Runtime: 2 hours, 20 minutes
Rating: R
Directors: Derek Cianfrance
Quick Impressions:
The Place Beyond the Pines made a strong impression on me and convinced me of one thing beyond all doubt. Somebody has got to tell J.J. Abrams that Dane DeHaan belongs in the next Star Wars movie. I remember joking in my review of Chronicle about DeHaan’s uncanny resemblance to Mark Hamill, particularly in the scene in Empire Strikes Back when Luke reacts badly to Vader’s iconic bombshell. Clearly I’m not the only one who’s noticed because there’s a kind of throw away “I am your father” joke in this movie. Did they add that to the script once DeHaan was cast because of his uncanny resemblance to a young Luke Skywalker, bewildered with rage? I think so, but what matters is that DeHaan is clearly next generation Skywalker material and deserves at least an audition for a main role in Episode VII.
Now that I’ve gotten that out of my system, I’ll say that The Place Beyond the Pines has quite a bit in common with Star Wars. It benefits from the charisma and acting talent of its male leads, has a lot to do with unresolved father/son issues, and is actually three (pretty good) movies. (The Place Beyond the Pines purports to be only one good movie, and Star Wars would like to be six good movies, providing a useful illustration of the gulf that often exists between intended outcome and reality.)
The Place Beyond the Pines has something to say, and it relies on deft artistry to convey its message. It also defies typical film conventions, particularly when it comes to narrative boundaries. Honestly, it’s a bit long and not exactly the masterpiece it clearly dreams of being, but it gets points for dreaming big. I’m definitely encouraged by its relatively wide release because one thing it’s not is mindless, cookie-cutter garbage. Lately, I’ve seen more and more art house type movies attract big-named casts and sneak onto the screens usually reserved for blockbusters. This is an encouraging trend, and I hope it continues.
The Good:
Once upon a time, Ryan Gosling’s energy-sucking, dead-eyed stare curdled my blood, and I thought Bradley Cooper was just a (not all that) pretty face devoid of talent. Obviously, I was wrong (as I realized long before The Place Beyond the Pines.) Both leads give great performances here, though I think I’d give Gosling the edge in terms of natural talent. Overall, I think that Cooper has greater range, but Gosling has more raw power as a particular type of character. Dane DeHaan is also fantastic. I really love him. He knows how to make his entire body a beacon of conflicting emotions. He’s a great actor and I predict an Academy Award in his (distant) future.
The supporting cast is also marvelous. Rose Byrne impressed me with her versatility in the summer of 2011. If you don’t believe me, just watch Bridesmaids, X-Men: First Class, and Get Him to the Greek (which I saw late on blu-ray) back to back to back. She’s like three different people. Here she has an incredibly small role (given the size of the parts played by the other name actors). She also has remarkably few lines. Honestly, she’s not given too much to work with (besides a character in a situation that a great actress can do a lot with). Despite having a small part, she gives a great performance, particularly in the way she plays the dinner scene.
Eva Mendez is good, too, though if I were her, I’d punch the make-up team in the face(s?) for aging her so savagely. Seriously, after a fifteen year jump, everyone else in the cast looks almost exactly the same (except for the infants who are replaced with teens). Meanwhile, the usually lovely Mendez suddenly looks like she’s spent the last fifteen years beating her face into a pile of bricks as a daily beauty regimen. Seriously, I know that her character has suffered, and that stress can age you prematurely, but good grief! I suppose this transformation is deliberate since she looks so fecund and nubile in her first scene (and for good reason). I suppose they’re trying to emphasize the contrast, but I think they went a little overboard considering that everybody else in the entire cast aged by getting like one gray hair or a different style tie and Mendez looks like Keith Richards’s dead grandmother who’s been touring with the band and partying hard with the roadies all these years.
Mahershala Ali is also pretty amazing as Kofi. It’s a pretty small role that didn’t have to be anything special. (Kofi is basically significant simply because he exists. The movie is not so interested in who he is.) But Ali makes the part something special. He’s wonderfully compelling and plays the character in such a strong, sympathetic way that the film benefits tremendously (because then we’re forced to sympathize with both Luke and Kofi). Ali has been in so many big-name projects, most of which I haven’t watched, but I’ll definitely be watching for him now.
Ben Mendelsohn is another busy, working actor I’ve somehow failed to register until now. He’s quite good as Robin, a frustrating character who must be played with care. Bruce Greenwood is very good in a very small part.
Ray Liotta, I think, is a bit wasted here. He seems like an afterthought, like they decided, “Well, and now we need somebody to play a menacing, smiling scumbag. Is Ray Liotta available?” As always, Liotta lends a charismatic presence, but the story is not about him, really. It’s an oddly limited part for such a well-known actor, but he’s definitely convincing in the role.
The movie also benefits from an interesting—and genuinely unpredictable—story. The downside to being outside the box, of course, is that the story often seems to have no governing shape. It sprawls on and on like some out of control blob monster with daddy issues. Of course, reading over that sentence, I notice that it makes the film sound pretty interesting, and it is a very captivating, original story (even if it doesn’t know when or how to stop).
More than anything, Pines seems to be a showcase for the talents of the cast, and some of them take advantage of this more than others. Gosling is really way out in front, giving such a great performance that it’s hard not to want the entire movie to focus on him. DeHaan picks up right where he leaves off. Cooper is good, don’t get me wrong. But Cooper never finds the level of chemistry with anyone that Gosling enjoys with Mendelsohn, Mendez, and cute little Tony Pizza. The trouble is, Cooper’s character goes on a journey that centers on his disconnect from others, and that’s trickier to play. Both leads do fine work here, but I liked Gosling (and his part of the story) much better.
Best Scene Visually:
Color clearly matters in this movie. The wash a scene gets is never incidental. As the film opens, Luke (Ryan Gosling) walks through carnival grounds, which—as we all know—are full of blinking lights, riotous crowd noise, and dazzling colors. Usually in movies, when stuff happens at a carnival, we’re allowed to soak in the spectacle. A carnival is nature’s version of a Baz Lurhman film, and most filmmakers take us there to benefit from the naturally occurring production value. Bright lights, bold colors, giddy crowds—that kind of stuff looks good on the big screen. But Luke works at the carnival, so for him, it’s all business. So The Place Beyond the Pines gives us the most subdued screen carnival ever. It’s more than muted. Everything looks a lifeless blue—the color cast we usually get inside an office building where workers drearily carryout their daily routine. This is the industrial blue of humdrum drudgery. Luke isn’t trying to win a big, stuffed novelty dog. He’s having the equivalent of another day at the office. Is it significant that Romina (Eva Mendez) shows up wearing a lighter, more vibrant blue? (Almost a turquoise.) Probably. (Is it significant that she’s pointedly not wearing a bra?) All I can say there is that visually, the scene definitely gets more lively and exciting when she shows up—and I don’t think that’s accidental. (Honestly, I think there’s some visual symbolism at play—or at least visual cues to a shift in mood and theme—but without a doubt, Mendez’s lack of undergarment is done deliberately because that’s not something anybody could
overlook.)
My point is, the care taken with the visual choices in the first scene prepare the audience to pay attention to subtle color cues throughout the rest of the movie. There’s a marvelous moment when Ryan Gosling’s face is bathed in green light. When I saw it, I knew immediately, “This matters. This is going to come up again somehow.” And it did. Later on, we get a very similar shot of Bradley Cooper’s face bathed in red light. We are meant to pay attention clearly. It’s a visual cue suggesting (at the most basic level) that these moments are thematically linked.
A review isn’t really the place to analyze a film in depth. (I mean, it’s hard to provide insightful analysis without giving spoilers.) But I think the film would stand up to scrutiny in this respect. In fact, watching again to follow the shifting colors would probably raise the film in a viewer’s estimation. Even on the visual level by itself, The Place Beyond the Pines is a thoughtfully made film that invites analysis and attention to detail. In fact, I think it might in some ways be a better film with the sound turned down. (Visually, it comes closer to accomplishing its ambitious goals than it does in many of its other aspects.)
Honestly, the green light/red light business was probably my favorite thing about the movie. For sure, it’s why I’ll remember it.
Best Scene:
Two scenes stand out to me.
More than words, I loved the “Dancing in the Dark” moment. I thought it was wonderful the way they recovered the vitality of a song that in its day was a huge hit. By the time I was a teenager, Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark” had been largely reduced to a trivia question about how Monica on Friends got her big break. Once you hear a song like that so many times, once it begins to be played in the background at the mall or in an elevator, it
stops being what it was. But the reason “Dancing in the Dark” was such a big hit in the first place (Courtney Cox’s awesome dancing in the video notwithstanding) was that something about the song powerfully appealed to people.
This film doesn’t waste “Dancing in the Dark.” It restores the power originally present in the hit song. Now I know that may sound a little crazy, but see the movie, and maybe you’ll know what I mean. Cianfrance is a director who recognizes that we take many important things for granted because of overfamiliarity. He seems to want to show us how to reclaim the significance and power of those things we have lost in the shuffle. That’s a tendency I noticed throughout the film. The “Dancing in the Dark” moment is a perfect example of that impulse.
The other key scene, I think, is the assault on Kofi.
Cooper’s best scenes finish second, but he does get runner-up points for the red-light scene with Liotta, and the anguished apology.
Best Action Sequence:
Ryan Gosling’s robbery voice is one of my favorite things about the movie, and all of the robbery scenes are quite gripping. Not surprisingly, though, the best action sequence is the one that culminates in the brief moment Gosling and Cooper share inside the house.
The Negatives:
A huge weakness of this film is that the Ryan Gosling part is too good, and that comes first. That story is so captivating. The performances are excellent across the board, and—in distinction from later portions of the story—all of the actors have quite a bit to work with. The characters are really rich and interesting, and somehow all of them manage to be somewhat sympathetic even though they’re constantly at odds with one another. Since most audiences are used to more conventionally structured movies, it’s very hard not to get attached to this portion of the film. Basically, this part is so good that it’s hard to let it go.
In all honesty, I sometimes think the film’s very outside-the-box originality works against it. The problem is, as you watch it, once you realize you’re outside the box, you have no clue where you are or how to orient yourself. What’s beyond the box? What’s containing the story? The answer seems to be nothing. The story keeps expanding and expanding, and we have no idea what to expect. The problem is, it gets lets captivating and less cohesive as it goes. By the end, we should care the most, but unfortunately, that’s the layer of the story we get least invested in. (The A.J. character, particularly, needs more development. I get the idea, but I feel like, “And I should care why?”) At least, that was my experience. I’ll readily grant that others may have a different take on it.
If I’d been in charge, I would have zeroed in on Dane DeHaan’s story. From his point of view, the story is much more exciting. The approach we’re given minimizes the impact of coincidence. Because we see every possible thread of the story as it starts, when everything comes together, we don’t get any kind of powerful payoff. (I mean, we get great fodder for close analysis, and an interesting take on issues like the power of forgiveness, the nature of privilege, nature versus nurture, destiny versus self-determination. But we don’t get any big catharsis really.) Now imagine if the story were told from DeHaan’s point of view. That moment when he’s on the stairs with a girl—what a moment that would be! What an uncanny shock! It’s always dizzying when one thing seems to set off a chain reaction and changes your entire life. And the moment is that way for DeHaan’s character, but the audience doesn’t really get to feel it. I know that the director is less interested in high drama than in philosophical musings—at least, let’s hope he is because that’s the way he sets his priorities. But I would have gone for the high drama. I think it would have been more satisfying on the screen. Then we could have been told the whole story in flashback—and suspense could have been added as we were shown bits here and there, like Jason never knowing exactly what was happening or who could be trusted. Now Luke would seem like the villain of the piece, now Avery, now Kofi. Perhaps we’d get to the end only to reach another stunning realization—there was no villain after all. I think that this is basically what is happening for Jason, and I wish that we were experiencing it along with him. But it’s not my movie, so I don’t get to do it my way, and I will admit that as is, the film is reasonably captivating.
One more small quibble I have is that when the film jumped fifteen years into the future, I suddenly asked myself, “Wait! When was this film set?” I honestly didn’t realize it wasn’t present day from the start. And even now, I’m still not sure of the time frame. I started paying attention to cars and fashion and house styles in the later segments, but that didn’t really help because the characters often hang around in impoverished areas where not everyone can afford the latest trend.
Overall:
The Place Beyond the Pines is definitely different from most other movies currently in wide release. It benefits from an unpredictable story and a talented cast, and clearly a lot of thought has gone into every aspect of the film, from cinematography to soundtrack. Don’t expect a thrill-a-minute crime drama, though. (You’d have a heart attack if it delivered on that because the film is one-hundred-forty minutes long, and toward the end, you start feeling every last minute.) Ryan Gosling is fantastic. Bradley Cooper is quite good. And Dane DeHaan has thoroughly convinced me that he needs to be in Star Wars. So if anybody knows J.J. Abrams or a casting director, please pass that along. Thanks.