Faith-based films always run the risk of becoming too sentimental, maudlin and sappy.
To her credit, writer/director Rosalind Ross doesn’t fall into that trap here … at least, not until the final act. But even those heart-tugging details are justified by what befell the actual Stuart Long, who endured — and surmounted — a series of setbacks akin to the trials of Job.
Although deeply steeped in Catholicism, Ross’ adaptation of Long’s life is more redemption saga than crisis of faith … because, as portrayed here, Stu Long (Mark Wahlberg) hasn’t a shred of faith to begin with.
While trying hard to turn his life around, Stuart Long (Mark Wahlberg, foreground) tries
to make amends with his long-estranged father (Mel Gibson), with less than ideal results.
This is more the saga of two hard-charging, unrepentant ruffians — father and son — who, initially against their will, are forced to confront and re-evaluate their many shortcomings.
Initially, then, Stu and his father Bill (Mel Gibson) have a great time boozing and brawling, showing little regard for fellow man (or woman), while spouting a relentless stream of self-serving, profanity-laden social and theological “observations” that are — in fairness — quite funny at times.
Assuming, of course, that one can get past the coarse, egotistical misogyny.
The story begins in a working-class Montana community, where Stu is on the last legs of a minor boxing career, which brought in just enough money to keep him and his mother, Kathleen (Jacki Weaver), modestly fed, clothed and sheltered. But the battering has taken its toll, and wrought enough damage to become life-threatening, should he return to the ring.
On impulse, without a scintilla of performance experience — and to the dismay of his mother — Stu heads to Los Angeles, with dreams of Hollywood stardom dancing in his eyes. This also happens to be where the long-estranged Bill landed, although Stu has no intention of looking up his old man. At least, not initially.
Casting calls go nowhere; Stu winds up working in a supermarket meat department. One day he chances to spot Carmen (Teresa Ruiz), a Catholic Sunday school teacher who easily — even curtly — rebuffs his efforts at bad-boy charm. Not one to take a hint, and determined to win her over, the longtime agnostic begins attending her church.
But it won’t be anywhere near that easy. Aside from having to navigate her rigid Catholic chastity, Stu has to deal with her equally strict parents, along with the church’s priest, Father Garcia (Carlos Leal). The latter hasn’t the faintest idea how to cope with this interloper, and Stu’s first clumsy attempt at confession becomes a profanity-laden failure.
Despite Stu’s smug appeal — Wahlberg never has been short on charisma — it’s difficult to like the guy thus far. His churchgoing is superficial and self-serving, as befits Stu’s inherent nature; we can’t help feeling he just wants to score with Carmen … after which, what?
His one redeeming quality is a quick mind and willingness to challenge the (to him) absurdity of faith in God, with a series of hard questions; despite herself, Carmen is impressed by his curiosity, and intrigued by the scope of his doubt. (Father Garcia, less so.) Stu also gains an ally in Ham (Aaron Moten), a fellow church newbie with plans for service to God, who senses decency buried somewhere within Stu’s rough-and-tumble exterior.
But it’s taking too long; Stu slides back into bad behavior, ignoring the wise advice of an unusual barfly (Niko Nicotera, clearly depicted as a Christ figure). Nearing bottom, Stu re-unites with his father under less than ideal circumstances, at which point we get a better sense of Bill’s past as a self-centered lout who long ago abandoned his wife and son.
Then … catastrophe. (Quite the throat-clutching stunner, as depicted here.)
In the aftermath, an epiphany seems inevitable.
Again to Ross’ credit, it doesn’t come immediately, particularly not in Bill’s case; he must be dragged, kicking and protesting all the way, into revealing any finer qualities. Yes, there’s plenty of engaging drama built into what follows, as these two men struggle to become better versions of themselves; even small improvements prompt a smile.
The story’s heart, however, comes from Weaver and Ruiz. The former — Oscar-nominated for her sensational supporting roles in Animal Kingdom and Silver Linings Playbook — is heartbreaking as Kathleen, a doting mother trying her best to deal with Stu’s erratic, frequently self-destructive nature, often with hilariously absurd suggestions and non-sequiturs.
Kathleen also is terrified of losing her only remaining child. (Stu’s brother died young, which apparently splintered the family.) Makeup askew, eyes often glittering with tears, she forever seems at the end of her rope … and yet somehow musters the strength to handle each new setback. Weaver’s performance is so raw, so persuasive, that it’s painful.
Ruiz, in contrast, makes Carmen a caring, gentle and nurturing soul: always quick to say and do the right thing. At a particularly emotion-laden moment, having only just met Bill, she surprises him (and us) by offering to drive him home. The astonished look on Gibson’s face is priceless; this man can’t even conceive of such spontaneous kindness, let alone be the recipient of same.
Malcolm McDowell is equally memorable — so perfectly nuanced — as the monsignor who plays a crucial role in the final arc of Stu’s life.
All well and good … but now we get to the this film’s less palatable aspects.
(Spoiler alert: Stop reading now, if you’d prefer to enjoy this movie as “just a movie.”)
This is Ross’ first time helming a film, and it shows; her staging of scenes often is clumsy, and she relies far too heavily on the relentless, tight-tight-tight close-ups that are a hallmark of directors who trust neither their actors, nor their audience.
More damningly, her shamefully contrived script’s relationship to the actual Stuart Long’s life is fleeting at best, and insulting at worst; this carries “artistic license” much too far. For starters, there’s no indication Long — and/or his father — were as uncouth, profane or hard-drinking as depicted here. I can’t imagine how people who knew Stuart, will react to this film.
He was a 1985 Golden Gloves heavyweight champion in Montana (until, yes, emergency surgery derailed that career). And while he did then try for acting fame in Los Angeles, and briefly took some seedy jobs to pay the bills, he subsequently worked for Pasadena’s Norton Simon Museum, where he rose to become manager for seven years (hardly a position Wahlberg’s portrayal of the man ever could have held!).
It just gets worse; curious readers are encouraged to read any of Long’s obituaries.
More than anything else, then, this film clearly is a cynical, self-serving effort to redeem Wahlberg and Gibson, via the characters they play here: a goal that becomes obvious with the knowledge that Ross has been Gibson’s girlfriend since 2014. Both actors are legendary for their atrocious off-camera behavior, to a degree that has made the old mantra — “Admire the art, not the artist” — quite difficult.
Even Weaver is a calculated choice; she and Gibson go back 40 years.
On its own merits, then, Father Stu is a modestly entertaining — if coarse — redemption saga that does a good job, during its final act, of tugging at the tear ducts.
Alas, those who wonder why certain films get made, may be less charitable.
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