Three stars. Rating: R, for strong violence, profanity and drug content
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.6.13
I’ll be happy when Hollywood gets
over its current fixation on dull, dour and dreary protagonists.
 |
| The first encounter between Russell (Christian Bale, right) and the malevolent DeGroat (Woody Harrelson) is accidental, and the latter suggests that it would be unwise to invite a second meeting. But this is the sort of grim drama that demands precisely that subsequent clash, under far more lethal circumstances. |
Director/co-scripter Scott Cooper
apparently intends his new film to occupy the urban noir territory inhabited by
Dennis Lehane or Elmore Leonard, where the mean streets are inhabited by
working stiffs just trying to get along, until they lock horns with giggling
psychopaths. But Cooper and co-writer Brad Ingelsby haven’t anywhere near the
narrative chops of their aforementioned betters, and this new drama plays out
like an average episode of TV’s Justified ... minus the gallows humor, and
characters about whom we give a damn.
Any kind of humor, for that
matter. I won’t accuse Cooper of attempting to out-bleak Cormac McCarthy, but
he gets close at times.
The cast can’t be faulted; the
actors do everything required of this grim narrative. Indeed, at first blush we
can’t help being impressed by a cast that includes Christian Bale, Woody
Harrelson, Sam Shepard, Casey Affleck, Forest Whitaker, Willem Dafoe and Zoe
Saldana. That’s a strong ensemble, and everybody imbues their respective roles
with emotional depth and a persuasive sense of presence.
But as the screenplay drones on,
our expectations waver. This two-hour flick is v-e-r-y slow, and it becomes
apparent that all these people are doomed, in one way or another. The best
possible outcome is surviving to be stuck in the dying Rust Belt hamlet of
Braddock, Pa., where the local steel mill — which has given honest work to
generations of blue-collar workers — is about to shut down.
And the worst? A bullet in the
brain. After a tediously contemplative speech.
The absence of hope hangs over this
storyline like a shroud; it’s accompanied by a similar absence of any spiritual
values. Braddock’s men folk work hard, drink harder, sleep like the dead and
then rise to repeat the ritual, day after grinding day. I’d love to acknowledge
Cooper and Ingelsby for insightful commentary on the fading American dream, but
that would be giving them far too much credit. This saga is simply depressing.
A brief prologue introduces us to
Harrelson’s Harlan DeGroat, a crafty, ferociously brutal monster with a hair-trigger
temper, who clearly is Nobody To Be Messed With. (So, naturally, we can expect
our other players to do precisely that.) As has been the case numerous times
before, Harrelson is completely believable in such a role; he’s the stuff of
ghastly nightmares, his devious grin far scarier than his hardened scowl.
Our hero — if such a term applies
— is Russell Baze (Bale), who seems to have made peace with his lot in life. He
has a devoted girlfriend (Saldana, as Lena) and steady employment at the steel
mill. But family matters have become stressful; Russell’s younger brother
Rodney (Affleck) has become an emotional wreck after numerous tours of duty in
Iraq, and their father is gasping away his final days, clinging to life in a
bed, having been poisoned by the very career that grants Russell his weekly
paycheck.
But before we can get much of a
bead on the various character dynamics involved here, Russell drives drunk and
causes a road accident that kills a parent and young child: a random act so
heartbreakingly catastrophic that the film never recovers. If the goal is to
alter Russell’s life via a brief prison stretch, Cooper and Ingelsby could have
concocted any number of more palatable options.
Bale, a notoriously dedicated
method actor, certainly laces Russell with the soul-deadened emotional withdrawal
that a guilt-ridden man would experience, after such an event. We don’t doubt
the sincerity of Bale’s performance; I simply wish the subsequent narrative had
better places to go.
Cooper and Ingelsby also are
sloppy with respect to the passage of time; Russell’s prison stretch could be
anywhere from a couple of months to a couple of years (probably the latter).
When he finally gets out, his father has died, and Lena has moved on to the
greater security of a relationship with the local sheriff (Whitaker).
Things are much worse with
Rodney. Unwilling to work at the steel mill, mired in debt because of an
addiction to horserace betting, he has embraced bare-knuckle boxing as a means
of keeping his head afloat. Initially, Rodney confines such activities to
matches staged by local bookie John Petty (Dafoe), who has a soft spot when it
comes to the Baze brothers. Petty’s relationship with Rodney is almost
paternal, but — alas — the latter simply refuses to behave with any common
sense.
Rodney’s recklessness isn’t
merely a cry for help; he’s far past that, having slid into the misery of a
constant death wish. The long-absent Russell might have been able to pull his
younger brother out of this funk, had circumstances not separated them for so
long, but as it is...
And when Rodney realizes that
he’ll never climb out of his financial hole with the small-potatoes bouts put
on by Petty, he insists on a high-stakes fight orchestrated by DeGroat, who
runs a ruthless backwoods crime ring in New Jersey’s Ramapo Mountains. DeGroat
and his “inbred scum” are so nasty that the local law doesn’t dare venture into
their territory.
Things go from bad to worse, and
suddenly Russell is faced with a fresh decision ... but we’d be hard-pressed to
believe that either option, at this point, will bring him emotional peace.
The film is filled with
well-nuanced, often poignant scenes; Cooper, who helmed Crazy Heart, certainly has no trouble eliciting fine work from his actors. The brotherly
bond between Russell and Rodney is close but closed off, neither man able to
get beyond the macho posturing demanded by their upbringing and environment.
That demands subtle shading, and Bale and Affleck make it feel real.
Similarly, a post-prison encounter
between Russell and Lena is deeply moving for its intimate intensity, and
particularly for the words left unspoken.
The story’s best relationship,
though, is that between Russell and his Uncle Red (Shepard), the latter a
quiet, protective presence in this family’s life. Shepard is a master of
minimalist acting, able to convey impressive emotional complexity with a
thoughtful gaze or hardened stance.
Dafoe, as well, gives a good
reading of his scrappy, unexpectedly kind-hearted bookie. We’ve no doubt that
Petty has done plenty of larcenous things, and that — under certain
circumstances — he’d not be a man to cross. Yet he’s as protective of his home
town as he is of the Baze brothers, and rightfully fears inviting any
participation by DeGroat’s clan.
We can’t help liking some of
these people, and worrying about them; the performers work hard to ensure our
empathetic involvement. But the story itself betrays our trust, all the way up
to a maddeningly vague final scene that leaves even more questions unanswered.
I’ve felt this way before, with
Cooper’s work. Much as I admired the fine performances given by Jeff Bridges
and Maggie Gyllenhaal, in Crazy Heart, it was impossible to believe that her
character would be so foolishly trusting, when it came to leaving her young son
in Bridges’ care. That was simply daft, as are many of the ill-defined plot
contrivances that coldly lead to this new film’s inevitable, well telegraphed
conclusion.
As I’ve noted on many occasions,
well-conceived characters are only half the battle. Where they go, what they do
— what prompts them to mature — is equally crucial. We must be invested in them
for a reason ... and, ultimately, Out of the Furnace gives us no reasons at
all.
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