You ever see a movie where one guy shows up right at the end and just... hijacks the entire thing? That is exactly what happened with William Hurt in A History of Violence. Most actors need two hours of screen time, a tragic backstory, and maybe a prosthetic nose to get an Oscar nod. Hurt did it with less than ten minutes. Seriously. He enters the frame, acts like a total weirdo, tries to murder his brother, and then leaves.
And yet, decades later, it’s still the part of the movie everyone talks about.
David Cronenberg’s 2005 masterpiece is already a heavy hitter. You've got Viggo Mortensen playing Tom Stall, a mild-mannered diner owner who might actually be a cold-blooded killer named Joey. You've got Maria Bello giving one of the most raw performances of the 2000s. But then, in the final act, we go to Philadelphia. We meet Richie Cusack.
The Richie Cusack Energy Was Just Different
When William Hurt stepped onto the set of William Hurt A History of Violence, he wasn't playing a standard mob boss. We’ve seen those. The gravelly voice, the expensive suit, the "respect the family" monologues. Richie is different. He’s theatrical. He’s fussy. He’s weirdly polite until he isn't.
Honestly, the way he greets Joey (Viggo) is kind of hilarious and terrifying at the same time. He’s sitting there in this massive, gaudy mansion, acting like they’re just two brothers catching up on old times. "How's the coffee in Indiana?" It’s all very domestic until you realize Richie is genuinely annoyed that his brother didn't just die years ago because it made Richie look bad to the "Commission."
The nuance Hurt brings is wild. He plays Richie with this bubbling resentment that feels decades old. It’s not just business; it’s sibling rivalry taken to a psychopathic level. He actually complains that their mother liked Joey more, even though Joey was the "unpredictable" one.
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Ten Minutes to an Oscar Nomination
Let's talk about the math here. William Hurt A History of Violence is 96 minutes long. Hurt is on screen for maybe 8 or 9 minutes. The Academy usually loves a "most improved" or "longest time on screen" type of winner, but they couldn't ignore this.
Why did it work? Because he was a master of the "mini-arc." In that brief window, he manages to show:
- False warmth.
- Deep-seated childhood trauma.
- Professional frustration.
- Absolute, cold-blooded murder.
There is a specific scene where things go south during an attempted garroting. One of Richie's goons messes up the hit on Joey. Richie’s reaction isn't just anger—it’s pure, baffled disbelief. He turns to the guy and yells, "How do you fuck that up?!" It’s become one of the most quoted lines in Cronenberg's filmography. He’s not even mad at the violence; he’s mad at the incompetence.
Why This Role Redefined William Hurt’s Career
By 2005, Hurt was already a legend. He had the Best Actor win for Kiss of the Spider Woman. He had the Broadcast News fame. But he’d sort of entered that "elder statesman" phase where people expected him to be dignified and quiet.
Richie Cusack was a middle finger to that expectation.
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It reminded everyone that Hurt could be dangerous. He could be funny. He could be ugly. In a movie that is basically an autopsy of American violence, Hurt played the guy who actually enjoys the gore. While Viggo’s character is trying to run away from his past, Hurt’s character is the past that refuses to be forgotten. He’s the physical embodiment of the "history" in the title.
Cronenberg and Hurt: A Weirdly Perfect Match
David Cronenberg is known for "body horror," but A History of Violence is more about "soul horror." It’s about how violence changes the shape of a family. Hurt understood this perfectly. He didn't play Richie like a monster from a horror movie; he played him like a disappointed older brother who happens to own several silencers.
The chemistry between Hurt and Mortensen is fascinating because they don't look like brothers, yet they feel like they share the same blood. It’s in the way they move. There’s a stillness in Joey that matches the frantic energy of Richie.
What People Get Wrong About Richie
A lot of fans think Richie is the "final boss" in a video game sense. He’s not. He’s actually kind of a loser in the mob world. He’s the guy who has been held back because his brother was a loose cannon. He’s desperate for approval from the higher-ups. That’s what makes him so dangerous—he’s killing his brother to get a promotion.
How to Watch This Performance Like a Pro
If you’re going back to watch William Hurt A History of Violence tonight, don't just wait for the shooting to start. Look at Hurt’s hands. Look at how he adjusts his sweater. He’s a man who cares about appearances because, in his world, appearances are the only thing keeping him alive.
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Then, watch the shift. The moment he realizes Joey isn't going to just "die for him," the mask slips. The voice drops an octave. It’s chilling.
Your Next Steps for a Deep Dive
If you want to really appreciate what Hurt did here, you should do a "Supporting Actor Masterclass" weekend.
Watch these three in order:
- A History of Violence (2005): Focus entirely on the Philadelphia sequence.
- Body Heat (1981): See a young William Hurt playing the victim of a plot rather than the mastermind.
- The Big Chill (1983): Watch him play a completely different kind of "broken" man.
It shows the range. From the suave leading man to the guy screaming about a botched garroting, Hurt was a chameleon. He didn't need a lot of time to make a mark; he just needed a good script and a reason to be weird.
To truly understand the impact, pay attention to the silence after Richie is gone. The movie feels emptier without his chaotic energy. That’s the sign of a performance that actually matters.