Thursday, 25 January 2018

The Post (2017)

*This review discusses plot points which some may consider spoilers*

          Making a timely drama that makes comment on or even judges current events is a complex business. It can come across as too pointed, or simply lazy. The current White House administration seems to have attracted more ire than has been seen in decades. What can make a political picture more subtle is to use past events to highlight issues of the contemporary world. But this can also be criticised for being too afraid of directly tackling an issue, and attempting simply to skirt it. At the end of the day, you can’t please everyone. But the itself attempt will no doubt be admired.
          So when the most famous living filmmaker in the world, and seemingly still one of the hardest working, makes a pointed political statement with his latest big budget movie, it’s a big deal, and the world will listen. Steven Spielberg has said in interviews that he rushed into production on The Post after reading the script as he felt it was a story that needed to be told now. And when you are the most famous and most successful living director, you have the power to do that.
          The story in question is of the 1971 publishing of the famous Pentagon Papers, the confidential and classified analysis and account of America’s involvement in Vietnam from the 1940s through to the 1960s. They encompassed the presidencies of Harry Truman, Dwight Eisenhower, John Kennedy, and Lyndon Johnson. The New York Times begins publishing details from the papers, but an injunction is put in place by President Richard Nixon. Having gotten hold of a copy of the document, the Washington Post’s owner Katherine Graham (Meryl Streep) and editor in chief Ben Bradlee (Tom Hanks) must decide whether to risk legal action and even imprisonment in order to publish more revelations from the papers.
          That revelation from Spielberg that The Post was rushed through production is telling. The film feels incredibly fresh, and has an inherent urgency to it that is palpable. The film is full of swift sequences that seem to zip by purely because in the incendiary political times being portrayed, they have to. Characters race from location to location, information is thrust from one person to another, telephone calls are answered almost instantly. This is an energetically told, important story of journalistic integrity under attack from a ruthless Republican government. Timely is an understatement.
          However, that rushed production schedule also betrays other less than stellar issues. The film does not feel ‘lived in’ in its period reproduction. The gold standard of against the clock journalism films is still Alan J. Pakula’s All The President’s Men from 1976, set just a year after The Post’s time setting during the Watergate scandal. Perhaps because it was filmed in such close proximity to the events it was portraying, the film still feels astonishingly authentic, with a documentary feel throughout. The Post often feels like playing dress up. This could be seen as a subversive step to make the film feel even more pertinent to current events, but I suspect it is more likely just rough edges on a rushed production.
          Many of the supporting actors too, a who’s who of great character actors, also get short changed. This is very much a two hander between Streep and Hanks, who between them dominate the screen time. Both turn in expectedly solid, if generally unremarkable work. Bob Odenkirk comes out best of the supporting roles as assistant editor Ben Bagdikian. But Sarah Paulson, Matthew Rhys, Carrie Coon, and particularly the wonderful Michael Stuhlbarg, himself appearing for all of around two minutes of screen time, are all criminally under-utilised. This approach helps to sharpen the focus, but it makes the film feel less rounded, and far less richly textured.
          The satiric and subversive intimations are indeed admirable, but the story of a newspaper deciding whether or not just to publish revelations from the Pentagon Papers seems a less attractive story than that of the stealing and copying of the document in the first place from the Rand Corporation by Daniel Ellsberg. This would seem to lend itself far more to being filmed, with perhaps more at stake for a single man than for a national newspaper just gone public. Even so, the Washington Post angle at least means the film can get in some additionally timely material from Katherine Graham’s sense of attempting to run a successful newspaper in a powerfully male dominated world.
          In whatever manner the story is told, the Pentagon Papers release and publication was an important moment of rebellion against a government that had been misleading the world for decades. The Post is an admirable and captivatingly told version of those events, from a filmmaker who continues to be unpredictable, and endlessly exciting.

Sunday, 21 January 2018

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (2017)

*This review discusses plot points which some may consider spoilers*          

          As a first time viewer of any work by Irish writer director Martin McDonagh, it took some time for me to settle into the particular rhythm of his authorial style. Ostensibly a comedy drama, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (to give it its full charmingly loquacious title) is McDonagh’s third feature film, and the one that seems to have broken new ground for him critically and financially since its release in the US towards the end of 2017. It has been nominated for, and won, countless awards and is still gaining new ones. This means that as part of the standard later UK release, it brings with it a certain amount of expectation. It invariably meets those high expectations, in the end settling as a barbed, unique picture with a spectacular central performance from the great and far too rarely utilised in a leading role Frances McDormand.
          The film begins with Mildred Hayes (McDormand) happening past the three billboards of the title which sit on a disused road into the fictional town of Ebbing, disused since the highway was built diverting drivers from the road. This doesn’t stop an idea forming in Mildred’s mind to use the billboards to shame and coerce the Ebbing police force into progress in their investigation into the rape and murder of her daughter Angela, which took place seven months previously. After a visit to the advertising company that owns the billboards, the chosen messsages are erected, with particular venom aimed at the chief of police Bill Willoughy (Woody Harrelson). The town is divided over the billboards, and a battle of wills ensues between Mildred and the police.
          What could have been a rote back and forth between a backwards police force and a put upon underdog becomes something more pleasingly complex in McDonagh’s hands. This is no black and white portrayal, with Harrelson’s police chief particularly being painted in complex strokes. While other characters have nothing but disdain for Mildred and her antagonism, Chief Willoughby clearly has deep wells of respect for this woman, and the scenes and conversations between the two characters sparkle throughout. Kudos therefore to both McDormand and Harrelson, seasoned performers both and each at the top of their respective games.
          Frances McDormand can do nothing but be the absolute centre and star of the show. This is a role that absolutely plays to her particular strengths as a performer, harkening back to previous spiky characters in many Coen brothers movies, particularly The Man Who Wasn’t There (2001) and Burn After Reading (2008), as well as Wonder Boys (Curtis Hanson, 2000) and Moonrise Kingdom (Wes Anderson, 2012). The character name likewise brings to mind one of the great hardworking single mothers of cinema in Joan Crawford’s Mildred Pierce from Michael Curtiz’ film of the same from 1945, an example of what was billed at the time as a women’s picture. Three Billboards’ Mildred is not shorn of the rough edges, she is allowed to make questionable choices throughout the story, such as is in a late story development that sees her firebomb the police station as the culmination of the standoff between herself and Ebbing’s finest. She is a rounded, complex character, perfectly embodied by McDormand, clearly relishing the stream of barbs and insults that litter the character’s dialogue.
          The biggest character arc within the film is given to Sam Rockwell as Officer Jason Dixon. He goes through the most change and growth, beginning the film as a slow-witted, racist cop. His progression is prompted by the arrival of a black police chief (played by The Wire’s Clarke Peters) following the suicide of Harrelson’s cancer-struck Willoughby. While this development smacks of convenient and lazy plotting, it is muddied by the fact that the character’s road to redemption is tripped up when his solution to the investigation proves a dead end. This is one of the film’s biggest surprises, and clearly follows McDonagh’s particular way with a story. It all looks like its heading for a neat ending with the redeemed cop solving the mystery, when it turns out, its not. Life does not give you neat denouements, the killer isn’t always apprehended. The world can be a mess. The film is full of bold, interesting story routes, and is never less than throughly entertaining and interesting.
          Those three billboards, studded like vertebra in the ground both imposing and vast, form the backbone of the story, morally as well as visually. Scenes are consistently framed around them, characters constantly talk about them, and they are even visible from Mildred’s own front yard. They form an intoxicating image, lending extraordinary visual credence to a very dialogue driven film.