2.5 stars. Rating: PG, for dramatic intensity and brief violence
By Derrick Bang
Advocacy cinema is nothing new,
and in some cases serendipitous timing can help raise public awareness of an
important issue; the most famous example remains The China Syndrome, and its
coincidental proximity to the partial nuclear meltdown at Three Mile Island,
which took place 12 days after the film was released.
But dramas that trivialize significant
real-world issues can be extremely irritating, particularly when the filmmakers
resort to ludicrous dollops of soap-style melodrama, as is the case with Won’t
Back Down.
The American public school system
has become a national tragedy, and the many teachers’ unions do themselves no
favors by adhering to hard-line policies that favor their own employment over
the desperate need for reform and bureaucratic streamlining. Yes, it’s a
complicated issue, with economic malaise, parental hostility and student
indifference deserving their share of the blame.
But those fires of parental
hostility have been stoked, in great part, by the system’s apparent refusal to consider
reform, let alone embrace it. And since art always imitates life, we wind up
with the likes of dramas “inspired by actual events” ... which is to say,
thinly suggested by real-world activity but mostly made up.
The passion at work here is
laudable, as are the performances by stars Viola Davis and Maggie Gyllenhaal.
But director Daniel Barnz’s film is clumsy and one-sided, his script — co-written
with Brin Hill — as unbalanced as kid-centric TV sitcoms that score points by
making all adults look like blithering idiots.
It’s perhaps telling to recall
that Won't Back Down was a can’t-miss event at both the Democratic
and Republican conventions, where it drew applause and prompted lively
follow-up panel discussions. And that seems to have been Barnz’s primary goal:
to score political points, rather than to make a good movie.
But people rarely are persuaded
by material that offends their intelligence — and/or pisses them off — and that’s
the core problem here. Few things are more irritating than a filmmaker who
piles on contrivance and artificial tension with a trowel.
Gyllenhaal stars as Jamie
Fitzpatrick, a struggling single mother who lives in a working-class Pittsburgh
neighborhood and juggles two jobs while trying to ease the schoolwork anxieties
endured by her dyslexic daughter, Malia (Emily Alyn Lind). The girl’s reading
disability aside, her major problem is the shrike of a teacher (Nancy Bach) who
teaches third grade at the local public school.
This character, a callous bully
who can’t be bothered to teach, immediately signals the insufferably overstated
style that infects the entire film. Every time we see this witch, she’s either
humiliating her young students — ultimately, to the point of child abuse — or defiantly
striding through the teacher’s lounge, proudly enduring taunts about being the
highest-paid and lowest-performing instructor in the school.
I’ll give Bach points for getting
us to loathe her so quickly and completely, but come on, folks; there’s a big difference between incompetence and
outright cruelty. This monster would have been hauled out in handcuffs long
ago, so-called “union protection” be damned. If Barnz and Hill need to resort
to this sort of exaggeration to make their case, they obviously ignored the
lessons of Screenplay 101.
Anyway, Jamie’s efforts to get
Malia moved into another class are met with indifference and denial at every
turn, from the school’s equally stubborn and heartless principal (Bill Nunn,
also in a thankless role), to the district rules apparently designed to prevent
parent participation, rather than encourage it.
More than anything, Jamie wants
her daughter to be taught by the likes of Nona Alberts (Davis), a dedicated —
if worn down — teacher in an adjoining classroom; or Michael Perry (Oscar
Isaac), the school’s enthusiastic and beloved-by-kids music instructor.
Since Jamie is a never-say-die,
go-getter type, who has honed her persuasive chops by selling used cars at a
flyspeck lot of highly dubious quality, she refuses to abandon this quixotic
quest. After currying favor with a sympathetic district receptionist (Lucia
Forte, in a brief but memorable role), Jamie learns that it’s possible to “take
over” a school, if allied with enough willing parents and teachers.
Nona is the obvious first choice
from the teaching pool, but she’s wary of rocking the boat. She also has plenty
of her own problems at home, notably an impatient husband (Lance Reddick)
inches away from divorce, apparently because of the relationship stress caused
by their own learning-impaired son (Dante Brown).
Oh, yes: Nona also carries A Big
Secret, which somehow ties in with her marital anxiety, and which the script
hints at constantly. The disclosure of this little bombshell, in the third act,
prompted genuine hostility from Tuesday evening’s preview audience. It’s not
merely one stupid contrivance too many; it’s frankly offensive ... and makes a
lie of this character’s behavior throughout the entire film.
Not even an actress of Davis’
stature could pull that one off.
Naturally, Jamie and Michael
become an item, despite his discomfort with her mounting anti-union feelings.
This relationship apparently exists so that these characters can give lip
service to the two sides of that particular argument, but the flimsy efforts at
this “debate” are weak and unconvincing ... as is the courtship itself. Rarely
have two lovers displayed less chemistry.
Once Jamie and Nona build up some
momentum, they naturally attract the attention of the local union officials,
Evelyn Riske (Holly Hunter) and her laughably arrogant boss, Arthur Gould (Ned
Eisenberg), a pompous jerk who serves as the mouthpiece for the
protect-the-teachers-at-all-costs-and-students-be-damned side of the equation.
Gould is this story’s political
dirty trickster, stooping to character assassination as a matter of personal
pride. And when Riske displays some conscience and questions his behavior,
Gould imperiously responds with a quote he attributes to his idol, famed
UFT/AFT president Albert Shanker: “When schoolchildren start paying union dues,
that’s when I’ll start representing the interests of schoolchildren.”
Actually, the authenticity of
that quote remains in serious doubt, but hey: We can’t expect a little thing
like historical accuracy to interfere with Barnz’s storyline, right?
The unbalanced script aside,
Gyllenhaal is radiant and charismatic as the hard-charging Jamie. She’s also
endearing, forever mangling words in her enthusiasm: a legacy of her own
unsuccessful public school education (and one of the few times this film
inserts a character trait with subtlety, rather than with a sledge hammer).
We can easily see Jamie as a
parent advocate, because Gyllenhaal successfully sells her character. Despite
the plot’s many contrivances, at the core we have Gyllenhaal’s protective
mother, and she deserves credit for the degree to which the rest of this mess
becomes palatable.
Davis, as mentioned, faces
impossible odds. She persuasively navigates the transition from worn-down
teacher to hopeful reform advocate, prompted in part by the memories that spill
from a carton filled with mementos from Nona’s earlier, more passionate
teaching days. Davis’ strength has always been her ability to convey mental
torment via her expressive and often anguished features; we naturally
sympathize with a woman who suffers so much but stubbornly endures.
But although Davis builds plenty
of good will, she cannot get beyond the extreme dysfunction of her character’s
home life.
Perry is amiable and easy on the
eyes, and he has a natural grace on camera. Michael is one of this story’s
understated characters, which is to the film’s advantage; he adds a measure of
calm to the often overly shrill tone.
Rosie Perez is engaging but
under-developed as Breena Harper, Nona’s best friend and a fellow teacher.
Marianne Jean-Baptiste is strikingly memorable as Olivia Lopez, chair of the
local board of education; she owns the film’s climactic scenes.
We never get a good bead on
Hunter’s Evelyn Riske, who apparently represents the long-absent soul of the teachers'
union. Hunter isn’t given enough screen time to build a three-dimensional
character, and as a result serves mostly as a mouthpiece for clichéd
statements; when she speaks, we see the puppeteer’s strings.
Production designer Rusty Smith
does a nice job with Jamie’s working-class surroundings, and particularly the
cramped apartment she shares with her daughter.
I applaud the overall intent
here, but the execution leaves much to be desired. A strong, well-argued drama
certainly can be built upon this topic, but Won’t Back Down ain't that film.
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