They
were the puppets who put the slap in slapstick (and the stick). Punch &
Judy shows are now rather infamous for their mirthful treatment of domestic
abuse, but traditional shows always ended badly for the reprehensible Punch. He
would be lucky to merely wind up at the gallows, because more often than not,
the devil himself came to claim Punch’s loutish soul. Arguably, this feminist morality
play lets its meta Punch puppeteer off easy because it lacks the fire and
brimstone of its way-back-when inspiration, but what unfolds is still not exactly
subtle. This time, Judy will have her revenge in screenwriter-director Mirrah
Foulkes’ Judy & Punch, which releases today on-demand.
“Professor”
Punch and his wife Judy have returned to the 16th Century town of
Seaside (far from the sea, according to the film’s running joke), after his
mean drunk temper forced them to abandon more profitable engagements. The truth
is, Judy is the better puppeteer, but she lets Punch take the bows for their
Punch & Judy shows. Unfortunately, Punch cannot help reverting to his old
drunken ways, but this time his negligent behavior causes the death of their
infant son (although this is a staple of old school Punch & Judy shows, it
is rather shocking to see it in a live action film).
When
confronted, the guilty Punch lashes out and kills her too, or so he assumes. It
turns out Punch doesn’t quite finish the job. However, after disposing of her almost
but not entirely lifeless body, he capitalizes on Seaside’s superstition and intolerance,
framing the elderly servants who were hosting he and Judy for his own crimes.
Foulkes
struggles to find the right tone throughout J&P, which might be why
the attempts at black humor only land sporadically. On the other hand, she
incorporates the narrative elements of traditional Punch & Judy shows in
clever ways. She also ties in all together into a satisfying third act that
serves as a contemporary riff on Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, while
deliberately echoing the rude absurdity of Terry Gilliam and Monty Python’s
Medieval mayhem.
Mia
Wasikowska’s frosty reserve is suitably effective for Judy, but Damon Herriman
ironically shows far more range and leaves a deeper impression as the destructively
volatile, deeply insecure, and pathetically craven Punch. Yet, the real human pathos
comes from Terry Norris and Brenda Palmer, who portray the elderly couple
framed by Punch with exquisitely tragic dignity.
Maybe
J&P would have worked better if doubled-down on violent theatricality
and went for the full Sweeney Todd, so to speak. It earns a lot of credit for
originality, but it makes its points like a puppet Punch beating a puppet Judy
over the head with a stick. Still, it gets measured recommendation for viewers
looking for something different, especially if they get the cultural source
material. With that in mind, Judy & Punch releases today (6/5) on
VOD.
