Four stars. Rated R, for frequent profanity and brief nudity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.4.19
Clint Eastwood isn’t merely a savvy judge of good material; he also has lucked into projects that required a bit of patience.
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| After being confronted by a highway patrol officer, Earl (Clint Eastwood, left) must think quickly, having just realized that the unassuming satchel in the back of his truck contains a considerable quantity of cocaine. |
He famously waited years to make 1992’s Unforgiven, because he wanted to be old enough to take the lead character. Nobody could have expected him to pull that trick off twice, and yet here he is again: age-appropriate for the starring role in The Mule.
At 88 years young, he once again stepped both behind and in front of the camera; the result is a thoroughly engaging character study, leavened with occasional dollops of dry humor … which is unexpected, given the subject matter.
Screenwriter Nick Schenk previously worked with Eastwood a decade ago, on Gran Torino. It, too, concerned a feisty senior citizen betrayed by progress, and stubbornly stuck in a past that has drained between his fingers. It’s an archetype that Eastwood could play in his sleep at this point, and yet he brings freshness to his portrayal of Earl Stone, a 90-year-old horticulturalist-turned-unlikely courier (“mule”) for a Mexican drug cartel.
Schenk’s script is inspired by New York Times journalist Sam Dolnick’s lengthy — and mesmerizing — profile of Leo Sharp, who was 87 on Oct. 21, 2011, when he was arrested by Detroit DEA agents. The five duffel bags in the back of his pickup truck contained 104 kilos of cocaine. And this was very, very far from his first run for the Sinaloa cartel.
Eastwood and Schenk wisely embraced only the crucial details of Sharp’s saga, preferring to develop a more intimate fictitious subplot with poignant highs and lows (thereby avoiding tiresome accusations about the absence of 100 percent accuracy, which have dogged Green Book and other excellent films of the past few years).
We meet Earl during a brief flashback, at the peak of his career as a farmer and flower breeder: a horticultural rock star whose efforts are prized by attendees at daylily conventions, who cluster around his booth to obtain free samples. But this fame has come at a price: He has chosen the adulation of strangers over a meaningful family life.
Flash-forward to (more or less) the present day, as Earl reluctantly abandons the now-foreclosed farm that has been his primary love for so long. As with so many other business models, the Internet has destroyed individual breeders and suppliers; Earl lacked the willingness to adapt, and now stands destitute.
Worse yet, he’s been absent far too much to garner any sympathy from his long-estranged wife, Mary (Dianne Wiest), and their adult daughter, Iris (Alison Eastwood). His granddaughter Ginny (Taissa Farmiga) is more tolerant and sweetly loving, insisting on having a relationship with him, warts and all. But Ginny is about to marry, and Earl’s sudden appearance is more than unwelcome; it intensifies the fury of Mary and Iris, angered both by his long estrangement, and his failure to honor a promise to pay for the wedding.
Wiest’s handling of Mary is a study in grace. She’s too refined to erupt in public; truth be told, she also — clearly — still loves Earl, at least to some degree. We see it in Wiest’s eyes. But Mary isn’t about to let him off easy, if at all; her tolerant smile slides from gracious to feral in a heartbeat. She’s honestly astonished, after what must’ve been a lifetime of heartbreak and unreliable behavior, that he has the nerve to show up again.
Eastwood is a similar study in contrasts. Earl’s debonair, slightly mocking ease — displayed so effortlessly with customers and total strangers — dissolves in the presence of (should be) loved ones. Earl is a Korean War veteran; he doesn’t flinch or blink when a gun is shoved in his face, but the thought of responding to genuine emotion renders him helpless.
At such moments, Eastwood radiates confusion and frailty: a man suddenly unsure of the appropriate response. Therefore, self-defensively, Earl becomes impatient and frustrated.
Which, of course, does him no good at all.
Desperation prompts foolish behavior. Assuming that he might be able to buy his way back into good graces — by honoring his promise to fund Ginny’s wedding — Earl accepts a suggestion that he get in touch with some guys who are “looking for drivers.” Earl certainly knows how to drive, having criss-crossed the country countless times while attending daylily conventions.
And, so, Earl falls in with dangerous company: tough guys who are one link in a chain of cartel operations ultimately overseen — in Mexico — by Laton (Andy Garcia). Earl expects that this will be one and done … but, well, circumstance — and greed — are powerful forces.
As director, Eastwood cross-cuts between Earl’s activities and those of hard-charging DEA agent Colin Bates (Bradley Cooper), eager to make an impact in the Detroit office to which he has just been assigned. He’s assisted by fellow agent Treviño (Michael Peña); both report to a supervisor (Laurence Fishburne) who wants results. Bates quickly catches wind of a drug-running operation far larger than anything Detroit has encountered thus far; taking that down should be quite a coup.
Cooper delivers a solid performance, radiating the seductive charisma that a successful law enforcement agent needs, in order to cajole information from malleable rogues who had no intention of becoming informants … until, suddenly, they are. Bates is aggressive but not rash; he’s also patient and dogged. He soon becomes obsessed by a desire to collar the mule that cartel operatives have dubbed “Tata” (grandfather).
In a clever bit of parallel narrative structure, Bates’ persistence bespeaks a man in the process of making the same mistake that ultimately consumed Earl, by placing too much emphasis on work.
Cooper and Peña also work well together, the latter the epitome of the loyal and resourceful assistant who’s always prepared with the right behavior and equipment. They’re also a good tag team when it comes to dry banter.
Indeed, Schenk’s script is laden with witty one-liners, perhaps none better than the exchange between Earl and Laton, when they meet for the first time. Admiring the latter’s lavish estate, complete with hot and cold, barely clad babes, Earl — nervously trying to lighten the moment — muses aloud, “How many people did you have to kill, to get a place like this?”
Laton, taking him seriously, offhandedly admits, “Many, many.”
It shouldn’t be funny. And yet it is.
Ignacio Serricchio is a striking presence as Julio, ordered by Laton to be Earl’s “handler”: an assignment the younger man loathes. And yet even Julio slowly succumbs to Earl’s cranky charm.
As with so many characters in this saga, we can’t help being captivated by Earl; his running monologs and radio sing-alongs, during his long drives, are hilarious. At other times, his wisp-like frame seems to belie the bravado he displays, when surrounded by half a dozen muscled gang-bangers. Honestly, it seems that a stiff breeze would blow him over.
Anybody who knows Eastwood, realizes that this, too, is acting.
(“Clint had to play as if he were older,” Cooper explains, in the press notes. “He springs out of a chair like a kangaroo, but Earl doesn’t, so it was fun to watch him act like a person who is up there in years.”)
As always is the case with Eastwood’s films, the tech credits are solid. Yves Bélanger’s naturalistic cinematography is well served by Joel Cox’s crisp editing; production designer Kevin Ishioka gives us a strong sense of place in these many settings, none more forlorn than what’s left of Earl’s foreclosed farm.
Eastwood has long preferred gentle and sparing scores, and he gets a terrific one here from famed jazz trumpeter Arturo Sandoval; his impeccably placed themes add just the right emphasis.
Eastwood and Wiest share many memorable scenes, none better than the powerhouse moment during the third act. This, in turn, leads to a resolution — of sorts — that’s far more satisfying than the outcome of the actual Leo Sharp’s arrest and eventual fate.
Which, after all, is the whole point of cinema: storytelling that touches the heart in a way that real life often can’t.
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