There is a Chinese proverb that claims if you “consider the past, you shall know the future.” For as long as there have been misdeeds and wretchedness, mankind has tried to resurrect itself in a new light by putting distance and time between itself and its past lives. And for just as long, it has come to realize its own past is not easily escapable.

Eccentric director David Cronenberg loosely adapts the graphic tale “A History of Violence,” created by John Wagner and Vince Locke, about a man running from his own violent past and some old ghosts who are intent on not letting him forget.

Viggo Mortensen plays the film’s antihero, Tom Stall, a small-town diner owner whose small-town lifestyle is interrupted by two robbers. When Stall disposes of the two with relative ease, it sparks the attention of mobsters in Philadelphia who have been looking for a man named Joey Cusack.

When these hardened criminals start hounding Stall, convinced he is this younger brother of a mob boss, his family begins to uncover dark, violent secrets, and begins to believe he might be Cusack after all.

It is very hard to define a distinct attitude toward this film because of its complex arrangements. There are certain scenes throughout that are so slow and awkward, it is hard to tell if this is a motif with a purpose or if it is Cronenberg’s failure at pacing an adaptation of two works that aren’t necessarily parallel.

In another questionable element, the acting of this movie is dumbed down to a point where it seems to be anything but genuine. This was especially poignant in the beginning, as the actors’ conversations are so slow and redundant they could only be compared to the lowered language of a children’s television show.

Despite these ambiguities, Cronenberg’s signature is as present as ever in “History,” with some tangential and graphic sex scenes. The sight of Mortensen and Maria Bello in intertwined oral sex is as definite a Cronenberg scene as multiple stabbings in a shower is a Hitchcock scene. And just as definite as it is a Cronenberg, it is all done straight-in-your-face and makes for an awkward five minutes.

The truest (and the most accurate) adaptation from the graphic novel is the violence. Even though there are surprisingly few violent scenes, the violent scenes that were included are displayed with extreme attention to detail, making “History” home to one of the most realistic shotgun fatalities in the history of cinema.

In praise to Cronenberg’s vision, his graphic realism embodies the true violent nature of the book’s illustrations – an element that originally gave the book its popularity.

Even with its impressive, garish grandstanding, the film’s inconceivable time lines, overacting and inability to connect overshadows its periodic genius.

Don’t expect this film – especially its ending – to be redeeming in any classical sense or think the film’s lack of enthusiasm can be excused by Cronenberg’s morbid disposition. The only redemption that can come from this project is to heighten the awareness of its origin.