleground in flames, Dredd patches into the complex’s intercom system and finally offers his official rebuttal to Ma-Ma’s opening salvo. 

In case you people have forgotten, this block operates under the same rules as the rest of the city. Ma-Ma is not the law… I’m the law. Ma-Ma is a common criminal - guilty of murder, guilty of the manufacture and distribution of the narcotic known as Slo-Mo, and as of now under sentence of death. Any who obstruct me in carrying out my duty will be treated as an accessory to her crimes… you have been warned. And as for you Ma-Ma… judgment time.