Three BIllboards Outside Epping, Missouri, dir. Martin McDonagh, 2017 |
My disappointment at Three
Billboards outside Epping, Missouri is only exaggerated by the success with which
it is being showered. As I rode home after seeing the film, I was sad and
stunned to think that a film in which no one is asked to take responsibility
for their crimes, no one has firm commitments and consistency of character, not
one single character is redeemable, despite the fact that they are all redeemed,
is on track to winning Oscar Awards. I have never been much in agreement with
the jurists of the Academy Awards, but the success of this film is disturbing
for a number of reasons.
Yes, Frances McDormand is a great actor and yes, she
might win an academy award, but that doesn’t make the actions of the character
she plays in anyway condonable. Her Mildred Hayes is allowed to drill a hole
through a fat dentist’s finger nail, set the local police station alight and
disfigure the face of the bad cop, and promise to kill the rapist and murderer
of her daughter, without reprisal. No one in Three Billboards is asked to face the consequences of their
actions. I understand that the film’s anti-authority politics is important –
the critique of the police as institution (which turns out unfounded) in which
a single bad apple is often to blame — but even that narrative is not
convincing when the angry cop merely loses his job for throwing a young man out
the window and beating him up on the street. Said cop then swiftly has a character
change across an edit, thus becoming someone not so bad afterall. Once again,
he suffers no retribution for his violence. Indeed, his racist, misogynist
vitriol can all be overlooked by Mildred when he tells her that he has found
the killer of her daughter. Miraculously, the two who began the film as enemies
are so chummy that they conspire to go on a road trip to hunt down the killer
of Mildred’s daughter. This change of heart completely erases all Mildred’s
convictions, and with them, my conviction about her revenge.
There is a chance that the film is a self-conscious satire
on the liberty with which people in these parts of America freely escape
punishment for their crimes in the interests of white, middle-class
superiority. But I don’t buy this argument. The unevenness of the
characterization, the badly handled discourse on race, the inconsistency of gender
representations may all be in the service of comedy and entertainment, but it’s
without social consciousness.
Even Spielberg’s hokey film, The Post, is more legitimate than Three Billboards. Spielberg might be too attached to the cute
moments such as kids selling lemonade that have no narrative use whatsoever,
but at least Spielberg has a conviction and adheres to it. Of course, I probably
don’t need to say, if asked, I would give none of these films prizes. A big
shining cast and a massive budget a great film does not make. For my money, I
would rather see The Taste of Cement win
prizes and be applauded by the glitterati. The
Taste of Cement is a film about Syrian migrants working on a building site
in Beirut. It contains real life drama and horror, rather than a fictionalized
account in which everyone gets off scot-free as they drive off to tame wild
American servicemen who committee heinous crimes. It's also a film whose use of the camera and formal representations echo the entrapment of its human subjects. But no one cares about The Taste of Cement because it’s about
the plight of poor migrants effectively imprisoned by the same world that is
preoccupied with its unconvincing revenge narratives.
No comments:
Post a Comment