She senses it. That pale horror in a mother’s face after she births her baby sets the tone for this depressingly brilliant film directed by Lynne Ramsay who, based on the book by Lionel Shriver, has created one of the most notorious villains in modern cinema – Kevin. Kevin is quite real as a brat child. He doesn’t move around or jump or squeal like those silly brat kids you would typically see in movies. Kids are always objectified as these things. Things that are forever cute and bubbly. Things that yearn for kisses and hugs. For once, the cliché is broken. Kevin is not right from the beginning. He doesn’t disintegrate mentally. He rather integrates all patches of evil so evident during childhood and shapes up into one invincible devil who could churn your stomach by a calm stare. The film subtly crosscuts (distinguishable by Eva’s hairdo) between Eva’s cold memories with her son Kevin and her present grief and overpowering sense of guilt. Tilda Swinton delivers a gut-wrenching performance as a mother who is pathetically clueless about the psyche of her young man and hence bears the conundrum in her mind long enough for it to have deepened its roots to the point of no reprieve.