In A History of Violence, Viggo Mortensen plays the roadrunner and everybody else plays coyotes. Watching the near-NC-17 level fight scenes in all of their one-sided grisliness, you get the idea that if the bad guys painted a tunnel on the side of a mountain, Mortensen would just run right through it.

That’s not to say the action is cartoonish. Rather the fight scenes are like orange juice: smooth, but with a sizable helping of pulp. Mortensen beats down goons with pitiless precision, breaking noses, snapping necks and shooting jaws off while the camera focuses in on some of the finest grotesqueries this side of Rob Zombie’s The Devil’s Rejects.

Mortensen (Aragorn from The Lord of the Rings Trilogy) plays Tom Stall, a man whose rage rivals that of Clint Eastwood in Unforgiven.

Indeed, Violence and Unforgiven share much in common. Both feature protagonists who have crafted new, peaceful lives for themselves as family men in an effort to atone for the sins of their pasts (pasts which are partially revealed but still mostly ambiguous throughout both films). And just as Clint Eastwood’s Bill Munny reverted to his cold-blooded ways when his pal, played by Morgan Freeman, was mercilessly slaughtered, so does Stall become a blood-thirsty maniac after-well you’ll have to see the flick for that little nugget.

The film opens with Stall living the American Dream in Millbrook, Ind., or, as Cosmo Kramer would call it, Anytown, USA. By day, he’s serving pie and coffee at his diner, and by night he’s putting his kids to bed and having that special kind of awkward married sex with his wife, Edie (Maria Bello, The Cooler).

But his blissful life is shattered when he thwarts two homicidal robbers attempting to hold up his diner. Media laud him as a true American hero and his deeds soon gain national attention. The next day a black, tinted Chrysler rolls up carrying a few men from Stall’s previous life.

Carl Fogaty (a deliciously snide Ed Harris) and his goons are Philadelphia mobsters who keep calling Stall “Joey.” Fogaty, who’s scarred left eye looks like something out of Sin City, badgers Stall and his family, delighting in the fact that Stall has obviously kept them in the dark about his past. At one point Fogaty taunts Edie, saying, “Why don’t you ask your husband why he’s so damn good at killing people?”

The pacing of the film is remarkable. Director David Cronenberg (The Fly, Naked Lunch) proves to be a master at lulling the audience into a comfort zone with soft, feel-good scenes that serve as a long fuse for the impending explosion of hardcore ass-kicking. Stall’s conflict with Fogarty comes sooner rather than later. And with a running time of only 95 minutes, your bladder will not hate you for splurging for the 74-ounce refillable soda.

While most of the characters are stock characters – the school bully, the cute daughter, or my favorite, the South Philly mobster complete with over-the-top “How you doin’?” accent – some have a real mysterious depth to them. The direction Edie takes is either incredibly realistic or completely outlandish – I can’t decide. But to realize your husband killed a bunch of people before you met him and he never told you is a pretty unfathomable situation, so I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt.

The film is not without its flaws. Stall’s relationship with his son (unconvincing TV actor Ashton Holmes) is out of wack at times. There’s an awful little aside in which the boy has problems with a meathead in a varsity letter jacket at school. The episode between geek and jock plays like an after-school special and proves little other than the fact that apparently Stall’s ass-kicking genes have been passed down.

You’ll be laughing at the film almost as much as you are with it. But Cronenberg no doubt intended this, as his tongue is placed firmly in cheek when it comes to the film’s depiction of mobsters.

Mortensen is solid again, but in the same weapon-toting way he’s always been affective. Carlito’s Way, G.I. Jane, Psycho, Lord of the Rings and now this film – Mortensen’s filmography is starting to look like a history of violence. Let’s just hope he hasn’t been typecast.

Contact reporter Patrick Gavin at gavindbk@gmail.com.