Juror #2

Director: Clint Eastwood
Starring: Nicholas Hoult, Toni Collette, J.K. Simmons, Chris Messina, Gabriel Basso, Zoey Deutch, Cedric Yarbrough, Leslie Bibb, Keifer Sutherland, Amy Aquino, Adrienne C. Moore, Francesca Eastwood
Running Time: 114 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

In the tradition of 90's potboilers like A Time to Kill, The Firm or even Clint Eastwood's own Absolute Power, the director's Juror #2 is a gripping legal thriller that foregoes histrionics to instead examine the consciences of its characters. Quieter and more subtle than expected, there's a welcome lack of flash to how Eastwood efficiently makes his point about how the legal system can fail even those with noble intentions. There are grey areas here as everyone involved attempts to do the right thing, no matter how skewed the scales seem.

Jurors with different backgrounds, personalities and biases forced to reach a consensus can often make for compelling human drama, but when one's harboring a major secret, those stakes are raised. It's a relatively simple premise, but the performances and execution go a long way, reminding us how good Eastwood is when interpreting material as solid as what screenwriter Jonathan Abrams provides. Logical and engaging, this reimagines Twelve Angry Men through a different lens, with the clever twist of a lone holdout being directly involved in the case he's selected to serve on.

Savannah based journalist and recovering alcoholic Justin Kemp (Nicholas Hoult) is called for jury duty in a murder trial just as his pregnant wife Ally (Zoey Deutch) is about to give birth after having previously miscarried. When an attempt to be dismissed fails, he joins eleven other jurors in hearing the case of James Sythe (Gabriel Basso), who's accused of murdering his girlfriend Kendall Carter (Francesca Eastwood) last year after the couple's heated argument at a local bar. 

Prosecutor Faith Killebrew (Toni Collette) anticipates an easy conviction, potentially bolstering her popularity as she runs for district attorney. The opposing counsel is overworked public defender Eric Resnik (Chris Messina), who maintains his client's innocence despite struggling to overcome a mountain of circumstantial evidence and key witnesses. But when Justin realizes he was at the scene and possesses crucial information that could clear Sythe's name, he panics. At the advice of his AA sponsor, defense attorney Larry (Keifer Sutherland), Justin keeps his mouth shut, instead attempting to plant reasonable doubt in these jurors' minds without incriminating himself.

The script covers itself well in explaining how Justin not only slipped through the cracks onto this jury, but isn't aware of his possible role in the crime until the trial's underway. In certain respects, he couldn't be safer since the police already have their man, but knowing the truth, he drowns in guilt as opinionated jurors' theories place him in increasing jeopardy during deliberations. And while Justin's an amiable guy who'd rather be by his wife's side, he still has personal demons he's working to put behind him.

Through Eastwood's use of strategically placed flashbacks, more alarming details concerning where Justin went and what he did that night after leaving the bar are revealed. As small bits of visual information unspool pieces at a time, the fuller picture emerges about why he's so torn about coming forward. Weighing the ramifications of convicting of an innocent man or telling a truth that could  destroy his life, Hoult subtly conveys his character's heavy burden as a trembling Justin nervously tries to nudge these stubborn jurors.

Most of the jury deem Sythe guilty before they've entered the room, such as an irritated Marcus (Cedric Yarbrough), who has an ax to grind that has more to do with his own experiences than the defendant's actual guilt or innocence. Making matters worse, he's incredibly suspicious of James, who's fighting an uphill battle in convincing this group to consider alternate possibilities. That is until retired homicide detective Harold Chicowski senses there could be a whole lot more to this case.  

Expertly played by the great J.K. Simmons, Chicowski's been around the block, his investigative skills proving to be both a blessing and curse for James. One of the more compelling ideas he introduces is that of confirmation bias, with police working backwards to finger an obvious suspect before collecting evidence that affirms it. For them, it's all about the optics of getting that conviction, just so long as their suspect fits the profile. It's something prosecutor Killebrew knows all too well, having presumably leveraged it to her benefit many times before.   

Killebrew's rivalry with Resnick is one of the more realistically rewarding details in the script, bucking the usual trend for this genre. Far from being at each others throats, they're friends, colleagues and former classmates who may be on opposite sides, but can still joke and commiserate over drinks. This shared respect becomes increasingly important when Killebrew starts having her own doubts about Sythe's guilt. Unsurprisingly, a superb Toni Collette brings additional layers of complexity to this woman as she grows suspicious of Hoult's tormented protagonist. The result is a tense, intelligently written showdown between two decent people that Eastwood stages with nuance and restraint. 

As a potentially innocent man's freedom hangs in the balance, the title character can't be sure whether he's actually responsible. And neither can we, until the realization hits that Juror #2 isn't about that, even if we're given more than enough information to put those pieces together. In the eyes of the law, all that ever matters is the verdict, which sometimes exists in an entirely separate universe as our preconceived notions of justice.                                 

Richard Jewell

Director: Clint Eastwood
Starring: Paul Walter Hauser, Sam Rockwell, Kathy Bates, Jon Hamm, Olivia Wilde
Running Time: 129 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

Early in Clint Eastwood's Richard Jewell, we're introduced to a man who behaves with absolute purpose and certainty. Someone so sure of what he's doing that nothing could possibly get in the way. Despite being mocked for his weight, called a "rent-a-cop," and generally laughed at and disrespected by everyone with whom he comes in contact, he just plows forward like it doesn't bother him at all. Of course, we later find out it very much hurts him, as it would anyone, but his loyalty to upholding the law takes precedence. In other words, Richard Jewell saved many lives in Atlanta's Centennial Park at the 1996 Olympics by doing what's he's always done: pay attention.

Despite the fact Jewell was railroaded and vilified by both law enforcement and the media to no end, there will be those accusing Eastwood of pedaling a right-wing agenda with his heroic depiction of this protagonist. And that's mainly because he fits the profile of an eccentric white male loner, as much now as even then. But if viewing the film through a political lens is eerily reminiscent of assumptions made about Jewell at the time, here's something scarier: Everyone still thinks he's the Olympic Park bomber. To this day. Well over a decade past his death. That fact alone should grant Eastwood as much creative freedom as he wishes.

Legally exonerated, but never acquitted in the public's eyes, Jewell's somehow taken this crime to his grave as its perceived perpetrator. There's a reason this movie isn't called Eric Rudolph. That eventually revealed bomber wasn't an exciting enough suspect for the media, nor was he an easy layup for the FBI. But disregarding the physical impossibility of Jewell having committed the crime and producing no forensic evidence linking him, they pushed forward anyway. So while the media and law enforcement get some rough treatment from Eastwood, it definitely isn't unwarranted. It's the director's best film in ages, but also a brilliantly told story made all the more remarkable for happening, its effects still rippling through our culture to this day.

It's summer 1996 when 33 year-old aspiring law enforcement officer, Richard Jewell (Hauser) moves in with his mother, Bobi (Kathy Bates) in Atlanta after a decade of bouncing around in various jobs such as a law office supply clerk and campus security guard. Given the chance to work security detail at Centennial Park on the eve of the Olympics, Jewell signs on, figuring that at least his mom will get a front-row seat to see her favorite singer, Kenny Rogers. Despite feeling ill the night of July 27th, Jewell reports for duty, and while chasing off some drunk teens, discovers a suspicious-looking backpack under a bench he suggests be investigated. After initially dismissing his serious concerns as nonsense, an explosives expert confirms the presence of a bomb before it detonates, injuring many and killing one.

By finding the device and helping to clear the area, Jewell is understandably celebrated by the media, his face plastered on every news program and a book deal being fast tracked. But when FBI agent Tom Shaw (Jon Hamm) suspects Jewell as the possible bomber with a "hero complex," his leaking of that info to fiesty Atlanta Journal Constitution reporter, Kathy Scruggs (Olivia Wilde) causes the security guard's life to unravel. With the FBI attempting to manipulate Jewell into confessing, he turns to an old friend to represent him, lawyer Watson Bryant (Sam Rockwell), the only person at his old supply clerk job who treated him, as Richard calls it, like a "human being". Both have their work cut out for them, as Jewell's name is dragged through the mud, devastating his mother, who still couldn't be prouder of her only son.

Adapted from Marie Brenner's 1997 Vanity Fair article,"American Nightmare: The Ballad of Richard Jewell," (a far better title by the way) Eastwood and screenwriter Billy Ray do a masterful job making a very clear distinction. This may be a simple man, but he's not simple-minded, as demonstrated in his ability to spot a threat that law enforcement officials with far more experience couldn't. And that might be the story of this guy's life, as he's constantly been overlooked and underestimated due to his appearance, weight, eccentric demeanor or the fact he lives with his mother. But for Hamm's rigid agent Shaw, those traits read as the criminal profile for a serial bomber.

Similar to the feeling of certainty Jewell exhibited in his investigation of the mysterious bag that night, Shaw's equally sure he found his man. But it's different, driven by a preconceived hypothesis about Richard that he's desperate to prove correct. It's a fascinating study in how people are falsely accused of crimes, with Shaw arranging and rearranging details in the investigation so it fits, as if he's trying to convince himself. While as confident he's doing the right thing as Jewell was, the key difference is that he's dead wrong.

Paul Walter Hauser was the ideal selection to play Richard Jewell and one of those rare, magical choices for a reality-based role that make the best case possible for why Oscars should be given out for casting as well as performances. Despite recent high-profile work as Harding bodyguard Shawn Eckhardt in I, Tonya and adult recruit "Stingray in YouTube's Cobra Kai, there's still an anonymity associated with him you just wouldn't get with any supposedly bigger name. And because Jewell's story revolves so much around us discovering this regular guy unwillingly shoved into the spotlight, anyone else would have seemed like a distraction. Aside from a considerable physical resemblance, Hauser completely disappears into Jewell as if the infamous security guard's been exhumed from a 1996 newscast. But the brilliance in his work comes when Richard calls upon the same strength he exhibited in the park scenes to hold himself (and his mom) together as public humiliation begins chipping away at his loyalty to the justice system.

Much of the action takes place in only two locations, with Eastwood first transporting us into the mileu of Centennial Park that night in July, with all the excitement and nervous energy surrounding the city on the cusp of the XXVI Olympic Games. We trail Jewell throughout, leading right up to and including the tragic event, witnessing his warnings of danger falling on deaf ears until action's eventually taken. And you could just as easily imagine brushing this guy off given that he's playing a hunch (albeit one based on knowledge and experience) that happens to end up being correct.

The rest of the action essentially takes place in his mom Bobi's apartment, which becomes Richard's own personal prison, as the pitchfork-wielding media descend upon their residence. As attorney Watson Bryant, Sam Rockwell reliably provides whatever comic relief exists in this re-telling, while also making you empathize with his blunt, straightforward character's exasperation with Jewell as a client. The honest, transparent qualities he admires in his friend are exactly what make him so difficult to represent, opening his mouth at the most incriminating times to state personal details better left unsaid. Soon, his job becomes to just simply shut Richard up before he serves himself up to the FBI on a platter.

For as much pain as Richard endures, it's his mother Bobi who seems to suffer most, earning her eventual designation by Watson as the 113th victim of the Olympic Park bombing. There are so many great, little details in Kathy Bates' performance as this proud mother whose entire reality is upended over two days. There was hardly enough time to process her son becoming a hero known around the world, fulfilling every dream she had for him in law enforcement, before he's scapegoated by the media and FBI as their lead suspect.

There's this indelible moment when Bobi's watching Tom Brokaw report on the story and asks why HE'S saying these terrible things about her son. And she means that literally, expressed with the utmost sincerity and confusion. It's as if Brokaw saying it has just made things more painfully real for her. And with just that short line, Bates conveys that Bobi is very much her son's mother, trusting and holding dear those who earn her respect and loyalty. Even if it's a TV personality. In many ways it represents the ultimate betrayal, as if this case has now officially infiltrated everything in their lives, including the trusted Tom Brokaw. If he's turning against Richard, the situation must truly be hopeless.

The Atlanta Journal Constitution's Kathy Scruggs was a real person and apparently well-respected journalist who's depicted here as sleeping with FBI agent Shaw in exchange for the info that Richard Jewell is their prime suspect. Hamm's Shaw is supposedly a composite of numerous federal agents working on the case so his character's let off the hook, while Scruggs, who passed away in 2001, is a little different in that she's an actual reporter referred to by name and shown having traded sex for tips on a story. Or did she? Whether this was some kind of exchange or they were in a relationship could have been easily distinguished by giving her more screen time that further fleshed out the character. Instead, we get a snapshot that doesn't provide a clear indication either way. And since she doesn't really warrant an expanded role in the context of the story Eastwood'strying to tell about the media, the better answer was probably just not using her name at all. It makes very little creative difference, but it sure did garner a great film the wrong kind of publicity, which is cruelly ironic in itself.

 Eastwood clearly cares very little about sugar-coating anything, and like Jewell himself, will forge ahead and do what he wants, regardless of whatever the current cultural climate dictates he should. It's hard not to respect that when the results are this good, while still recognizing why Scrugg's family would have a big problem with it. For what it's worth, Wilde plays Kathy well enough, which in this case means that she's a nasty, brash reporter who will do anything for a lead. And yet for all the controversy surrounding this real-life reporter's somewhat monstrous depiction, she went with a story from a valid source that she had every reason to believe was true, regardless of her methods in obtaining it. Eastwood never holds her to the same standard as an FBI agent who leaks classified information related to a bombing.

Jewell's only crime was misplaced faith, perhaps guilty of being too trusting, naive and compliant. In the film's most gut-wrenching scene, we find out that his biggest fear actually wasn't what would become of him, or even his mother, but those in law enforcement who could eventually find themselves in a position similar to his on that night. And because of this debacle, opt to say and do nothing. Then 9/11 happened. As it turns out, Richard Jewell may have been on the right side of history all along, patiently waiting for the rest of us to catch up with him.

Sully

  

Director: Clint Eastwood
Starring: Tom Hanks, Aaron Eckhart, Laura Linney, Anna Gunn, Autumn Reeser, Mike O' Malley, Jamey Sheridan, Sam Huntington, Katie Couric, Mike Rapaport
Rating: PG-13
Running Time: 96 min.

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

There are some noticeable hurdles in the way of cinematically adapting the real life story of Chelsey "Sully" Sullenberger, who on January 15, 2009, successfully pulled off an emergency landing of US Airways Flight 1549 on the Hudson River, in which all 155 passengers and crew survived. For one, the admittedly remarkable event itself lasted all of about ten minutes, and while many lives were most definitely in jeopardy, this story has as clear cut and happy an ending as it gets. There's also no antagonist to speak of, and as much as the media rightfully built Sully up as a hero, he's a low-key, introverted guy you wouldn't expect translating to the big screen as a charismatic action savior capable of carrying a movie.

You have to wonder how director Clint Eastwood does it, essentially stretching a human interest story that captivated the public for a couple of weeks into an over 90-minute feature film. Besides being oddly matched for the material, you'd think there wouldn't be enough there for him to dramatically sink his teeth into. And yet it's fun watching all the ways that he tries and just how successful he is at dodging so many of those potential roadblocks.

Sully's still somewhat slight and fairly predictable, but when it ended I was convinced we got as strong a film as we possibly could considering the subject at hand. Initially, Eastwood wisely shifts the focus away from nuts and bolts of the situation in favor of making this about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's a curious choice, as is his decision to very broadly depict a "bad guys" in a story in which we were sure none existed. How accurate this all is will be up for debate as Eastwood goes pretty far in pumping up the conflict with what seems like an over-the-top investigation considering the circumstances. What we do know is how much our perception is wrapped up in the fact that a dialed down Tom Hanks is playing the title role, internally unraveling with each new development. Unsurprisingly, he holds this all together, turning the actual subject's limitations as an intriguing movie character into strengths audiences can rally behind.

The film opens not with that flight, but its aftermath, as Captain Sullenberger (Hanks) must face a barrage of mostly positive media attention about his split second decision to make an emergency water landing after a flock of birds disabled both engines, making any kind of runway approach impossible. Unfortunately, the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) doesn't see it that way and are determined to follow through on their investigation into whether Sully, along with co-pilot Jeff Skiles (Aaron Eckhart), made the right call under what could best be called extremely unusual circumstances. When doubt arises regarding the condition of the engines and their possibility of making it to one of the two airports, Sully starts mentally unraveling, as most would under the intense microscope of this investigation.

Between abbreviated, but emotional late night phone calls with his wife Lorraine (Laura Linney) and panic over the impending hearing and frequent TV appearances, Sully not only starts to doubt himself, but his abilities as a pilot. And he suffers silently through all this while still maintaining a calm, stoic facade for the public, who now claim him as their hero. It's a role he's entirely uncomfortable with both as a person and as a pilot with 40 years of experience who feels on that day, like any other, he was doing his job. Now clearly at his breaking point, he wants nothing more than to just quietly go back to it.

It's to Eastwood and screenwriter Todd Komarnicki's credit that the script (adapted from Sully's autobiography, Highest Duty)  is filled with tiny details we didn't know or simply weren't privy to. That there's actually a co-pilot for one. Throughout all the media coverage of the incident, it's tough to recall his name even being mentioned, but here Skiles is played really well by Aaron Eckhart and his relationship to Sully is defined entirely through this ordeal. They're not exactly friends, but what begins as a cordial, if somewhat prickly professional rapport between co-workers, evolves into strong bond following the incident and ensuing investigation. If anything, it's Sully who must lean on his more charismatic co-pilot as the newly anointed celebrity psychologically struggles under the bright lights during interviews with Katie Couric and David Letterman.

Presenting most of the events out of chronological order is kind of a neat angle Eastwood takes in that it more easily allows him to put the focus where it needs to be while distracting audiences who think they know the whole story.  Interspersing brief flashbacks of Sully's history as a pilot, we're eventually led into the day of take-off, which is by far the most suspenseful, excitingly directed portion of the film and the section fewest will have any complaints about. We get to know some of the passengers, who within minutes must face what seemed at the time to be certain death, while Sully makes that split-second decision in the cockpit that saves their lives. But more intriguing than that is the protocol following the water landing and how the passengers were somehow safely evacuated in the midst of utter chaos. Besides miraculously landing the plane, Sully also played a key role in that, more concerned with the well-being of the passengers than his own safety or the avalanche of criticism coming his way.

The most problematic aspect is the depiction of this NTSB inquiry, and while we'll never know the true extent of its depth, it's clearly beefed up for effect in the script, which is fine. Still, it can't help but feel manufactured when you consider the fact that the media would absolutely eviscerate this NTSB board if they even came close to going after Sully like they do here. That's especially true when you consider the film's implication that his job, marriage and home were in serious jeopardy due to the potential findings. Stopping just short of depicting them as mustache-twirling villains, this committee of basically two (played by Anna Gunn and Mike O' Malley) are there to question every decision Sully made in flight while completely removing the human element from the equation.

Of course, this culminates in a hearing that plays out very "Hollywood," during which the embattled pilot must defend himself against one-sided allegations, enabling the doubters to see the incident from various perspectives before realizing what we've known all along: He did the right thing. No big revelation there. But Eastwood holds our attention anyway, thanks mostly to the performances of the actors and the gripping recreation of events that preceded it. 

The film just kind of stops as opposed to conclusively ending, but thankfully most of that hearing, as over-the-top as it is, is a clever device in circumventing a story that didn't exactly need retelling. Was Tom Hanks the right actor for the role? There are no "right" choices for the role, just different ones, and the selection of Hanks suggests a specific vision for the material that Eastwood mostly follows through on. Sully, the real person and character, is a likable "everyman" so the casting is a no-brainer in that sense, even if it isn't necessarily an inspired, outside the box choice. Hanks wisely avoids playing him as "Mr. Nice Guy," as he's internally tormented and wrestling with his conscience through much of this.

While there wasn't a lot to work with here, Eastwood still manages to milk everything he can from it. And it's at least a lot tidier and more straightforward than his Oscar-nominated American Sniper, which received significantly greater praise despite a myriad of issues. Sully doesn't have those problems, and even if it doesn't exactly linger in the mind long after the final credits have rolled, Eastwood and Hanks prove they're capable of engaging us with a story few thought could successfully be transferred to the big screen.
 

American Sniper

Director: Clint Eastwood
Starring: Bradley Cooper, Sienna Miller, Max Charles, Luke Grimes, Kyle Gallner, Sam Jaeger, Jake McDorman, Eric Close
Running Time: 132 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

The one thing Clint Eastwood's American Sniper can't be accused of is failing to live up to its title, which of course comes from the 2012 memoir by Chris Kyle, the most decorated and lethal sniper in U.S. Military history. Regardless of how much it bends facts or the public's reaction, it does feel very true to the legendary figure the film was intended to eulogize. Controversy has only entered the equation when discussing the heroics of his actions, a debate that's entirely political and has little to do with what unfolds on screen. Let's just get it out of the way now: Kyle was a hero who courageously served this country and that wouldn't have changed whether this movie was made or not. The argument that Eastwood should have presented a more even-handed portrayal of the man or the side he fought against is barking up the wrong tree as far as the film's problems are concerned.

Had Eastwood actually released a flag-waving, right-wing propaganda piece I'm not sure I'd have much of a problem with it considering how infrequently that stance is represented in Hollywood. But he mostly plays it down the middle. If pushed, it's fair to say this leans slightly pro-war, but more accurately this is a military procedural doubling as a character study. Unfortunately, it's far less successful at the latter and the former is very much something we've seen before. It's well executed, even if I'll admit to being a bit perplexed as to how it's raked in gazillions at the box office and scored a Best Picture nomination. This raises the question as to whether it's possible to appreciate and even admire what Kyle did, while not being completely sold on the idea of stepping into what sometimes feel like a first person shooter video game. It's kind of an exhausting watch in ways both good and bad, but the central performance and Eastwood's direction, his tightest in years, manage to win out.

The film depicts each of U.S. Navy SEAL sniper Chris Kyle's (Bradley Cooper) four tours of duty in Iraq, starting with his first deployment following the September 11th attacks in 2001.With each subsequent tour, Kyle's legendary reputation grows, accumulating an impressively lengthy kill list and saving countless American lives. It's only when he returns home in between tours that the cracks start to show, as his traumatic memories and experiences in Iraq haunt his daily life, tearing apart his marriage to wife Taya (Sienna Miller), who believes he should be focusing more on their new son and daughter.

With each trip home Kyle finds it increasingly difficult to adjust to a civilian lifestyle, frequently disoriented and distant as he continues to emotionally drift away. It's a stark contrast to the cool, collected sniper with pinpoint accuracy whose persistent nemesis, Mustafa, a dangerous insurgent sniper, proves to be his biggest obstacle throughout the four tours. He keeps going back, but it's when he permanently returns to his family that he faces his biggest challenge, removed from the only environment in which he truly feels most comfortable. For Kyle, becoming an emotionally engaged and present husband and father is a learning process, as is overcoming the PTSD that's taken over his life.

This is primarily about a man who was born to do what he did, and did it with a calculated diligence few could likely comprehend. While it may seem crass to describe Kyle as being "hard-wired" to kill there's no question that's exactly how Eastwood presents it so framing the discussion any other way would only sugar-coat the obvious. But it's not as if Kyle is presented as this emotionless one-man killing machine, knocking off innocent women and children without a second thought. There are many scenes where we see him physically and emotionally struggle with what his actions, often beating himself up for feeling that he didn't do enough for his men. An early scene even shows him pretty much rejecting any celebration of his accomplishments and a more devastating one back home depicts an encounter with a vet he saved, but can't even look in the eye.

Anyone claiming Eastwood isn't showing the horror or ramifications of war or just simply throwing a victory parade celebrating Kyle's kill count was obviously watching a different film. The entire third act, in which he devolves into such a disengaged zombie that he can't speak to his wife should be proof enough. But even in giving the director points for his balanced portrayal, we still never really learn anything about Kyle that we didn't know going in. And while the film's structure (alternating between war and home life scenes) undeniably keeps the pace moving, it doesn't break any new ground and sometimes feels frustratingly repetitive. It's a throwback war film of sorts not entirely dissimilar to last year's Lone Survivor, and while everyone's tolerance of watching a skilled sniper pick off targets for two-plus hours will vary, mine started to wane after a while. But there's still no denying the sequences are excitingly staged by Eastwood, who keeps the tension level consistently high.

Bradley Cooper doesn't have an easy job here in not only playing a recent real-life figure, but a quiet, intense guy whose lack of emotion is a prerequisite to him being as skilled as he is. There's never much emanating from Kyle, and if Eastwood is to be believed, little in the way of a personality either. That's a challenging character to center a movie around but Cooper meets the physical requirements by bulking up considerably, while also giving us all we need to know through his body language and subtle facial expressions during the tensest of circumstances. If you add up the lines of dialogue he has throughout the film it wouldn't be much because it simply isn't necessary. Kyle is a man who commands respect because of his actions and Cooper really captures that.

The strain on Kyle's marriage never carries the emotional resonance it should and part of that problem stems from the fact that Taya is treated as almost a whiny, superfluous diversion that pops up in between tours. It's easy to just lay all the blame on Eastwood or screenwriter Jason Hall for an underwritten, borderline misoginistic character, but Sienna Miller doesn't do herself any favors by acting with a capital "A" in all her emotionally charged scenes. Something about the performance just rubbed me the wrong way, as I never bought that I was watching Taya Kyle so much as a Hollywood actress shoehorned into a stock role of the distraught wife. While much has been made of the noticeable plastic baby used in the now infamous nursery scene, that actually stuck out less to me than Miller's frequently grating work.

The biggest question mark going into the film wasn't how Eastwood would navigate the tricky minefield of Chris Kyle's story, but how he'd address the bizarre circumstances surrounding his eventual death. It's the only detail that doesn't feel widely known, even if the actual event is drenched in the cruelest of ironies. Eastwood mostly chooses not to dwell on it, save for a very brief scene at the end that doesn't really work due to a lingering, ill-advised facial expression by Miller that inexplicably implies Taya foresaw his death. While holding back was probably the respectful thing to do, it does seem as if an intriguing commentary surrounding its irony was left on the table. Much like Kyle's life, the film doesn't end so much as suddenly stop, with a certain comfort in knowing he finally found his calling and purpose in helping other veterans.

What's interesting is that given how mixed a bag the film is it's mostly being attacked for all the things Eastwood gets right and his intentions in making it. It's revealing how few complaints center around the actual content. That it's about an important subject aimed at an arguably underserved audience might be the best thing American Sniper has going for it. It delivers all the tension the trailer promises, but the real surprise might be how little we actually learn about Chris Kyle. By the time the credits silently rolled, I was left strangely unfulfilled, but respectfully impressed.
      

Trouble with the Curve

Director: Robert Lorenz
Starring: Clint Eastwood, Amy Adams, Justin Timberlake, Matthew Lillard, John Goodman, Robert Patrick, Scott Eastwood
Running Time: 111 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

When aging baseball scout Gus Lobel says a player looks good "on paper" you better believe he knows what he's talking about. No one has more paperwork since he refuses to rely on computers or even statistics to his job. But considering he's played by Clint Eastwood, you probably could have guessed that already. He's old school, as is the film's approach to sports recruiting. Trouble with the Curve could easily be his anti-Moneyball, if not for the fact that for the first time since 1993's In The Line of Fire, he's acting in a film he didn't actually direct. Taking over the reigns with mixed results is his longtime assistant director and producer Robert Lorenz, who puts his mentor front and center. And yet despite appearing in every scene, it still doesn't really feel like Eastwood's film. This is light, popcorn entertainment with the actor's performance playing as kind of a Grumpy Old Men version of his bitter, ornery Gran Torino character, minus the racial and ethnic slurs. It does some things well, and a few more wrong, but it's not exactly the disaster many have made it out to be, suffering more for its theatrical release coinciding with the actor's infamous Republican convention speech last November. Of course, that was blown way out of proportion by the media, undeserving of being remembered as anything other than a tiny blip on his storied career. He's earned that much, even if this effort still doesn't quite add up to much more than the sum of its parts. But if interviews implying that this could be his final acting appearance hold true, we can at least be grateful it's no Welcome To Mooseport.

With his contract up in three months, legendary Atlanta Braves' scout Gus refuses to see the handwriting on the wall. Now in his twilight years and with rapidly deteriorating eyesight, management may not extend his contract despite his best friend and boss Pete (John Goodman) doing everything he can to convince them otherwise. But Gus has a major, "can't miss" prospect to check out in North Carolina, and much to his displeasure, Pete convinces his workaholic lawyer daughter Mickey (Amy Adams) to join him on the trip, which evolves into an extended therapy session for both. With Mickey distracted by a potential promotion to partner at work and still harboring resentment toward her dad for abandoning her as a child and Gus in full denial about his declining health, their few moments of bonding come from their shared love of baseball. While there, they run into the charismatic Johnny Flanagan (Justin Timberlake) a former player Gus recruited who's now a scout for the Red Sox angling for a job in the broadcast booth. While scouting the kid he takes a romantic interest in Mickey but Gus has bigger problems to worry about. If he screws this up, he's done for good.

It's difficult to watch this without memories of 2011's vastly superior Moneyball lingering in the background. What's compelling about the comparison is that while both films focus heavily on major league baseball scouting, they take completely opposite approaches. Eastwood's Gus may as well be one of the old, out-of-touch veterans who were mocked by Brad Pitt's Billy Beane in so many of that picture's most effective scenes. There was no point in management actually "scouting" anyone anymore, as the key to the A's success came from the sabermetric system of running player stats through a computer. Here, computers are viewed as creating a culture of laziness in baseball management, screwing teams up by recruiting the wrong players and costing wise, grizzled veterans like Gus their office jobs. This is exemplified with Matthew Lillard's sleazy Braves scout, a character who rather heavy-handedly represents the supposedly clueless new guard. In other words, a one-dimensional moron who knows nothing about baseball and lets his computer program do the work. That's a bit of a stretch, as is the assertion that an aging well traveled blind man is preferable. The truth probably lies somewhere in between in terms of statistics and experience and a narrative exploring would have been far more interesting than the one we get. Fair or not, that manipulation kept me from completely sympathizing with Gus when we're clearly meant to. Also odd is what a slog the action is considering there's more of an emphasis on actual scouting and recruiting at games as opposed to just analyzing statistics, a task Moneyball somehow found a way to make extremely exciting.

It all has kind of a lazy Sunday afternoon TV movie feel about it, only coming alive when Justin Timberlake arrives to share the screen with Amy Adams and Eastwood. He's ideal for the part of a cocky, but good-hearted former player who's career was cut short. He just nails it, making you wonder why he wasn't the protagonist since he certainly feels like one in scenes opposite Adams, with whom he has surprisingly great chemistry. Too bad the pacing of the relationship feels off, as it seems to take about an hour of screen time for those sparks to go anywhere, and by the time they do, we've checked out. Adams basically carries the whole movie bringing a considerable amount of depth her ice princess character and the usually hackneyed storyline of a father-hating daughter carrying emotional baggage. Without spoiling too much, when we're finally given an explanation for the rift between the two, it's in a flashback scene meant to pack a dramatic wallop, but instead had me howling with laughter. It plays like a bizarre cross between Equus and Dirty Harry. But that we even got a brief moment of bad-ass, old school Eastwood is reason enough to celebrate since the rest of the way through it does kind of feel like he's on autopilot, at times almost sending up his own image as an actor and icon.

For all it does wrong, this gets one really important thing right. There's this seemingly throwaway moment toward the middle of the picture with the obnoxious (and boy he's obnoxious) player Gus and Johnny are scouting that's strangely memorable, its full repercussions figuring into the conclusion in a surprising way. The way it returns, much like everything else in the third act, is probably a bit too convenient, but the underlying message of talent hiding anywhere isn't. Of course, a few more happy (if not completely earned) resolutions are also shoehorned into an ending that clumsily juggles personal and professional trials, before tying them up nicely with a bow. Ironically, the film is strongest when dealing with the personal drama and weaker in the professional department, namely everything involving Mickey's work problems back home, resulting in annoying, undramatic scenes with Adams' face buried in her phone, texting non-stop. The attempt join everything together at the end comes off as well as it can given the circumstances, even as Lorenz faces limitations imposed on him by an overstuffed script. Despite its predictability and the fact it has nothing particularly important to say, Trouble With The Curve is still a breezy watch, as there are far worse ways to kill two hours, especially for Eastwood fans who will probably feel obligated to see it. And they should. Just as long as they don't expect anything special.

Hereafter

Director: Clint Eastwood
Starring: Matt Damon, Cecile de France, Bryce Dallas Howard, Jay Mohr, Richard Kind, Frankie McLaren, George McLaren, Derek Jacobi
Running Time: 129 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Had all of Clint Eastwood's Hereafter been as thrilling as its opening ten minutes it could have been one of the best films of 2010. In a different way, the rest impresses also, but those first ten minutes, a CGI re-creation of a real-life catastrophe, won't leave you anytime soon and might stand as one of the more frightening natural disaster effects sequences put on screen. When a movie starts this ambitiously and a director of Eastwood's caliber is attached, it makes sense lofty expectations accompany the rest of it and everyone would feel let down when it doesn't unfold as trailers would indicate. But what sold me is it's sincerity and upfront honesty with what it's trying to do. It's a well-acted introspective, thought provoking character study that's slightly frustrating since it doesn't do much wrong, but doesn't amount to anything monumental either. I'm not even sure it was meant to as Eastwood, perhaps too generously, wanted audiences to do most of the intellectual heavy lifting. Those who appreciate that approach will enjoy it while everyone else will feel left out in the cold, but at least give the director credit for making the movie he wanted to make, regardless of any pressure he could have encountered from the studio to deliver your typical supernatural thriller. This is anything but. 

The film tells three parallel stories of people affected by death that eventually intertwine in a fairly straightforward manner, with few twists or surprises.  The first, and most interesting, concerns blue-collar factory worker, George Lonegan (Matt Damon) a former professional psychic who views his supposed gift as curse, and one that threatens to ruin a potential relationship with enthusiastic cooking class partner Melanie (Bryce Dallas Howard). French television reporter Marie Lelay (Cecile de France) is a survivor of The Indian Ocean tsunami of 2004, but not without being traumatized the near-death experience, its after effects interfering with every aspect of her life and work. And the U.K. twins Marcus and Jason (Frankie and George McLaren) are about to be removed from the custody of their drug-addicted mother when tragedy strikes and Marcus is killed, leaving a distraught Jason in search of reputable psychic, only to discover there are very few. You can probably guess where that storyline's going.

If this all seems to slightly similar to 2006's Babel with its vaguely interconnected narratives that's because it is, with a big difference being this isn't as emotionally manipulative or press nearly as many buttons as that far busier script did. It's definitely more low-key and introspective, primarily concerned with observing these how people view death. Some will find this boring but I was surprised how the lengthy over two-hour running time flew by despite there being little excitement outside the incredible opening sequence. Damon's story is by far the best and the scenes he has with Bryce Dallas Howard are easily the most engaging in the film because Damon (in his most somber mode here) perfectly conveys how George's abilities can really destroy any chance he has at forging a real relationship. Melanie wants a reading, but he tries to resist. By the time he's done with it she realizes she should have taken the warning and we realize she wasn't what she seemed. The other two stories don't click as well, though the reporter's storyline benefits greatly from having a documentary realism to it. Eastwood flirts with corniness at the end, but somehow I bought it because the ideas were at presented in an intelligently restrained way throughout, never forcing the issue.

Flopping at the box office late last year, it was one of the most poorly received and reviewed films of Eastwood's career, which probably speaks more to the public's distaste with the subject matter than anything else. For whatever reason mainstream moviegoers have a major aversion to seeing the afterlife depicted in popular entertainment. Whether it's What Dreams May Come, The Lovely Bones, or even recently proven on television with Lost, very few efforts dealing with this topic have ever been met with a favorable response. It seems there are certain preconceptions about how this should be presented on screen and whatever choice is made ends up being wrong if it doesn't match what's in audiences' minds. To Eastwood's credit, he doesn't seem to care. Hereafter works as an exploration of human behavior that probably won't come together how anyone wants it to, but that doesn't necessarily make the trip there any less absorbing.

Gran Torino

Director: Clint Eastwood
Starring: Clint Eastwood, Bee Vang, Ahney Her, Christopher Carley, John Carroll Lynch, Brian Haley, Brian Howe
Running Time: 116 min.
Rating: R

★★★ 1/2 (out of ★★★★)

If Walt Kowalski, the cranky bigot Clint Eastwood portrays in Gran Torino ever wrote a book I'd imagine the table of contents would look something like this:

I. Kids today don't know a f***g thing
II. Why Obama shouldn't be President
III. Buy American or I'll kick your ass
IV. In praise of Charlton Heston
V. I'll show you how to solve the immigration problem

You get the picture. But forget everything you've seen or read about Gran Torino, the legendary Eastwood's latest as a director and what he's claiming is his swan song as an actor. This isn't what you think it is and it turns out Dirty Harry has a surprising knack for comedy. The movie is as hilarious as it is emotionally gut-wrenching, not going where I expected nor using the means I thought it would to get there. That the film is as funny as it is will probably cause discomfort and disgust for more discriminating audiences and if you're lucky it may even cause you to ask yourself why you're laughing. That's a good thing. You should ask yourself because it's a valid question. There's nothing funny about hurling racist, xenophobic slurs....right? Yet Eastwood manages to get away with it all. More so, you'll probably end up liking and respecting him even more as an actor/director when all is said and done. If it is a career closer then it's a fitting one, not to mention his most bizarre role. And what a relief that the film doesn't over-sentimentalize anything and turns out to be as just as stubborn and uncompromising as its polarizing protagonist.

Retired auto worker Walt is still haunted by his days in the Korean War where he earned a silver star serving our country. The film opens with his wife's funeral, an emotional blow that makes him even more bitter and cantankerous than usual. The last white man in a Detroit suburb overrun by crime, time has passed him by as he sits on the front porch with his dog, a shotgun and a cooler of beer. Walt hates everyone but most of his disdain is directed at the Hmong who have just moved in next door, who he refers to about every 5 minutes as "gooks" and "zipperheads." Said epithets are usually accompanied with a growl, sneer and grimace. The remainder of his hatred is directed at his selfish and ungrateful sons (played by Brian Haley and Brian Howe) who want to push their old man into a "retirement community" while his own grand daughter can't wait for him to kick the bucket so she can decorate her dorm room with his furniture.

When the shy, impressionable Thao (Bee Vang) attempts to break in and steal his '72 Gran Torino as part of a gang initiation rite, Walt doesn't call the police. He's too used to serving out justice on his own. The Hmong family, indebted to Walt for accidentally protecting them from those local gangbangers, offer up Thao (or "Toad" as Walt calls him) as an indentured servant. Male bonding and a softening of Walt's character is expected. That happens...but not exactly how you'd think. If it did, the film would have descended into cheap sentimentality, but instead Walt's growing bond with Tao and his family does nothing to temper his penchant for hurling ethnic slurs. In fact, it does so little to temper it that he even invites Tao to join in when, in the film's most hilarious scene, Walt trades vulgar insults with his barber (John Carrol Lynch). Of course, the idea being that he wants to show Tao how to act like a man.

A lot of viewers had major problems with this development, believing Eastwood is treating racism and xenophobia as punch lines, which is completely missing the point. There are old, bitter bigots like Walt who toss around ethnic jabs for fun every day. And they think they're a riot. What Eastwood taps into with his performance (which if you look closer is a whole lot more than just growls and sneers) is that people like this are funny, just not in the way they believe themselves to be. Speaking only for myself, I was frequently laughing at Walt's pathetic cluelessness. How stupid he sounded rattling all those slurs off every five seconds. That's exactly what Eastwood was going for and he nailed it. If anyone actually wants to believe he's endorsing bigotry or we should all embrace ethnic name-calling as sport, that's not his problem.

Even more frustrating for some will be that a lot of the points Walt brings up during the film are right. In another comical scene when he advices Tao how to pick up women the situation is made funnier when we realize that his tips could work. Similarly, when he takes Tao to meet a prospective employer, telling him how he should act and talk he's right on the money for that given situation. It can be uncomfortable watching a character so full of hate be right about so many things, have so much to offer, yet go about it in such an abrasive way. As it can be watching material this dramatically heavy mixed with moments of comedy. But none of it ever feels tasteless or unnecessary.

Those around him don't so much excuse Walt's bigotry as just begrudgingly accept it as part of who he is. He isn't changing. And if you don't like it, fine. Only two characters in the film seem to see through it. One is a young priest named Father Janovich (Christopher Carley) who promised Walt's late wife he'd get him to confession, which proves much more difficult than anticipated. He underestimates Walt, but Walt REALLY underestimates him. They're more alike than he's willing to admit. The other is Thao's sister Sue (Ahney Her) who doesn't buy Walt's "bad guy" act for a second and will use her spunk and sarcasm to break through it. Their performances are as impressive as Eastwood's, who never betrays the audience's trust in his character by wussing out.

The movie doesn't take the cheap way out as it builds to a big showdown that wouldn't seem out of place in a Dirty Harry picture or one of Eastwood's classic westerns. Except this time the the setting and the stakes are far different...maybe higher. I liked how Walt handled the situation on his terms, yet still stayed stubbornly true to his character. Comparisons can be made between Walt and another movie anti-hero from this past year, Mickey Rourke's Randy "The Ram" Robinson from The Wrestler. Both men have been bull-headed in their proud devotion to something they love and now that it's gone, so are they. Walt may take a little longer to warm up to, but the respect Eastwood earns for him is no less.

After watching Gran Torino, something stays with you in a way that isn't so easily replicated by a lot of films released in 2008. It actually feels very relevant to the time we live in now and the problems we're facing. The so-called experts claim that in these dark days we want to go to the movies for an escape, rather then be bombarded with social issues in our backyards. That's true to an extent, but what's truer is that audiences want to see smart, entertaining films made well, regardless of whether they leave the theater skipping with delight. In Walt Kowalkski, Eastwood has created another iconic film character and this will likely be the role he'll be best remembered for. More importantly, he actually looked like he had a great time playing it. Eastwood the comedian? Who would have thought? At age 78 he's still finding ways to surprise us.