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Changeling (Clint Eastwood, USA): 67

As I've argued for over a decade now, Eastwood-as-director, with his so-called "classical" style that really amounts to a sort of measured impatience, is only as good as his material. Here, via former Babylon 5 geek J. Michael Straczynski, he's stumbled onto a true-life tale so absurdly sensational that you can only wonder how on earth it ever fell into obscurity in the first place. I can easily imagine it inspiring a much better film than Changeling: a film in which the lead actress doesn't seem to be in constant battle with the period setting; a film that finds a way to make its two parallel stories work in counterpoint long before they dovetail; certainly a film that doesn't hand over its exposition to a good-hearted, wise-cracking hooker. (I'd feel sorry for Amy Ryan had I not just seen this.) But the fact that John Grisham can't write for shit didn't stop me from blazing through The Firm in six hours flat (in person I demonstrate by muttering "this is stupid," "this is retarded," "how did this even get published?" -- all while miming rapidly flipping pages), and likewise I cannot honestly claim not to have enjoyed this movie, even if it was strictly in a flabbergasted voyeuristic how-much-more-fucked-up-can-this-get? kind of way. And while Changeling has plenty of cornball Hollywood moments, it also repeatedly thwarts audience expectations -- if only by virtue of sticking to the facts of the actual Wineville case, which was by no means resolved in a cathartic or crowd-pleasing fashion. I can only assume that Northcott really did sing "Silent Night" on the gallows in that quavery terrified voice...because, seriously, who could make that up?

Posted on 10/07/08 by: dangelo 01:31 PM