Film Review: "The Place Beyond the Pines"

Heavy falls the shadow of “Drive.”  Ever since its release in September 2011, I’ve found Nicholas Winding Refn’s poetic, romantic crime film impossible to extinguish from my memory, and the memories of many of my film school colleagues as well.  Apparently, it has seeped into the consciousness of director Derek Cianfrance as well.  In the opening shot of his new film, “The Place Beyond the Pines,” we see Ryan Gosling (who starred in “Drive”) strutting through a carnival in a tight red jacket.  This vivid, shadowy image is so atmospheric that it almost feels ripped from “Drive”—in fact, Mr. Gosling’s jacket looks like a dyed-red version of the one he wore in the earlier film.  In fact, Erin Benach designed the costumes for both films.  Yet in the main, those are where the similarities end.  “Pines” may feature Gosling as a similarly violent and morose figure wracked with lust and longing, but it soon departs from that world into deadening and depressing territory.  The film may feature some powerfully emotional moments, but it often just comes off as moody and hopeless.

            Mr. Gosling’s character, cyclist Luke Glanton, is not the only one feeling the mood.  Early in the film, he runs into Romina (Eva Mendes), a woman who in his absence has given birth to his child.  Romina has moved on with her life and married another man, but a part of her still seems to long for Luke.  She lets him spend some time with his son, Jason, and even sleeps with him, even though she refuses to involve him too deeply in her life.  Keeping them apart proves to be a smart decision on the part of Mr. Cianfrance and the film’s other writers, Ben Coccio and Darius Marder—it keeps the film from devolving into yet another faux-romantic saga of a smart character who finds the charms of an obnoxious loser more irresistible than gold-pressed latinum. 

            Alas, Romina’s decisions are not the only factors separating her from Luke.  Determined to provide for her and Jason, Luke takes up bank robbing, only to find his successful streak ended when a bullet from police officer Avery Cross (Bradley Cooper) splatters his blood across the pavement and ends his life.  With Luke’s murder (signified by the ghastly image of his face streaked with mustaches of blood), the film is Avery’s cross (pun intended!) to bear, as he deals with his guilt and corruption in the police department.  It appears that in the film, no one avoids the world of cruelty and lawbreaking.

            It soon becomes clear that this is a world where Mr. Cooper thrives.  I love Mr. Gosling as an actor—a closeup of him crying in church in the film shows how beautifully he can emote with no more than a motionless eyeball, especially with the help of vivid and colorful cinematography (Sean Bobbit, who did masterful work on “Shame,” shot this movie).  But “The Place Beyond the Pines” belongs to Mr. Cooper and the character of Avery.  What makes him such a striking figure is the fact he appears both compassionate and opportunistic.  At the climax when Avery thinks his own son might have been killed, Mr. Cooper shouts with such enraged abruptness that his rage and seem to pierce your heart, an effect only amplified when we weeps, head bent to the ground.  Yet Mr. Cooper has a knack for playing suave and cruel characters (like in “The Hangover”) and sure enough, Avery proves to be a dangerous quantity.  When he discovers corruption among his cop colleagues, he exposes them not only for the sake of justice (which he does truly believe in), but to boost his own star as he makes a bid for the assistant district attorney’s office.

            It is a mark of the film’s time period (fifteen years) that we get such a clear view of Avery’s conquest.  We see him rise from cop to assistant DA to potential attorney general and the last time we see him he stands before a triumphant crowd.  Yet “The Place Beyond the Pines” is hardly a hopeful film—after the fifteen year jump, the film checks in with Luke’s son Jason and what we find is a mussed up, drug addled kid spoiling for revenge.  Never for a minute do you think he deserves it.  In portraying Avery as neither a villain nor a hero, the film suggests that in life’s war that even evil acts can be complex because the pain of Luke’s death is shared not only by his loved ones, but by Avery as well.

            There’s a great deal of pleasure in seeing how such actions resonate through generations in the film—there’s something compelling about seeing someone like Luke as both a fully-present human being and someone who lingers as a vague legend, particularly when Jason begins to learn about him.  Nevertheless, I found “The Place Beyond the Pines” extremely depressing.  In this world, compassion is so minimal that it leaves you with a feeling of, “Why bother?”  If all sons are doomed to follow in the corrupt footsteps of their fathers (as the film clearly suggests) than what’s the point of watching the story at all?  Oh fine, I’ll say it—it’s always worthwhile to watch a thought-provoking and unusual film.  But with the exception of Avery, none of the characters are complex enough to inspire much sympathy, leaving you with a film that often keeps you at a distance, even as it reaches more passionately to capture your heart and mind.