No Kid Stuff

27 October 2003


Mystic River -- A Movie for Grown Ups at Last

At last, it is that time of year when Hollywood decides that it has made enough money with car chases, explosions and characters created by Marvel and DC Comics. Grown-up movie season is here, now that the studios are beginning to wonder how they'll pick up an Oscar with the teenage drivel they've put out all year. And so, "Mystic River" arrives, a crime thriller set in Boston, which opened the New York Film Festival.

Let Clint Eastwood direct Sean Penn, Tim Robbins, Laurence Fishburne and Kevin Bacon, and box office receipts are guaranteed to be high. Yet, weak writing can doom any project. Thanks to a fine book by Dennis Lehane and an equally well-crafted screenplay by Brian Helgeland (screenwriter of "L.A. Confidential"), these accomplished actors have impressive roles to play.

All the buzz in the media is about Sean Penn, and rightly so. "Fast Times at Ridgemont High" was a long time ago, and in this film, he is given the kind of role that Robert Duvall or Al Pacino play so well -- a tightly coiled man pushed too far. The Academy Award nomination is a dead cert; possession of the statue is still debatable depending on who else is on the ballot. And previews suggest his performance in a soon-to-be-released film, "21 Grams," may top this effort.

Mr. Robbins gives a more nuanced performance in a more subtle role. A survivor of a pedophile kidnapping, he is a shattered individual who says more in silences than most people say in words. Messrs. Bacon and Fishburne have less to work with since their characters are not borderline insane, yet they contribute to the sort of ensemble that rarely exists on film, being more common in the legitimate theatre.

One leaves the cinema feeling drained; the Greeks were right about catharsis. The film is smart, exceptionally filmed, and depressing. As it should be.

Home