Friday, September 3, 2021

Beckett: Solid acting, inept script

Beckett (2021) • View trailer
2.5 stars (out of five). Rated TV-MA, for violence and dramatic intensity
Available via: Netflix

Although the bulk of director/co-scripter Ferdinando Cito Filomarino’s “innocent on the run” thriller generates considerable suspense — and John David Washington throws everything into his lead role — the story eventually collapses under the weight of its overly complicated narrative.

 

Beckett (John David Washington) and April (Alicia Vikander), enjoying their vacation in
Greece, playfully concoct fictional back-stories for the other tourists they spot.
Alas, things won't remain casual and carefree much longer.

Even worse, this is yet another frustrating film that stops abruptly, rather than concluding appropriately. Yes, one key issue is resolved, but Filomarino and co-scripter Kevin A. Rice leave several other hanging chads twisting in the wind, giving us no means of separating good from evil, or determining Who Was Behind It All.

On top of which, a running thread of soul-shattering grief and personal responsibility is disagreeably mean-spirited.

 

(On a trivial note, Beckett is a terrible title. Something along the lines of Nightmare in Greece would be far more appropriate.)

 

American tourists Beckett (Washington) and girlfriend April (Alicia Vikander) are vacationing in Greece: a gorgeous, architecturally stunning setting granted lavish exposure by cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom. Beckett and April are very much in love; their cute, flirty banter fuels a lengthy prologue that overstays its welcome.

 

Depending on one’s tolerance for such things — in fairness, it’s not as if Washington and Vikander are hard to watch — you’ll either get increasingly nervous, waiting for some awful unexpected shoe to drop … or you’ll become annoyed by the way Filomarino seems to be vamping for time.

 

(I favor the latter.)

 

Eventually, though — finally — that shoe does drop.

 

In the aftermath, Beckett walks along the imposing Vikos Gorge, near a small town in Northern Greece, trying to piece together what actually happened. His probing curiosity is interrupted by a hard-edged blonde (Lena Kitsopoulou) who, without warning, pulls out a gun and starts shooting. One bullet punches through his left arm; in abject terror and confusion, Beckett takes panicked flight through the mountainous Tsepevolo countryside.

 

Beckett is the wrong protagonist for this movie, which makes the subsequent second act impressively compelling. Washington isn’t a Harrison Ford or Matt Damon; Beckett isn’t ex-military or a former CIA spook. One suspects he doesn’t even work out, and he certainly has no experience with weapons. He’s just a regular guy with no idea why this is happening: no concept of the “problem,” let alone how to solve it.

 

Goodness, he doesn’t even speak the language: an additional handicap amplified by the fact that Filomarino deliberately refrains from subtitling all Greek dialogue. We are, in effect, put into Beckett’s shoes … wondering if this trio of Greek villagers will be kind and helpful, or if that police officer will prove unexpectedly lethal.

 

Washington’s performance is sublime. He’s the epitome of stark, palpable fear, his wary behavior bordering on hysteria. Beckett’s actions are fueled by confusion and desperation, rather than anything approaching a rational plan: his goal to simply stay alive for the next five minutes, and then the five minutes after that.

 

His only thought: to somehow reach the American Embassy, in Athens.

 

Vague allusions to real-world current events trickle into the narrative: citizen resistance to EU-imposed austerity measures; vying political factions with diametrically opposed “solutions” to such issues; shadowy figures looking to shape an upcoming election by any means necessary.

 

Supplementary characters eventually cross Beckett’s path, most notably a pair of compassionate activists — Lena (Vicky Krieps) and Eleni (Maria Votti) — struggling to shine the light of responsible journalism on the entire geopolitical mess. Boyd Holbrook pops up late in the game, as a dashing Embassy official whose unruffled calm and reassuring air of authority typify (arrogant?) American take-charge charisma.

 

By this point, though, Filomarino and Rice’s script has become insufferably muddy. One key event — something we absolutely needed to witness — takes place off-camera, leaving us to wonder if it actually occurred. Because Filomarino has worked so hard to make this a devious conspiracy story, it has become difficult to trust anything we don’t actually see.

 

Ten minutes later, having reached the non-conclusion, you likely won’t care. It may not be fair, but our opinion of a movie is shaped primarily by our reaction to the third act, and what goes down immediately before the screen goes dark. This one leaves a bewildered, unsatisfying, what-the-heck taste, which overshadows all of Washington’s fine work.

 

I note that this is Filomarino’s second full-length feature, as director or writer. Based on available evidence, he’s better at the former than the latter.


Either way, he needs more practice.

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