Review: Richard Jewell

Richard Jewell
Cert: 15 / 131 mins / Dir. Clint Eastwood / Trailer

"The world will know his name and the truth" proclaims the poster for Richard Jewell, with director Clint Eastwood bravely carving this cinematic monument a mere twenty four years after our eponymous hero's trial by media for his alleged role in the 1996 Atlanta bombing, fifteen years after his official exoneration, after a 1997 magazine article, a 2014 documentary and a 2019 book. Clint, you're the real unsung hero of this whole damned saga. Bravo.

Following a nuts-and-bolts lead up, we follow Jewell (Paul Walter Hauser) through the events of that fateful evening and into its aftermath. The lowly security guard who discovers a suspect package at a concert is initially lauded for his vigilance, then turned upon by the media (represented here largely by Olivia Wilde) as they learn that the FBI (represented here largely by John Hamm) considers Jewell to be a leading suspect in the case, albeit with not enough evidence to actually charge him. Richard's efforts to clear his name with the assistance of lawyer Watson Bryant (Sam Rockwell) are confounded by his fitting the profile of a 'hero' bomber, and also his unerring ability to say the wrong thing to the wrong people at the wrong time. Can the truth rise above all this?

EMERGENCY

Well yes it can, since much like Just Mercy, we know from the moment the emergency occurs that Jewell did not manufacture or plant the bomb. We're shown that explicitly. So the film loses the chance to be a double-crossing conspiracy thriller and turns into a lecture instead. Irrespective of an audience's knowledge of the case, there's a far better movie to be made from playing those scenes with ambiguity. Instead the press, media and FBI become the pantomime villains in a surprisingly linear take which paints nobody in a particularly good light, and much like 2016's Sully, we're even treated to dream-sequence re-enactments of the bombing with different outcomes. Nice of Clint to keep the action throughout the film, I suppose. Because since there was no sweeping courtroom triumph to the Jewell case and the FBI eventually just dropped the charges, the story peters out anyway. So it's probably for the best that this follows it petering-in to begin with.

Paul Walter Hauser makes for a decent lead, assuming his aim is to keep a respectable distance between the character and the audience's empathy. He plays 'borderline unlikeable' fairly well (with a conflict that's missing from the rest of the movie) yet still stays within the boundaries of writer Billy Ray's screenplay. The supporting cast are largely fine in roles that feel like quickly typed caricatures rather than real people. Coming out on top is Sam Rockwell, firmly in the runner-up position for screen time but he appears to be the only person on the set trying to be in a better film.

CHANGING

To his credit, Eastwood makes a solid go of being undecided whether to make a film supporting a patriotic American undergoing trial by media for a crime he didn't commit, or whether to support the FBI for investigating a gun-obsessed, authority-obsessed, incel-prototype with potentially undiagnosed learning difficulties who a) looks guilty as hell and b) keeps saying dumb things that suggest he's guilty as hell. It's just a shame that this dichotomy doesn't make for an interesting story. There are no twists, no turns and certainly no surprises. Eastwood's directorial work is procedural - never moreso than here - as he describes events rather than painting a picture. Richard Jewell may have right on its side but the film made is without passion or flair.

Although contrary to the rulebook for This Sort Of Thing, it closes with three 'what happened next' caption-cards*¹, but without accompanying photographs of the real-world players. Then again, Clint has already clumsily stitched in archive news footage of the actual Richard Jewell so there's probably no need. That's not the case all the way through, just at a point where it feels like the production was running out of time so didn't re-shoot that particular interview.

As is so often and so sadly the case with true story/injustice cinema, the story - and its participants - would be better served by someone making a documentary. Oh wait, they did.

But at least we know Richard Jewell's name and we know the truth, now.
Okay, we know some of the truth.
Okay, we know his name.

Bravo.

It's like Sully but less mawkish, if only because Clint Eastwood prefers righteous indignance.



Not particularly.



Stream it, tops.



It is not.



This is entirely possible.



There isn't.



Level 2: Sam Rockwell is in this, and also in Jojo Rabbit alongside Taiki 'IG-11' Waititi.



(It's actually more like a 4/7, but I'm deducting a point for Eastwood's inclusion of the Macarena, complete with dancing. I mean I know this is a film about a terrorist atrocity, but that's fucking gratuitous.)


*¹ One of which tells us that Sam Rockwell's lawyer Watson Bryant went on to marry his girlfriend and assistant Nadya Light. As if that had been some kind of tense undercurrent of the film, rather than one single shot of them kissing which has precisely zero effect on any of it because the screenwriter has taken the receptionist's character more for granted than the lawyer ever did...
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DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.

Review: The Mule

The Mule (Spoilers)
Cert: 15 / 116 mins / Dir. Clint Eastwood / Trailer



I've written before about the position many a movie-viewer unwittingly finds themselves in these days, with the awkwardness of separating the art from the artist. Sometimes it's easy, sometimes not so much. But the feat is perhaps at its most tricky when the presentation we see on screen appears to run a little too closely to preconceptions the audience already hold regarding its stars and creators.

Long story short, that business with the empty chair had already put Clint Eastwood on my watch-list. The flag-waving pompousness of entirely missing the point of a tragic story underlined his name in red. The Mule felt like it was going to be hard work.

STONE

Inspired by a true story (although even the film itself doesn't claim any level of documentary-type insight), Clint produces, directs and stars as 90yr old Earl Stone, a keen gardener who turned his hobby into a flourishing business, the attention of which took its toll on his family relationships. Estranged from his wife, and with his flower-farm in liquidation, Earl chances into a job which plays to another of his strengths: driving. With years of no incidents or licence points, he's just the kind of under-the-radar courier that's sought after by the Mexican drug cartels looking to move their product around the country*¹. Earl quickly becomes adept at the job, but how technically 'good' can anyone be at something which is principally 'bad'? Where do the lines of professional pride and personal ethics cross, and is it possible to see that juncture before it's passed? How much slack are we supposed to cut someone who's providing for their family while being part of the machine which destroys other peoples'?

Don't worry, that's not explored. Any of it. What begins as a treatise of the decline of blue-collar America quickly descends into a mawkish and morally myopic "no choice, guv'nor" small-c conservative fantasy of free-marketeering, where disregard of the law and the cumulative misery of others is apparently fine if you're an old white dude who served in the army 70 years ago. The film goes into intricate detail as to how Earl drifts into his new employment, and gets as close to the why as it can without flat-out celebrating him for it. But is the character narratively condemned for his actions? The tone of this review so far probably answers that.

RIVER

For all Earl's initial reticence at the job and not thinking for a second that a bunch of Mexicans in an urban garage armed with machine guns might just be getting him to transport *gasp* actual drugs, and that bit where he sees the drugs and decides to keep doing the job anyway, he's unapologetically upfront about it all. Once apprehended by the authorities, Earl freely admits to what he was doing and accepts his prison sentence with equal openness. But is there even a nanosecond of actual contrition for his crimes? Is there fuck.

Our hero's just happy to be out of the house and not be being shouted at by his family. Andy Garcia's slimy drug-baron ensures Earl is paid with his requisite amount of cash, and also throws in a couple of bikini-clad hotties to keep him busy until the small hours to boot. The casual misogyny in The Mule is, while intermittent, staggering. And as much as it may be in keeping for the characters it portrays, at no point does the screenplay feel the need to cast any judgement on those perpetrating it. I think the joke here is meant to be the curmudgeonly protagonist who doesn't quite understand how the modern world works. But after about 30 minutes, it begins to appear that this applies to the Eastwood on the other side of the camera as well.

FANTASY

As judgemental as I am, I can envision the script meeting where Clint (in The Big Chair) insists "no, no Earl doesn't have to say he's sorry because he's not and that's fine because that's his character and don't forget this is a true story, and if you belittle or emasculate him then you're insulting everyone who fought for America in all the wars. And yes he gets to be a bit racist, but it's not like he's punching the black people so that's okay. Also Earl definitely needs to have a threesome with two chicks in the party scene because how else will we know he's straight and with fully-working plumbing? I mean apart from his family. And yes, the chicks have to kiss Earl on-camera before the door closes slowly. Yes, both of them… did you not hear the bit I just said about the war, Terry? PUT IT IN."

Maybe I'm just an old-fashioned sort who wants a protagonist they can like. Or if not like, at least gleefully will to self-destruction. And sure, those who lean to the right are entitled to their movie-heroes every bit as much as those on the other side of the fence, but narcotic distribution is something they traditionally get quite beetroot about, so it seems odd that the profession doesn't come in for at least some mild tutting here, and you really have to wonder where the moral baseline is. Can I really believe that the producer, director and star of this film is making it as a way to highlight the absolute hypocrisy of the main character?
As you've no doubt gathered by now, no. No, I can't.

BOSS THE PLANE THE PLANE

But even without my yoghurt-knitting politics coming between me and the screen, The Mule is just not that good a film. Focusing on nobody except the character who apparently cares about no one but himself, it has no message or wisdom to impart, which given the current socio-political climate seems like a shrugging of responsibility. But nor is it a rip-roaring ride of entertainment as we watch a light burn twice as brightly for half as long. No, an old man breaks the law repeatedly out of misguided boredom, he gets caught, he goes to prison. That's it. That's not a story, just a two-hour sequence of events.

Oh, and why would the cartels keep giving Earl a brand new smartphone for each trip if they're not going to use its inbuilt technology to track their multi-million dollar shipment, so that when the old man goes AWOL for a week they have literally no idea where he could be even though he was recruited to their business at his ex-wife's house so maybe start fucking looking there, especially since that's where he fucking is?

Clint, did you write this?

It's probably a bit Gran Torino (same screenwriter) but with no moral compass.



Not particularly.



If you like.



Absolutely not.



Absolutely yes.



There isn't.



Level 2: Bradley Cooper's in this and he was Rocket in Guardians Of The Galaxy along with Peter 'Maul' Serafinowicz, Benicio 'DJ' Del Toro, Spencer 'Vader' Wilding and Ralph 'Garmuth' Ineson.





*¹ Of course the initial thing that attracts the cartel rep's attention is that Earl is an old man steadily driving an old beat up truck. So what's the first thing he does the minute he gets paid after his first run? Yeah, he buys a gleaming new pickup which looks conspicuous-as-fuck no matter who's driving it. Game-face Earl, game-face… ^{[ BACK ]}


DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.

Review: American Sniper

American Sniper
Cert: 15 / 132 mins / Dir. Clint Eastwood / Trailer



Oh yeah, it's awards-season isn't it? The early months of each year when the studios proudly and loudly present their worthy, message-laden films, because judging panels have notoriously short memories (which is why all those end-of-year 'Best Of…' lists only consist of movies released from October onwards). Anyway, a lot must have happened between American Hustle and American Sniper, because Bradley Cooper's stopped playing cons, got all annoyed and joined the army…

Clint Eastwood helms the story of Christopher Kyle, "the most lethal sniper in U.S. history" (that's on the poster, remember), from his roots as a God-fearing Texas rodeo-rider to a fear-instilling Navy SEAL with a formidable track-record. And you might think that a film with a tagline as provocative as that might be more preoccupied with the achievement of the title than with the moral and psychological repercussions which also come bundled with the prize package. And you'd be right.

Bradley Cooper is on reliably solid form as Chris Kyle and gives a good thousand-yard-stare. Also trying her best (and frequently succeeding) is Sienna Miller as his States-bound wife, Taya. But the scenes between them are largely for nothing as Eastwood seems far more interested in directing the patriotism than he does the PTSD, and favours a short, minimalist approach to Kyle's more quiet, introspective moments; an approach which is noticeably flipped when it comes to scenes featuring people being shot in the face (the faces of combatants on both sides, to be fair).

For the most part American Sniper is certainly a compelling film, saved by its performances, but the final reel covering Kyle's counselling and rehabilitation is cut almost insultingly short (and certainly seems shorter than the 'explained-by-one-caption' real-life footage which plays behind the final credits). Never as mawkish or flag-waving as Lone Survivor, the film is nonetheless torn in the same way between wanting to assure audiences that revenge can be righteous, and just wanting to be a good old fashioned war film.

You'd better be on-side before you sit down to watch American Sniper, because the morals of war aren't up for debate. Eastwood is either going to confirm your beliefs or rub salt into the wounds of the 21st century…

Oh, and extra thanks go to the arthouse-frequenting couples on either side of me who seemed to think it's acceptable to have a conversation in an auditorium during a film (two separate conversations I mean, not one that ran across me). Even Friday night's multiplex, fidgeting, popcorn-rustlers were better behaved than that.



Not unless you know it's your thing before you go in.



Unless you know it's your thing, this is a renter.



Cooper and Miller are on fairly good form, Eastwood's direction is all over the place as usual.



I think it probably does.



Nope.



I didn't hear one, but the volume was turned to just short of white-noise level, so I wouldn't be surprised if there's one buried in there surreptitiously.



Bradley Cooper starred in 2010's The A-Team movie with Qui-Gon Jinn himself, Liam Neeson.








DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.

Review: Jersey Boys

Jersey Boys
Cert: 15 / 134 mins / Dir. Clint Eastwood




Other than seeing the trailer once, I hadn't looked too far in to Clint Eastwood's Jersey Boys as I didn't expect it to be on at our local. So it was with some surprise that the BBFC card revealed the Summer-release adaptation of a West End musical to be a 15 certificate. Ooh, I though, this might actually have a bit of heft to it. Sadly, that's not really the case. The 15 cert appears to be there due to the amount of effing-and-jeffing going on which, while it's hardly excessive, is clearly too much for the 12A bracket*¹.

And so, with the sole exception of an encore-medley where all of the cast are ammased on a single soundstage, what I'd expected to be a straightforward Musical™ actually plays more like a regular biopic of The Four Seasons. The film relies heavily on their music, of course, but all of the songs featured occur in the context of the story, in recording studios and theatre stages (ie, no-one suddenly bursts into song, in order to express their feelings). Because of this, the plot/playlist is far more linear, and hits such as Sherry feature because the group are writing them at that time, rather than there being someone called 'Sherry' shoehorned into the screenplay*².

The (half-arsedly implemented) conceit of the story is that the group speak directly to camera as individuals, breaking the fourth wall and giving their own perspective on pivotal moments in their careers. However these interjections, whilst very welcome, seem too sporadic to be a feature, and the at-the-time opinions of Frankie, Tommy, Bob and Nick rarely seem to differ too much (plus the fact that lead-singer Frankie speaks to camera just once in the entire film). But it's this technique in addition to a very gently painted depiction of turbulent private lives and loose connections to the mob, which give Jersey Boys a sort of Goodfellas-Lite feel.

But all in all, I found the film quite charming and entertaining. It didn't make me run out and buy tickets to the stage show, but I honestly don't think that's its intention. Perhaps not trying quite as hard as it could, Jersey Boys is still a solidly entertaining couple of hours in the popular music industry of years gone by.

Oh, and when the judge asks Frankie (who's clearly in his thirties) how old he is, and he replies "16", you may spit some of your drink out like I did. And the make-up in the final sequence is a bit 'Back To The Future 2' as well. But this is what happens when you try to cover 45 years with the same cast. It's no biggie, but it is noticeable.



It is.



Mostly.



No, but it's on the right path.



It's a DVD on a Sunday night.



No.



I will, but not for a while.



There ain't.






Okay, what is THIS, please?

How come not one person in the film points out that you can have "The Four Seasons", or "Frankie Valli and The THREE Seasons", but you can't have "Frankie Valli and the FOUR Seasons" as there's only four of them to begin with? Martha Reeves wasn't also one of The Vandellas, y'know. "The Ants" did not, as a collective, also automatically include Adam. It's not "Death and the Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse", is it?
For crying out loud...


*¹ Although I suspect the only people saying the f*ck-word throughout the 12A rated 'Walking on Sunshine' will be the audience.
*² Yes, Sunshine On Leith, I'm looking at you. "Oh, Jean", indeed. Twats.

DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.