Four stars. Rating: R, for profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.9.13
Matt Damon hasn’t written many scripts since 1997’s Good Will Hunting, his Academy Award-winning debut effort with Ben Affleck. His prudence is understandable; where does one go, from up?
Good Will Hunting was directed by Gus Van Sant; no
surprise, then, that they collaborated on Damon’s next script, 2002’s
little-seen (with good cause) Gerry.
Perhaps chastened by that
experience, Damon put his word processor in the closet for a decade, while
crafting an impressive acting career as both action hero — the Bourne series —
and overall international film star.
But writers never quit; telling
stories is in their blood. No doubt Damon was waiting for just the right property,
and he certainly got it with Promised
Land. Once again under Van Sant’s capable guidance, this captivating drama
gets its juice from well-crafted characters, tart dialogue, a solid ensemble
cast and a hot-button scenario ripped from real-world headlines.
Damon shares scripting duties
with John Krasinski, a rising film star making good on the promise he has shown
for so many years, on television’s The
Office. Krasinski isn’t known as a writer — unless once includes 2009’s
best-forgotten Brief Interviews with
Hideous Men — but he certainly rises to the occasion here. He and Damon
have deftly adapted a story by Dave Eggers, who burst on the scene a few years
ago, with scripts for Away We Go and Where the Wild Things Are.
Good screenplays get their power from
many elements. It’s not enough to craft piquant one-liners; they must be true
to a well constructed plot. (They also must be delivered well by actors who
understand how to maximize the impact of crisply timed dialogue, and that’s
where we credit Van Sant.) The characters themselves must be interesting, efficiently
sketched and cleverly integrated with all the other players on stage. We must
care about them, either as good guys or bad guys.
Most of all, they must change —
mature, regress, whatever — as a result of what happens to them.
A tall order all around.
Factor in a desire to be relevant
— to indict a topic of the day — and most writers fail to juggle all those
fragile eggs.
Damon and Krasinski, in welcome
contrast, never err. Even casual exchanges of dialogue have consequences; watch
for the payoff on a passing reference to a little girl selling lemonade outside
a high school gymnasium. Goodness, it could be argued that she carries the
moral weight of the entire film. That
is sharp scripting.
Damon and Frances McDormand star
as Steve Butler and Sue Thomason, seasoned corporate “handlers” for a multi-billion-dollar
energy titan dubbed Global Crosspower Solutions. Steve and Sue are sent into
distressed small towns in order to persuade cash-strapped residents to lease
the drilling rights of their farms.
Steve and Sue have built a
reputation for sealing deals rapidly, and with contracts far less expensive —
which is to say, less generous to townsfolk — than other Global teams. The
pitch is a well-honed blend of smooth talk, vague promises, tantalizing references
to additional financial windfalls for the owners of “well-placed” farms ... and
the occasional bribe, of necessity.
They make a great team: Steve is
a sympathetic former farm boy who watched his own home town dry up and blow
away when the only local industry closed; Sue is a dedicated soccer mom who advocates
the value of the superior schools that can be built with the leasing payments.
Left unspoken — but certainly
known to these advance scouts, and equally obvious to us — is the fact that
ground never will be broken on such schools, because every cent will be
devoured by the financial institutions propping up everybody’s over-mortgaged
farmland.
Left unspoken, as well, is the
fact that the natural gas which Global desires — the resource repeatedly
championed by Steve and Sue as “clean energy” — will be extracted from the
shale rock beneath everybody’s farm via hydraulic fracturing, or “fracking” (a
word they’re careful to avoid).
The story begins as Steve and Sue
land in McKinley, a small farmland community in a never-specified state. (Van
Sant shot the film in western Pennsylvania.) That detail doesn’t matter; the
American heartland — and the West Coast — are laden with such towns. The Global
raiders (let’s call a spade a spade) expect a slam-dunk like all the others;
McKinley is economically distressed, its many farmers clinging by their
fingernails to property that has been in their families for generations.
But something unexpected happens
this time: a stirring of pride, wariness ... and bad timing. Local high school
science teacher Frank Yates (Hal Holbrook) leads the resistance, and he finds
it easy to stall the Global engine; fracking has become the evil term du jour, and the Internet is laden with
well-documented stories of farmland turned poisonous by the chemical brew
employed during the process. Global’s behavior, so smoothly kept under the
radar until now, is being dragged into unforgiving sunlight like a vampire
hauled from its coffin.
Although Steve and Sue already
have numerous signatures on contracts, having preyed on local anxiety, this
apparent victory morphs into a mirage when Yates encourages his McKinley
neighbors to delay their collective decision, pending a vote. In three weeks.
Needless to say, Global isn’t
happy about the delay. Adding to Steve’s agitation, he assumes — quite rightly
— that his long-awaited promotion will evaporate just as rapidly, should
McKinley take itself out of play.
To make matters even worse,
another newcomer blows into town: Dustin Noble (Krasinski), a slick
environmental activist bearing ghastly photos of dead cows and stories of tainted
water supplies.
What shapes into a massive battle
for McKinley’s soul unfolds subtly, almost delicately, via small encounters. We
get the first skirmish quickly, as Steve and Sue stock up on “local duds” at a
general store displaying a sign that advertises “Gas, Groceries, Guns and
Guitars.” We can’t help chuckling, more so as McDormand’s tart-tongued Sue mocks
the place; we share her sense of superiority.
The chuckles die seconds later,
once we meet the store’s owner — Titus Welliver, as Rob — an obviously
intelligent, if pragmatic fellow who isn’t about to tolerate smugness from
big-city invaders ... particularly those with an agenda. And yet Rob isn’t “the
enemy,” particularly when he takes a shine to Sue. Welliver’s carefully nuanced
Rob is but the first of the many McKinley citizens who defy expectations: ours,
and Steve’s.
Holbrook’s Frank Yates is another
example. Although clearly hostile to Global’s slick steamroller approach, he
doesn’t blame Steve and Sue per se;
indeed, he could use the money as much as anybody else. Frank merely voices the
doubts that need to be raised: Is the
tantalizing short-term offer of cash in hand worth the long-term risk of seeing
one’s heritage destroyed ... individually, locally and nationally?
Corporations are notorious for
having no soul; any appeals to conscience must be made to foot-soldiers such as
Steve and Sue.
Holbrook delivers a finely shaded
performance worthy of a Norman Rockwell painting, but with a modern twist:
Frank Yates isn’t merely a veteran farm owner, he’s also a highly respected
former scientist filling his retirement years as a school teacher. We ache upon
hearing his own personal “solution” to the Hobson’s Choice being offered by
Global.
Rosemarie DeWitt shines as Alice,
an effervescent grade school teacher who catches Steve’s eye — and vice versa —
until getting distracted by the far more boisterously charming Dustin.
Lucas Black also makes a strong
impression as a naïve and gullible young farmer who swallows Steve’s patter —
hook, line and sinker — and then buys an expensive new sports car on the
“promise” of money to come. It’s a heartbreaking moment made even more powerful
by Black’s trusting gaze.
McDormand’s dry delivery is a
hoot, her critical sidelong glances to die for. We’re never quite sure whether
Sue actually has a heart; she clearly plays a role in public, surrounding by
McKinley residents, yet she also keeps in loving touch with her son, via Skype,
when concealed behind the closed door of her motel room. The truth undoubtedly
resides in her view that, at the end of each day, what she and Steve do is a
job. Just a job.
Krasinski’s Dustin is a force of
nature: a seductive, silver-tongued emissary who hearkens back to the glib,
glad-handing antics of Robert Preston, in The
Music Man. Despite being an outgunned underdog, Dustin instinctively
understands how best to reach these people, thanks to a cocksure attitude that
infuriates Steve more with each passing day.
Despite the overwhelming odds,
Dustin is so sure of himself —
Krasinski makes him so dedicated, so earnest — that we can’t help cheering his
every small success.
But that’s the question, of
course: Even if Dustin succeeds, is that good news for McKinley? Truly? Even on
a national scale, are the risks of fracking worse than our continued reliance
on coal and oil, both of which have their own serious drawbacks?
Although the nominal star, Damon
generously shares the spotlight with all his fellow actors. His handling of
Steve is another in a recent line of ethically challenged businessmen in the
mold of George Clooney’s Ryan Bingham, from 2009’s Up in the Air: guys who, push come to shove, may not be quite as
callous as they’d like to believe.
Damon has numerous standout
scenes, both kind and ruthless. Best of the latter comes during a brutally
frank conversation with a local civic leader (Ken Strunk) who seeks financial
“incentive” to persuade his town to accept Global’s offer. Alternatively, Damon
turns playful during his flirtatious encounters with DeWitt’s Alice, their
verbal sparring genuinely cute.
“I’m not a bad guy,” he tells her
repeatedly, and we begin to wonder whether he’s trying to persuade her ... or
himself.
Its merits as a well-crafted
drama notwithstanding, this film has become a lightning rod for its
unapologetically critical assault on fracking. Pundits and even some critics
are “reviewing” only the message, with a predictable divide between red and
blue states, liberals and conservatives. The outrage expressed by the Marcellus Shale Coalition, as just one example, is so laughably strident that it strays
into “The lady doth protest too much” territory.
No question: This is advocacy
cinema. That said, I remain impressed by a compelling work of art that
entertains while encouraging debate on a topic that, yes, could use a helluva
lot more exposure.
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