Director: Paul Haggis
Starring: Russell Crowe, Elizabeth Banks, Liam Neeson, Brian Dennehy, RZA, Olivia Wilde, Ty Simpkins
Another excellent review by Rob Nijman.
A few years ago, French writer and director Fred Cavayé made little known crime thriller Pour Elle, starring Vincent Lindon opposite the face that launched a thousand ships and about two thousand Nazis, Diane Krueger. The ‘little known’ part is unfortunate, and as it turns out, inconceivable, as Pour Elle is a gripping, fast-paced thriller that both moves and shakes. One can’t help but feel a little reluctant then, when Hollywood decides to have a go at the material in full blown remake-style. However, if Paul Haggis (the first and only screenwriter to write back-to-back Best Picture winners) and Russell Crowe (probably his generations’ finest) are the ones doing the remaking, you might feel differently. And you should. The Next Three Days takes two hours to unravel in real time, but lasts about seventy-two in your mind. Easily. And I can tell – I waited three days to write this review.
“The worst thing you can do to a filmmaker is to walk out of his film and go, “That was a nice movie.” But if you can cause people to walk out and then argue about the film on the sidewalk..,” Haggis was once quoted as saying. Well, after these past three days it took me to digest The Next Three Days, I think I can safely say I walked out brooding on all the plot related ponderings he could have hoped for. His version of the drama that ensues when a husband and son are left behind after a woman is taken to jail for life makes for a very captivating picture indeed. And it’s exactly the pairing of Haggis and Crowe that made sure of this. Haggis laid out an intelligent, intense and brilliantly meandering journey, and Crowe instantly creates a genuine character within the first legs of that trip. This isn’t the guy who played Maximus, John Nash or – lamentably – Robin Hood. This is a modest school teacher, a loving husband and a wonderful father, who doesn’t need an elaborate introduction to convince the audience he’s just that. It’s all there in the first few minutes. And most of it is achieved without any dialogue. Crowe shows, rather than tells.
His John Brennan then, is no emperor-defying gladiator, prizewinning mathematician or jolly fat forest dweller who farts in France’s general direction, but an average guy, in an extra-average situation (so I guess it’s more along the lines of ‘a teacher that defied a system’). His wife Laura (Elizabeth Banks in all kinds of new territory) is accused of killing the woman she works for, and is subsequently sent to prison. John spends several years, nearly all their financial assets and a few chunks of his sanity fighting the system, before painfully having to admit he will not be able to get her back – legally. When Laura decides she cannot handle the prospect of spending the rest of her life away from her family and tries to kill herself, John finds himself forced to act. His love for and adoration of his wife are too strong not to risk joining her in Pittsburg’s correctional facilities. Moreover, he is unequivocally convinced of her innocence (the audience, in an important side issue of morality and partiality, is not), so he goes out on several limbs and sets into motion plans to get her out from behind the bars that are to hold her for as long as the courts he could not convince of her guiltlessness deem satisfactory – which is forever, in his mind.
The script tends to approach the ensuing tribulations John Brennan has to overcome with a veracious understanding of the real world, as Haggis keenly sidesteps your regular pitfalls. It’s possibly what stuck in my mind the most when I did end up arguing about the film on the sidewalks outside of the theater. When you send an unfledged and honest man, who has never before strayed beyond the dotted lines of the law, to fly across those confines of the system, he is not going to land scot-free. Haggis doesn’t expect him to. When John embarks into the realm of drug dealers and smalltime criminals in order to acquire fake passports and drivers licenses, he gets his ass kicked – and then some. And when he tracks down former inmate and escape specialist Damon Pennington (a smart cameo by Liam Neeson) for advice on breaking in and out of jail, his nerves and obvious dread are right there on the surface. These and other scenes effectively expose John’s inner struggle, regarding both his reluctance towards the illegal and immoral ventures, and the necessity for it, at the heart of Crowe’s haggard character. Moreover, John’s time-consuming and meticulously detailed plans cover anything and everything, which means Haggis’ script does so as well. It’s not a blueprint for springing your spouse from prison, but it’s certainly close.
The soundtrack meanwhile, performed in part by Moby, is a member of the movies’ cast in much the same way music played its role in earlier works of the director, chillingly adding gravitas to scenes already tinged with emotional involvement. In Crash (2004) and, to a lesser extent, In the Valley of Elah (2007), we’ve already witnessed Haggis’ uncanny ability to poke your affective commiserations and generally grasp your breath with unnerving displays of fundamental human emotion – neatly underscored with mostly instrumental tracks [sentimental music playing]. These scenes typically involve a bare minimum of (spoken) dialogue, focusing mainly on facial expressions. Here, it’s the way a doting mother sees how her son gradually withdraws due to dejection on account of her leaving. How a loving husband and wife are separated by the glass walls of a prison visiting room. Or the exchange of deeply meaningful looks between a distressed man and his empathetic father (downplayed impressively flawless by Brian Dennehy – who got old). Crowe’s meek and humble school teacher is at the heart of most of these scenes. This might not go overlooked come Oscar time, although I’m not sure he will indeed be honoured with so much as a nod.
Haggis in turn might see another one for Best Screenplay – he usually does. Recognition for his achievement in directing wouldn’t be entirely unseemly though. His latest can most aptly be described as a stand-alone trilogy. Act one being a very human drama about the exploits of a father raising his somewhat sequestered son in the absence of the wife and mother, act two (the obvious heart) an unnerving and grittily realistic character study of a man beyond despair, who has to address his resourcefulness, inhibitions, and above all guts to cope with the kind of troubles you wouldn’t give to a monkey on a rock. These two parts are all Paul Haggis the writer – although he does appear to know how to get the best performance from his leading man. Paul Haggis the director gets his turn to shine in the third act, which is an all-out, edge of your seat gyre of chasy awesomeness. Astute and streetwise lawmen, intense close calls, and the inevitable twists and turns of even the best laid and most intricately prepared plans, the culmination of the afternoon of the third day has it in spades. By the time the credits start rolling, you will be sore from shifting to and fro in your seat. And very much inclined to argue about the film – for the next three days. Or, you know, for about an hour. Long enough to satisfy Haggis’ intentions, at any rate.
