Let Him Go

Director: Thomas Bezucha
Starring: Diane Lane, Kevin Costner, Lesley Manville, Will Brittain, Jeffrey Donovan, Kayli Carter, Booboo Stewart, Ryan Bruce, Adam Stafford, Bradley Stryker
Running Time: 114 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

In the Western thriller Let Him Go, Kevin Costner proves again just how invaluable a screen presence he can be in any type of role, but especially when handed a part like this, which is so firmly entrenched in his wheelhouse that it conjures thoughts of his best work from the '90's and beyond. While the ads and commercials previewed a mix between a feature length version of Yellowstone and a low-key actioner for older moviegoers (not that either would be the worst thing in the world), writer/director Thomas Bezucha goes a step further in delivering an adult drama that has a little extra, as the suspense  continues to build right up until its closing scenes.

With two great performances grounding this, it's definitely more of a slow burn, but an immensely satisfying one that pays off, finding Costner operating in the same  mileu that's served as a backdrop for some of his more memorable outings. Aside from the baseball diamond or golf course, there seems to be no on screen setting for which his skills are better suited than this, even if he isn't really the story's protagonist. With his character reluctantly dragged into a difficult, potentially lethal predicament by his determined wife, played by Diane Lane, you could argue she's the plot's true driving engine. It's a different dichotomy, as well as an opportunity to see the reunited Man of Steel co-stars carry a picture together as leads for the first time, benefitting from both their talents being utilized to maximum effect.

It's 1961 and retired Montana sheriff George Blackledge (Costner) and his wife Margaret (Lane) are living with their son James (Ryan Bruce) and wife Lorna (Kayli Carter), along with their newborn grandson, Jimmy. But when James dies suddenly in a horse accident and Lorna goes on to marry Donnie Weboy (Will Brittain) a few years later, Margaret's worst instincts about this new husband are confirmed when she spots him physically abusing Lorna and little Jimmy. Soon after, all three have suddenly disappeared from town, prompting Margaret to confide in George about what she saw before  both set out to find them. 

Unfortunately, the situation emerges as far more dangerous than expected, as Lorna and their grandson are essentially being held captive by Donnie's psychotic mother Blanche (Lesley Manville) and the Weboy clan, including a slimy and unpredictable Uncle Bill (Jeffrey Donovan), who leads them to the house, and potentially a trap. After a disastrous meeeting and new friendship starting to form with a mysterious Native American man named Peter (Booboo Stewart) George and Margaret now must determine how to rescue Lorna and Jimmy from this violently dysfunctional family, and live to tell about it. 

The relationship between George and Margaret is everything this story's foundation is built upon, with new dimensions to these two characters as spouses, ex-in-laws, and grandparents being revealed as the conflict escalates. As each carry their own set of responsibilities and problems, the first act is kind of a feeling out in terms of which lines they feel are permissable for to cross given that the widow of their deceased son is making awful choices for their grandson. Besides this being delicate moral territory, it's also complicated from a legal standpoint considering they'll never have the rights their ex-daughter-in -law does as the boy's mother. For this and other reasons he'll soon be talked out of, George is initially hesitant to get involved, at least until Margaret forces his hand by doing it herself. 

George and Margaret aren't exactly ever on the same page but Bezucha's script still depicts a couple unmistakenly supportive of each other, even when in massive disagreement. She never backs down or wavers in the slightest, barely flinching when confronting this monstrous family face-to-face. It's intriguing how she leads the charge while George, a lawman, takes the more passive approach, remaining superficially cool and collected. If we didn't know better, the assumption could be that he's apathetic, afraid or weary of the potential consequences should they get involved. But that's hardly it. 

Costner's so good at depicting a man who's simply checked out following his son's death and has already thrown in the towel, frequently referencing his age. George even looks sad and tired, as Margaret seethes at his opinion that they sit this out. As good as Costner is, Lane might have the tougher job, maintaining for Margaret the facade necessary to execute a plan to save the boy and his mom. You can sense her wanting to just jump out of her skin at the thought that this sadistic family has gotten anywhere near their grandson.

More than a couple of scenes between the Blackledges and Weboys are so tension-filled they're almost difficult to watch. After a methodical build to the initial dinner confrontation, everything goes completely sideways, as Lesley Manville's ferocious performance takes center stage and the grandparents realize they'll be in for a fight that's more than just a war of words. The tide turns in an  entirely new, violent direction, as we anxiously wait for when George will go into full Costner-mode, getting his John Wayne on and attempting to take on this family by himself. In a third act that's far from a disappointment, and complete with an outcome heavily in doubt, the question becomes whether he can. 

Mileage may vary in terms of sympathy for Lorna given her poor decisions, but there's really no measure for the atrocity of the the family holding her, determined to take posession of her son, regardless of the cost. And as it turns out, the Weboys may even have more protection to do it than originally feared despite George's law connections. Supplemented by an elgiac Michael Giacchino score and some great photography from Guy Godfree, Bezucha also has a good eye for action, as in one spectacular sequence where a character meets their demise so conclusively that it actually appears as if the gates of hell have physically opened to swallow them whole.      

Let Him Go is very much a throwback that recalls Costner's role in Clint Eastwood's criminally underappreciated A Perfect World from 1993. Despite him playing characters who straddle opposite sides of the law in each, there's a lot of that film in this, at least in terms of theme and atmosphere, with both centering around the protection of a child. Here, a story that starts traditionally enough pivots into something a bit more sinister, with Bezucha and his actors juggling a lot of balls in the air on its way to the finish. And it's the handling of that transition that puts this a cut above others in a genre that's slowly disappearing. If the quality of this project isn't a good enough case for its continuation, then maybe nothing is.

The Dig

Director: Simon Stone
Starring: Carey Mulligan, Ralph Fiennes, Lily James, Johnny Flynn, Ben Chaplin, Ken Stott, Archie Barnes, Monica Dolan
Running Time: 112 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

While watching Simon Stone's biographical British drama The Dig, it's not hard at all to believe it's based on a true story. It tells us as much in the opening minutes, and even while creative liberties are  taken, there's something about the delivery that feels particularly authentic, regardless of names and dates. Some may view that as a turn-off, or sign they're going to endure a stuffy period piece lacking the momentum or excitement to grab their attention, but it's nearly impossible not to get caught up in the characters' enthusiasm. Because they care so much about the title adventure and we ultimately grow invested in what happens to them, it succeeds, harkening back to a time where mid-range adult dramas were a big draw simply due to quality alone. 

With pitch perfect performances, memorable cinematography from Mike Eley and a criminally overlooked Stefan Gregory score, it's almost as if this was released in the wrong era. Despite having been nominated for four BAFTA's, it's still hard to argue that if this came out in the mid to late 90's it would be screening next to The English Patient, Secrets and Lies or Waking Ned Devine at the local arthouse multiplex. And it would probably be among the five Best Picture nominees, while likely racking up additional acting nods for its cast. 

Being that it's instead 2021, a prestige film like this now just basically drops on Netflix with very little promotion. And that's not entirely a criticism considering it may not have otherwise seen the light of day at all given the current film climate. Nor is this some passionate defense of The Dig as an unheralded masterpiece because, on the whole, it's just fine. But boy is it ever just about the most comfortable thing you could hope to land on when scrolling through your queue. It's like wrapping yourself in a warm blanket for almost two hours, without worry the filmmaker will suddenly start making wrongheaded decisions or take the material to places it can't or shouldn't go. Given the circumstances, that's an achievement.

On the eve of World War II in 1939, Suffolk, England landowner Edith Pretty (Carey Mulligan) hires local excavator and archaeologist Basil Brown (Ralph Fiennes) to dig at the burial mounds at her estate in Sutton Hoo after both agree on a fair wage. With his former employers attempting to get him to abandon the project for work they've deemed more important, Brown and his assistants soon unearth the remnants of a ship, with him suggesting it could be the possible burial site of someone of high class or great nobility.

As Brown forms a fatherly bond with Edith's imaginative young son Robert (Archie Barnes) and her cousin Rory (Johnny Flynn) joins the dig, noted archaeologist Charles Phillips (Ken Stott) crashes the site, determined to wrestle control from Edith and Brown. Taking over with his own team, including a relatively inexperienced Peggy Pigott (Lily James), a major discovery is made, forcing Edith to make some important choices, even as her health rapidly begins to decline.

Managing to walk the the extemely thin line of delivering exactly what's expected while having just enough surprises up its sleeve, Moira Buffini's screenplay (adapted from John Preston's 2007 novel), stays tightly focused on this escavation's historical implications, as well as the personal ones for those directly involved. After an initial feeling out process between Edith and Brown, an early accident at the site ends up framing their friendship and motivations from that point forward. After that, she quickly realizes he's the right man for this job, regardless of the lack of respect he receives from his archaeological peers, mostly due to ignorance and jealousy. 

Having lost her husband and trying to raise a son while struggling with an undisclosed condition, Edith turns to Brown as kind of a surrogate companion. With him ignoring letters from his own wife, May (Monica Dolan) and spending nearly all of his time with Edith and young Robert, we start wondering where this relationship's going. But the movie's smarter than that. May couldn't be any more supportive of the bond he's formed with them, despite her feeling he's overworked. It's a nice reversal of expectations while also managing to be completely logical. And it's through Edith and Brown's shared discovery that we realize just how damaged she is, with this undertaking clearly giving her the only glimmer of hope and personal sense of purpose she's had in years. It feels right that this is as far as it will go for them, especially considering the film already has a romantic sub-plot that works exceptionally well.

Following her Oscar-nominated turn in Promising Young Woman, it could have been jarring to see Mulligan back doing the period pieces her against type role in that film proved to be a welcome respite from. But it instead only serves to further showcase her versatility in tackling a part that was originally intended for an older actress, more closely matching the fifty-something Edith Pretty was at the time. Fortunately, none of that matters in relation to the narrative and few could have played this as well as Mulligan does. Edith's no pushover, and even as the pressure mounts and the actress effectively conveys a marked physical deterioration in this woman's appearance and demeanor, her loyalty to son Robert and Brown perservere, partially stemming perhaps from regrets over an abandoned archaelogical career. 

Similarly, Fiennes scenes opposite Mulligan and the boy really resonate, with Brown charging forward despite being undermined at every turn by beaurocrats wanting a piece of his discovery. Ken Stott plays the film's biggest blowhard, Phillips, whose lack of knowledge is matched only by his elitist snobbery and frequently incorrect deductions about the project. Lily James appears about an hour in but quickly makes up for lost time as Peggy, dragged along by Phillips and husband Stuart (Ben Chaplin) only because her small stature won't disrupt the site. It's the first of many microagressions she endures from the men on the project, most notably her husband. While having a star at James' level show up so deep into the story is a curious decision, she conveys everything we need to know about this nervous,  bespectacled woman in only a matter of minutes. 

Trapped in a loveless marriage, it's clear where things are going for Peggy as she falls for Edith's cosuin Rory and must battle all these insecurities in the face of this epiphany that she needs to leave her controlling, apathetic husband. With Peggy's feelings slowly bubbling under the surface until finally breaking through. when that moment comes, it's surprising just how emotionally resonant it is, largely due to James' invaluable performance. Seemingly, out of nowhere, she becomes as essential to the film's success as Mulligan's or Fiennes, with the sub-plot also achieving its goal of stirring something in Mulligan's character as she comes to terms with her own mortality. In Peggy, Edith finds a younger counterpart she can mentor and perhaps encourage to take the risks she failed to, with Buffini's script presenting much of that as subtext since the two actresses don't share more than a couple of scenes together. Stone's direction compliments that with restraint, gliding along effortlessly in not telling us how to think or feel and just letting these actors take us there.

It's a relief to know it's possible for screen adaptations to make adjustments a true story that make sense and have those decisions actually enhance the source material. They unquestionably shifted details around, changed characters and added events, but all of these choices were good ones that made for a far better experience than a straight re-telling would. Of course, the irony is that some may still find this too dry, but for fans of these kinds of humanistic dramas, it hits all the right notes.      

That The Dig could be watched repeatedly becomes that much more of a compliment when you realize it doesn't do anything necessarily special that sets it apart from past releases of a similar ilk. But from start to finish, it's just an absorbing story, solidly made and intelligently told. Sometimes that's enough, as certain unremarkable qualities that would cause it to blend in with the pack ten or twenty years ago only serve to make it stand out that much more today.

The Amusement Park

 
Director: George A. Romero
Starring: Lincoln Maazel, Harry Albacker, Phyllis Casterwiler, Pete Chovan, Sally Erwin
Running Time: 52 min.
Rating: Unrated

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

When legendary horror director George A. Romero was commissioned by the Lutheran Society in 1973 to make an educational film on elder abuse, they ended up getting more than they bargained for with his surrealistic nightmare, The Amusement Park. Shelved due to its disturbing content and perceived failure at accomplishing the mission at hand, this intended PSA has long been discussed in cinematic circles as one of those great lost treasures that probably wouldn't ever see the light of day. Think Jerry Lewis' The Day The Clown Cried, minus the baggage. Now, almost fifty years later, the George A. Romero Foundation (a nonprofit founded by his widow, Suzanne Desrocher-Romero) has restored the film, and after being purchased by Yellow Veil Pictures, the rediscovered effort has premiered on the Shudder streaming service. And it's really something else. 

While criticisms could certainly be leveled that's it's almost too ambitious to effectively function as a traditional PSA, but not large enough in scope to qualify as the masterpiece many expected, it still comes dangerously close, making for a fascinating experiment that's just as socially relevant today as then. Containing many tenets that would inform the director's later work, it's easy to see how it was shelved, even if having the message delivered in this manner leaves a traumatizing imprint that wouldn't be possible without Romero's distinctive approach. Depressingly cruel and punishing at only 52 minutes, the abbreviated length works to its favor, even as the entire scenario and lead performance will probably have you too shaken to check the time.

Besides functioning as a invaluable period piece, it takes public perceptions of amusement and theme parks and turns them on its head, reminding us just how truly unpleasant a trip to a bad one can be for anyone, regardless of age. Existing somewhere between reality and metaphorical fantasy, this park's amongst the more hellish you'll see, particularly for a protagonist with whom everyone will eventually relate. That's ultimately the film's most powerful statement, as this seemingly innocuous outing rapidly disintegrates into a fable of mortality, with a man staring down the barrel of a culture's complete disregard for his existence. 

A painfully true testament to how society degrades then disposes of its elderly population, Romero really does pile it on here, but rarely without purpose. Far from straightforward "horror" in any conventional sense, it's still every bit as as terrifying, with images and sequences that linger in the mind long after the credits roll. It's just a shame that a film capable of making such an impact instead collected dust for almost half century for being both of and ahead of its time.  

Shot at the now-defunct West View Park in West View Pennsylvania and bookended by Twilight Zone-like narration from its lead actor, the film focuses on an elderly gentleman (Lincoln Maazel) in a white suit who bares more than a passing resemblance to Colonel Sanders. If only he were treated with as much reverence as that iconic restaurateur upon his entry into an amusement park that's populated by visitors of all ages, but has a harsh pecking order. It opens with him entering a mysterious door into a white, sterile room, and despite warnings from someone he really should listen to, he remains enthusiastic and undeterred about his upcoming excursion into the park. 

All that optimism quickly fades when the man's faced with what initially seems like merely dismissive treatment, before it escalates into far greater forms of discrimination with each passing stop. Wading his way through this claustrophobic, overcrowded atmosphere, he's constantly marginalized along with others his age and even harassed, beaten, and verbally abused by younger parkgoers unsympathetic to his plight. Bruised, battered and limping his way to what could be his final destination, this ordinary day out reveals itself to be a true living hell.

Strung together as a continuous series of vignettes, the unnamed elderly man is confronted by various forms of hostility, but he's hardly the only one, as many of these situations break the barriers of ageism and enter territories of racism and classism as well. While the man's immediately segregated with his contemporaries, it's actually quite startling how many elderly citizens are in this park and that the amount of business they bring do little to temper how badly they're treated. 

What's even sadder is that a lot of these people aren't even THAT old. When one of the characters reveal they're in their sixties it's kind of a shock, mainly because these patrons (who, with the exception of Maazel, aren't professionally trained actors) all look much older than they likely are. It's yet another reminder of how much and little has changed since 1973, as advances in medicine and self-care have enabled us to look younger for longer, but caused the age at which one is considered "old" to drop precipitously. You could actually imagine a modern-day remake where a 35 year-old is kicked and dragged out the park for their advanced age as if it were a bizarro version of Logan's Run. 

These observations may carry false pretenses that this is an actual amusement park and what we see is to be taken literally rather than some nightmarish hallucination taking place within the man's mind. If it's not, the film still works as an all-encompassing metaphor, as many of its memorable sequences sharply illustrate. At a makeshift restaurant, he's given humiliatingly shoddy service while a wealthy, well-dressed cigar-smoking customer is waited on hand and foot by the staff. A policeman arrives to settle a bumper car fender bender and shames an elderly couple. And Romero even manages to deliver a scathing commentary on the health care system and nursing home facilities as the protagonist attempts to escape what looks to be an unfortunate inevitability. 

In what may be its most ambitious sequence, a fortune teller gives a young hippie couple glimpses into a future that looks mighty bleak, if not far scarier than the old man's. The flashforward is a chilling distillation of Romero's intentions, as well as the perfect encapsulation of the film's cruelest twist; that the tormentors don't have much further to go before they find themselves on the receiving end of the ignorance they've willingly participated in.

As the anonymous elderly gentleman is circled like vultures by a biker gang and even literally has a book closed on him during his sole moment of human acceptance, it's clear we're witnessing the passage of time right before our eyes. Though this was filmed only a few years later, it's hard not to be reminded of my favorite pictures of the era, Frank Perry's The Swimmer, when considering the trajectory Romero puts this character on. While that dealt with aging, the passing of time and human cruelty by way of a journey through the neighborhood's pools by its far more flawed and unsympathetic lead, this substitutes an amusement park as a setting for events that could be borne from reality, hallucinations or possibly death. 

Like that film, there's also a mental and physical deterioration that occurs with each new interaction, as if the man's entire lifespan has been compressed into a single day. By its end, he's a shell of himself, heading back to the white waiting room from which he came to repeat the process again, and like so many in the park, failing either out of fear or denial, to heed the advice of those who came before. It may be the irony of all ironies that actor Lincoln Maazel (who would appear again in Romero's 1978 thriller, Martin) ended up passing away in 2009 at the age of 106, having still not lived long enough to see his shattering performance exposed to the masses and given the credit it deserves. 

The film's satirically sarcastic tagline, "I'll see you in the park, someday." couldn't be more fitting in reflecting the obliviousness of the movie's antagonists, behaving without a care in the world that their time is coming. Less a brutal critique of ageism than a damning indictment of the lack of basic human decency, Romero never shied away from calling out the shallowness of American materialism, as he'd later demonstrate in Dawn of the Dead. But there's something almost entirely darker and sadder going on here in watching this defeated, ostracized man entirely shut out by those who can only hope they're someday granted the grace and compassion they fail to offer him. It's a true to life terror resonating more now than perhaps it ever could back then. And in that sense, Romero didn't have any idea just how right he'd eventually be.       

Unhinged

Director: Derrick Borte
Starring: Russell Crowe, Caren Pistorius, Gabriel Bateman, Jimmi Simpson, Austin P. McKenzie, Juliene Joyner
Running Time: 93 min.
Rating: R 

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

If there's anything to be said about the very accurately titled road rage thriller Unhinged it's that you get exactly what's advertised. Approaching the film with hopes of gaining deep insight into the sociological implications of stress on the human psyche or underlying causes of vehicular assault in America would be a mistake. This is a B-level potboiler. Plain and simple. And when viewed through that lens, director Derrick Borte delivers a tight, suspenseful 90 minutes that doesn't reach too far or try to be something it isn't. Aiming higher would assuredly result in less, even as the story's basic premise calls to mind superior efforts like Steven Spielberg's Duel or Joel Schumacher's Falling Down. In terms of quality and content, it shares little with either, as much of the action doesn't take place on the road and it's not all that interested in providing social commentary or exploring the antagonist's state of mind. But in this case it's fine since that just isn't what we're here for. 

The events that occur may be wildly implausible, but they're not exactly silly. Okay, maybe they are, but it's good enough for viewers to resist mocking the entire scenario and at least respect that the movie never breaks from its reckless abandon to wink at us. Borte really plays it straight, relishing in this lack of humor as he escalates the violence to uncomfortable levels. On its surface, the plot's absurd, tracking a stone cold killer on his rampage to teach an unlucky mororist what a "bad day" really feels like. He also might also have the best luck of any murderer since Ted Bundy at evading law enforcement, disposing of victims left and right in broad, busy daylight while driving his easily identifiable vehicle through a crowded city. And yet, this somehow works, mainly because of Russell Crowe, who we just don't see in sadistic, villainous roles like this nearly enough. 

Mentally disturbed and existing on the fringes of life, Tom Cooper (Crowe) is in a precarious state. Laid off from his job and going through a divorce within the past year, he's about ready to snap. And he does, breaking into the home of his ex-wife and beating her boyfriend with a hammer before setting the residence ablaze, driving away into the night as it explodes. Meanwhile, newly divorced single mother Rachel Flynn (Caren Pistorius) has been struggling through some personal problems herself, battling her ex-husband over money while trying to take care of their teen son Kyle (Gabriel Bateman). Already under immense pressure and seeking advice from friend and divorce lawyer, Andy (Jimmi Simpson), she's dropping Kyle off at school and running late to work when she honks at a pickup truck stopped at a green light. 

The truck's driver is Tom, who catches up to Rachel, rolling down the window and demanding an apology for honking him, insisting he deserved a "courtesy tap" first. She refuses, leading to a tense exchange and him following her on the road and into a gas station, where she realizes he's just not going to let this go. So begins his murderous rampage, threatening everyone near and close to Rachel while collecting additional victims along the way. With cops on his trail, he has Rachel in his crosshairs, and she'll have to use all her strength and resourcefulness to escape him.     

Unlike Michael Douglas' D-Fens character in Falling Down, Tom starts the film as a complete psychopath and descends from there. Whatever events or circumstances led to his violent, agressive actions were well underway before he was introduced on screen so any hopes of humanizing the guy are pretty much dashed in the opening scene when he commits the first atrocious crime. The film proudly announces what it will be right off the bat and doesn't waver throughout, even while being careful enough not to go too far into the weeds regarding his mental stability, or lack thereof. 

While they show Tom popping prescription meds and he's referred to as "ill" in both the descriptions for the picture and in passing dialogue, you have to wonder the reasoning behind that disclosure. Since mental health is a sensitive topic, you'd figure the last thing filmmakers would want to imply is that just anyone with these issues could do this. What's likelier is that this is screenwriter Carl Ellsworth's sole attempt at giving the character some degree of nuance despite it not being particularly necessary. Regardless, his horrific actions speak loudest, as an almost unrecognizably heavier Crowe adopts a menacing southern drawl while pausing to fiercely lecture his intended victims about the unfair hand he's been dealt. 

Alternating between intensely calm soliloquies and explosive fits of rage, Crowe's best scene comes in a diner opposite the great Jimmi Simpson as Rachel's attorney. With Tom having already absconded with her cell phone and fully manipulating his way into her circle of friends and family, Simpson's lawyer knowing something's off with this guy, but not enough to call him out. Crowe perfects Tom's deflections and lies to a hilt so by the time Simpson's character realizes the extent of what's happened, it's too late.

It would be easy to pick every piece of this apart, especially the incredibly slow police response when it comes to tracking a pyromanical vehicular killer so visible that the "hiding" part of hiding in plain sight barely seems applicable. Then again, had the script involved too much law enforcement, it could easily lead to a Saw-like scenario where we're watching a crime procedural instead of the thriller it should be. So it's probably the right call keeping Crowe front and center, even if the audience has to kind of check their brain at the door regarding how far this goes.  

If Crowe steamrolling through everyone seems on brand for the film, its most believable aspect is South African actress Caren Pistorius' performance as Rachel, naturally and credibly reacting to this trauma as you'd envision a normal, overly stressed single mother would, conveying a fear and panic that lends even more tension to the proceedings. Doing far more than merely holding her own, Pistorius wrings genuine pathos out of the situation's most ludicrous developments, desperately conveying the conflicted fight or flight response you'd associate with someone experiencing this. 

Allowing a suspension of disbelief that may not have been possible with a more recognizable name in the role, casting the right protagonist opposite Crowe only enhances everything he does, making sure all the heat stays on him. And he brings plenty of it, taking us on a wild ride where we're fully invested in seeing this guy really get his in the end. When that moment comes, it's surprisingly cathartic, and maybe the surest sign that everyone involved with Unhinged fully understood the assignment. By knowing what had to be accomplished and achieving it, the film clears a low bar, executing an admittedly familar formula in skillful, exciting ways.