I find myself in a bit of an awkward position with this one.
This is another one of those situations where, while watching the film and as I
left the cinema, I found myself quite liking what I just saw, even if I could
definitely see some flaws with it. But in-between that point and sitting down
to write this review, that opinion has… changed. It has soured. It has gotten
to the stage where I feel like I have some fire in my belly about this film,
who made it, and what purpose it ultimately serves. Not gonna lie, I’m going
for the throat with this one because I am not happy.
But before getting into the ugly shit, let’s be fair and get
into what this film gets right. Namely, the casting. Paul Walter Hauser is an
actor who immediately landed on my radar as a result of his production-stealing
performance in I, Tonya, and this feels like not only the lead role he outright
deserves, but the kind of role I honestly can’t picture anyone else being able
to pull off. At once affable, awkward and incredibly passionate about his work,
his turn in the title role is fucking incredible. Clint Eastwood has been
making bank on these kinds of real-life, hero-against-the-masses characters for
a while now, and that experience bears serious fruit in the form of this
mistreated and pure soul.
Ditto for Sam Rockwell as his lawyer/best friend, whose
introductory scenes of him and Richard bonding over Snickers bars and arcade
cabinets did a pretty damn good job of getting me on-side with these two right
out of the gate. Then there’s Kathy Bates, an even greater innocent in this
story than even Richard himself, whose sheer heartbreak and anguish over the
whole sorry situation really rings through and gives the film a lot of
emotional oomph.
Then there’s the direction and sound design, particularly in
capturing the Centennial Park bombing that made Richard Jewell a media
sensation. It carries the same comradely touch as Sully in how it shows Richard
collaborating with his fellow officers to keep things calm while getting as
many people out of the blast radius as possible. The real-time pacing of the
scene, combined with the rather low-key approach to the tone and dialogue,
makes for a very effective depiction of the crucial moment that the rest of the
story revolves around. Or, at least, so we are meant to believe.
What I said before about the casting? Yeah, aside from those
central three, the rest of it is pretty… I can’t even say bad as much as it’s
all in service to the film’s more pointed motivations. Starting with Olivia
Wilde as journalist Kathy Scruggs, in a performance that has landed her and the
production at large in hot water for its treatment of this real-life figure.
And yeah, even before it gets to the more sexualised moments, as soon as
she turns up in-frame, there is an instant impression that this isn’t a real
person. This isn’t even the facsimile of a real person. This is a strawman with
a dripping red target painted on it.
However, I’d argue that her characterisation is only a
symptom of the far bigger problem with this whole production, and it again
links back to Eastwood’s more recent string of based-on-actual-event dramas.
Like with American Sniper, Sully, and to a lesser extent 15:17 To Paris and The Mule, Richard Jewell is the story of a flawed but ultimately good man who has
to justify their own morality in the face of people the audience are quite
clearly meant to hate. The main character is given all the raw honesty and
compassion that can be mustered, while everyone else gets table scraps, if even
that much. Wilde’s Scruggs, Jon Hamm’s composite FBI agent, and every
single member of the media mob that swarms in on the Jewells’ home, are written
to be in the wrong and Clint has no qualms in making that as clear as possible.
And in a way, I can kind of understand this approach. Beyond
Eastwood’s more politicized methods as a filmmaker, I mean. His vision of the
story of Richard Jewell is essentially a large-font screed against the mass
media, fake news and, most pointedly, ‘cancel culture’. This review is already
going on for longer than I anticipated so, in lieu of a lengthy breakdown of
that last topic in detail, let’s just say that when it comes to the guillotine
of the social media age, there’s room for commentary. There’s room for
examination. There’s room for admitting that innocents get caught in the
crossfire, while still acknowledging that there are substantive cultural and
geopolitical reasons for such things happening. There’s room for depicting the
story of a wrongfully accused man that allows everyone involved to keep
their humanity, not just the people the filmmaker believes we should wholly
agree with. But that’s not the movie we get.
Instead, we basically get an extended soapbox moment for
Eastwood to rant and rave about the injustice of it all, oversimplifying
everything from the people involved to the larger events that informed them to
the point where it becomes a lie via omission. It’s a film about the cruelty of
character assassination, but only in the case of one character; everyone
else is just collateral damage.
Quite frankly, I have no kind words towards that kind
of propagandist bullshit, and honestly, the effective characterisation of
Richard Jewell on-screen only makes that even worse. He’s shown as someone who
knows his way around the penal code, who holds his own against the media
shitstorm, and even in the face of being interrogated for something he didn’t
do, he still holds onto his belief that the American justice system is the way
it is for a reason. He doesn’t dwell in bombastic self-righteousness because he
understands the system and holds onto his respect for the works of the law. I
don’t even agree with him on all of that, but because of how he is depicted,
warts and all, I at least understand his viewpoint.
In short, he comes across like the kind of person who would probably
take issue with his life story being contorted to blast off at everyone who
wanted him convicted, showing a level of bloody-mindedness that Richard himself
actively abstains from.
And because of that, I’m not happy with it either. It made
me care about Richard Jewell’s plight, and it certainly delivered as a breakout
starring role for Paul Walter Hauser, but that only made me realise that he
deserved better than this shit. Hell, considering its thematic
similarities to Eastwood’s more recent work, it might have even crossed that
Wonder Wheel line and made me realise just how much I do not like this man’s
sensibilities as a filmmaker. This is a hypocritical, agenda-fuelled and
ultimately kind of contemptable production, and a showing of Eastwood’s
artistry at its ugliest.
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