Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri is one of the most extraordinary films I have ever seen. A dark comedy that balances wildly divergent tones is already a rarity. But a film that matches its intense subject matter and raucous humor in such near-perfect harmony feels like a genuine miracle. With this hugely entertaining and thrillingly of-the-moment masterwork, writer/director Martin McDonagh has made a saga of violence and pathos, anger and heartbreak- a small-town American tragedy writ large. It's a film that feels achingly painful, filled with the kind of full-blown rage that will rock you to your core and leave you devastated. This isn't a film that you can just brush over and forget. For all of his absurdist tendencies, McDonagh has made a gut punch of a movie, a crushing tale of grief and redemption that is truly profound and emotionally involving.
But it's also by far the funniest movie I've seen in 2017, so full of irony and acerbic wit that you'll be laughing even as the darkness of the narrative threatens to consume the experience. Three Billboards is the rare crowd-pleaser that never even thinks about pandering to its audience or sacrificing one ounce of its vulgar, mean-spirited intensity- instead, McDonagh simply allows the effortless storytelling and pitch-perfect character work to hold the viewer in its grasp. And to top it all off, this film is led by two of the year's most incredible performances, with Frances McDormand at her very best as a vengeful, acid-tongued mother and Sam Rockwell delivering an astonishing portrayal of a complex, morally challenged cop. Three Billboards is a film that really needs no introduction. McDonagh's monumental piece of classic entertainment works on every level. Equipped with brilliant performances, razor-sharp dialogue, and a screenplay for the ages, Three Billboards is one of the first must-see movies of the 2017 awards season.
Angela Hayes was murdered several months ago. But Angela's fate was somehow even more disturbing- she was raped while dying. And the police have made no arrests.
Mildred Hayes (Frances McDormand) is justifiably pissed.
In the hopes of keeping the case in the public view, Mildred goes to Red Welby (Caleb Landry Jones), the owner of the Ebbing Advertising Company. She rents out three billboards on a rarely-traveled stretch of road for a year, plopping down a stack of cash for the first few months of rent. On the striking red billboards, she wonders aloud why no arrests have made for this heinous crime, while simultaneously directly calling out Ebbing Police Chief William Willoughby (Woody Harrelson).
Since Willoughby is beloved in the tiny town, the billboards instantly become controversial. The residents of Ebbing turn on Mildred- with only a few friends by her side, she's virtually alone in her fight for justice. To make matters worse, the infuriated mother is forced to face off against Officer Jason Dixon (Sam Rockwell), a violent, bitterly racist mama's boy who just may be the only man in town as angry as Mildred. As tension escalates on both sides, an all-out war is unleashed on the sleepy small town, resulting in fires, Molotov cocktails, and attempted murder. But beneath all of this unfiltered rage, there's a quiet sadness lurking in Ebbing, one that manifests itself in every character. As Mildred and Dixon grapple with the hate that lies inside them, the divided town is brought closer together in unexpected, even touching ways.
Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri is already being regarded by most (if not all) critics as a film about anger, a topic that is rather timely in this divisive political climate. But it's about more than that. This is a film about the displacement of anger, about ordinary people who are filled with immense rage but have no idea what to do with it. Mildred is infuriated that her daughter was killed and that no arrests have been made, so she wages an unnecessary war against the man who has been trying to help all along. Dixon is mad that his life is going nowhere (and for a few other reasons that I won't spoil), so he beats up innocent people and challenges Mildred at every turn. Three Billboards is a smart, layered film, so to say that it's about one thing is massively diminutive. But it's fair to say that this is a story about channeling that uncontrollable rage into something productive, something that serves to take down the real enemies.
You could say that Three Billboards serves as a metaphor for a certain political party in the midst of an internal conflict, or an allegory for an entire country at war with itself, but I think the film is much more interesting when examined within its own little microcosm. McDonagh makes the civil war of a small town in the heartland of America feel like a tragedy of epic proportions, one with a narrative arc that rivals some of the best stories told on the big screen in recent years. It's easy to put a lot of thematic and genre-based labels on this film, and it's even easier compare it to the work of other filmmakers. But what McDonagh has crafted here is so thoroughly unique, such a perfect high-wire balancing act of astonishing skill and precision, making it nearly impossible to classify. With Three Billboards, the playwright-turned-director has made a small story feel massive, capturing an uncanny sense of time and place, with an attention to detail that is simply brilliant.
Much of that attention is placed on the characters, who all prove to be dynamic and unpredictable in ways that consistently undercut expectations. McDonagh is dabbling with caricature here, but he almost instantly pulls the rug out from under the audience, revealing human beings who are more complex than we ever imagined. If you've seen the trailer for this film, you know what kind of character Frances McDormand is playing- she's mean, vulgar, and takes no prisoners. With Mildred Hayes, the actress finds the role of a lifetime, taking McDonagh's script and turning the passionate mother into one of the most thrilling characters of the year. She delivers the dialogue with an uncompromising precision, throwing verbal jabs that stab like knives and almost certainly leave a mark on their recipients. But while it's by no means easy to create such cutting insults, McDormand's hysterical, profanity-laced monologues are somehow less impressive than the nuanced emotional complexity that allows this character to feel so rich and developed. As funny as Three Billboards can be (and it almost always is), the sadness is felt much more acutely at times, and McDormand's performance goes a long way in that department.
But as good as McDormand is, this isn't a one-woman show, and the supporting cast is essential to the success of the film. Without Sam Rockwell's towering performance as Jason Dixon, this film is nowhere near as good, and I'll be dumbfounded if the actor doesn't find his way to the Dolby Theatre come February. Rockwell's horrendous cop is a bona fide monster for a good chunk of the runtime- he's positioned not only as a genuine idiot, but as a racist who has infamously tortured prisoners. Whether or not you think Dixon earns his redemption is a different matter entirely, and one that I'm sure will be up for debate as the awards season goes on. But there's no doubt in my mind that Dixon's arc is a stunning one- by the end of this film, he is a sympathetic character. We understand him, and we see his anger highlighted so brilliantly that it's hard not to feel for him. It's rare to take a villain and turn them into a hero over the course of a single film, but McDonagh does it without breaking a sweat.
Beyond the show-stopping performances of McDormand and Rockwell, Three Billboards features an ensemble that is downright staggering. Every single actor, whether they have a large part or a small one, contributes in some way to McDonagh's vision. There's the ever-terrific Woody Harrelson as Willoughby, a cop with an overwhelming amount of sympathy for everyone, even the most flawed of individuals. Caleb Landry Jones is having quite a year with Get Out and The Florida Project, but here, he's at his very best as the advertiser who sets this whole thing in motion, later becoming even more instrumental to both Mildred and Dixon's respective journeys. Abbie Cornish is heartbreaking, Lucas Hedges is sublime, and John Hawkes is outstanding as a truly despicable domestic abuser. And I haven't even mentioned the shockingly funny turns from Peter Dinklage and Samara Weaving, who deftly add levity to the proceedings even as the film ratchets up the intensity.
But in the end, everything flows back to McDonagh. Although he often receives more attention for his writing, McDonagh is clearly a masterful director as well, capturing the little intricacies that color this small town, while also using the camera in innovative ways (there's a tracking shot that is downright ingenious). Nonetheless, there's no denying that his original screenplay is one of the greatest accomplishments of the year so far, so full of energy and anger, rich with detail and overflowing with empathy. He manages to spin a tricky narrative web, while simultaneously maintaining a sharp focus on character, a combination that is immensely difficult to pull off. His dialogue is caustic and harsh, littered with copious amounts of profanity and enough cruel insults to last a lifetime. But despite the nastiness of its conversational prose, Three Billboards is anything but a nasty film. It's practically overflowing with emotion- the bitterness of its characters is a side effect of the tragic nature of the narrative.
In a year where we're already seeing debates about the classification of films as either a comedy or a drama (Get Out has proven to be controversial in this regard), no movie is quite as confounding as Three Billboards. And that's because it exists right in the middle, refusing to commit to either side. If comedy and drama exist on a football field-sized spectrum, then Three Billboards is right on the 50 yard line. The film is soul-crushing at times, and its emotional core never skipped a beat for me. But for every painful moment of emotion, there's a belly laugh that you simply won't see coming. McDonagh walks an outrageous tightrope here, threatening to undercut his dramatic momentum with a joke at every turn. But he never does- Three Billboards filled me with a kind of sadness that I hadn't felt in a long time, but each quip is so well-timed, so perfectly in sync with the story that is being told, that the film will simply leave you mesmerized.
This is a movie where everything just works. It's truly phenomenal, and I hope audiences appreciate what McDonagh has done here. Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri is the kind of original work that has to be celebrated, and it's a subversion of genres, cliches, and caricatures that feels downright revolutionary at times. It's a film that will bring you immense sorrow- there's just no escaping the tragic conflict at the heart of this story. But it's also a movie filled with uproarious laughter, populated with characters that feel like real human beings, people that you'll come to love despite their flaws and quirks. I hate to generalize, but it's the movie that everyone needs right now- it's hard to see anyone not being moved to laughter and tears by this film. Martin McDonagh has delivered a masterclass in filmmaking and storytelling, crafting one of the very best of the year thus far.
Three Billboards is simply unmissable.
THE FINAL GRADE: A+ (10/10)
Images courtesy of Fox Searchlight
But it's also by far the funniest movie I've seen in 2017, so full of irony and acerbic wit that you'll be laughing even as the darkness of the narrative threatens to consume the experience. Three Billboards is the rare crowd-pleaser that never even thinks about pandering to its audience or sacrificing one ounce of its vulgar, mean-spirited intensity- instead, McDonagh simply allows the effortless storytelling and pitch-perfect character work to hold the viewer in its grasp. And to top it all off, this film is led by two of the year's most incredible performances, with Frances McDormand at her very best as a vengeful, acid-tongued mother and Sam Rockwell delivering an astonishing portrayal of a complex, morally challenged cop. Three Billboards is a film that really needs no introduction. McDonagh's monumental piece of classic entertainment works on every level. Equipped with brilliant performances, razor-sharp dialogue, and a screenplay for the ages, Three Billboards is one of the first must-see movies of the 2017 awards season.
Angela Hayes was murdered several months ago. But Angela's fate was somehow even more disturbing- she was raped while dying. And the police have made no arrests.
Mildred Hayes (Frances McDormand) is justifiably pissed.
In the hopes of keeping the case in the public view, Mildred goes to Red Welby (Caleb Landry Jones), the owner of the Ebbing Advertising Company. She rents out three billboards on a rarely-traveled stretch of road for a year, plopping down a stack of cash for the first few months of rent. On the striking red billboards, she wonders aloud why no arrests have made for this heinous crime, while simultaneously directly calling out Ebbing Police Chief William Willoughby (Woody Harrelson).
Since Willoughby is beloved in the tiny town, the billboards instantly become controversial. The residents of Ebbing turn on Mildred- with only a few friends by her side, she's virtually alone in her fight for justice. To make matters worse, the infuriated mother is forced to face off against Officer Jason Dixon (Sam Rockwell), a violent, bitterly racist mama's boy who just may be the only man in town as angry as Mildred. As tension escalates on both sides, an all-out war is unleashed on the sleepy small town, resulting in fires, Molotov cocktails, and attempted murder. But beneath all of this unfiltered rage, there's a quiet sadness lurking in Ebbing, one that manifests itself in every character. As Mildred and Dixon grapple with the hate that lies inside them, the divided town is brought closer together in unexpected, even touching ways.
Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri is already being regarded by most (if not all) critics as a film about anger, a topic that is rather timely in this divisive political climate. But it's about more than that. This is a film about the displacement of anger, about ordinary people who are filled with immense rage but have no idea what to do with it. Mildred is infuriated that her daughter was killed and that no arrests have been made, so she wages an unnecessary war against the man who has been trying to help all along. Dixon is mad that his life is going nowhere (and for a few other reasons that I won't spoil), so he beats up innocent people and challenges Mildred at every turn. Three Billboards is a smart, layered film, so to say that it's about one thing is massively diminutive. But it's fair to say that this is a story about channeling that uncontrollable rage into something productive, something that serves to take down the real enemies.
You could say that Three Billboards serves as a metaphor for a certain political party in the midst of an internal conflict, or an allegory for an entire country at war with itself, but I think the film is much more interesting when examined within its own little microcosm. McDonagh makes the civil war of a small town in the heartland of America feel like a tragedy of epic proportions, one with a narrative arc that rivals some of the best stories told on the big screen in recent years. It's easy to put a lot of thematic and genre-based labels on this film, and it's even easier compare it to the work of other filmmakers. But what McDonagh has crafted here is so thoroughly unique, such a perfect high-wire balancing act of astonishing skill and precision, making it nearly impossible to classify. With Three Billboards, the playwright-turned-director has made a small story feel massive, capturing an uncanny sense of time and place, with an attention to detail that is simply brilliant.
Much of that attention is placed on the characters, who all prove to be dynamic and unpredictable in ways that consistently undercut expectations. McDonagh is dabbling with caricature here, but he almost instantly pulls the rug out from under the audience, revealing human beings who are more complex than we ever imagined. If you've seen the trailer for this film, you know what kind of character Frances McDormand is playing- she's mean, vulgar, and takes no prisoners. With Mildred Hayes, the actress finds the role of a lifetime, taking McDonagh's script and turning the passionate mother into one of the most thrilling characters of the year. She delivers the dialogue with an uncompromising precision, throwing verbal jabs that stab like knives and almost certainly leave a mark on their recipients. But while it's by no means easy to create such cutting insults, McDormand's hysterical, profanity-laced monologues are somehow less impressive than the nuanced emotional complexity that allows this character to feel so rich and developed. As funny as Three Billboards can be (and it almost always is), the sadness is felt much more acutely at times, and McDormand's performance goes a long way in that department.
But as good as McDormand is, this isn't a one-woman show, and the supporting cast is essential to the success of the film. Without Sam Rockwell's towering performance as Jason Dixon, this film is nowhere near as good, and I'll be dumbfounded if the actor doesn't find his way to the Dolby Theatre come February. Rockwell's horrendous cop is a bona fide monster for a good chunk of the runtime- he's positioned not only as a genuine idiot, but as a racist who has infamously tortured prisoners. Whether or not you think Dixon earns his redemption is a different matter entirely, and one that I'm sure will be up for debate as the awards season goes on. But there's no doubt in my mind that Dixon's arc is a stunning one- by the end of this film, he is a sympathetic character. We understand him, and we see his anger highlighted so brilliantly that it's hard not to feel for him. It's rare to take a villain and turn them into a hero over the course of a single film, but McDonagh does it without breaking a sweat.
Beyond the show-stopping performances of McDormand and Rockwell, Three Billboards features an ensemble that is downright staggering. Every single actor, whether they have a large part or a small one, contributes in some way to McDonagh's vision. There's the ever-terrific Woody Harrelson as Willoughby, a cop with an overwhelming amount of sympathy for everyone, even the most flawed of individuals. Caleb Landry Jones is having quite a year with Get Out and The Florida Project, but here, he's at his very best as the advertiser who sets this whole thing in motion, later becoming even more instrumental to both Mildred and Dixon's respective journeys. Abbie Cornish is heartbreaking, Lucas Hedges is sublime, and John Hawkes is outstanding as a truly despicable domestic abuser. And I haven't even mentioned the shockingly funny turns from Peter Dinklage and Samara Weaving, who deftly add levity to the proceedings even as the film ratchets up the intensity.
But in the end, everything flows back to McDonagh. Although he often receives more attention for his writing, McDonagh is clearly a masterful director as well, capturing the little intricacies that color this small town, while also using the camera in innovative ways (there's a tracking shot that is downright ingenious). Nonetheless, there's no denying that his original screenplay is one of the greatest accomplishments of the year so far, so full of energy and anger, rich with detail and overflowing with empathy. He manages to spin a tricky narrative web, while simultaneously maintaining a sharp focus on character, a combination that is immensely difficult to pull off. His dialogue is caustic and harsh, littered with copious amounts of profanity and enough cruel insults to last a lifetime. But despite the nastiness of its conversational prose, Three Billboards is anything but a nasty film. It's practically overflowing with emotion- the bitterness of its characters is a side effect of the tragic nature of the narrative.
In a year where we're already seeing debates about the classification of films as either a comedy or a drama (Get Out has proven to be controversial in this regard), no movie is quite as confounding as Three Billboards. And that's because it exists right in the middle, refusing to commit to either side. If comedy and drama exist on a football field-sized spectrum, then Three Billboards is right on the 50 yard line. The film is soul-crushing at times, and its emotional core never skipped a beat for me. But for every painful moment of emotion, there's a belly laugh that you simply won't see coming. McDonagh walks an outrageous tightrope here, threatening to undercut his dramatic momentum with a joke at every turn. But he never does- Three Billboards filled me with a kind of sadness that I hadn't felt in a long time, but each quip is so well-timed, so perfectly in sync with the story that is being told, that the film will simply leave you mesmerized.
This is a movie where everything just works. It's truly phenomenal, and I hope audiences appreciate what McDonagh has done here. Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri is the kind of original work that has to be celebrated, and it's a subversion of genres, cliches, and caricatures that feels downright revolutionary at times. It's a film that will bring you immense sorrow- there's just no escaping the tragic conflict at the heart of this story. But it's also a movie filled with uproarious laughter, populated with characters that feel like real human beings, people that you'll come to love despite their flaws and quirks. I hate to generalize, but it's the movie that everyone needs right now- it's hard to see anyone not being moved to laughter and tears by this film. Martin McDonagh has delivered a masterclass in filmmaking and storytelling, crafting one of the very best of the year thus far.
Three Billboards is simply unmissable.
THE FINAL GRADE: A+ (10/10)
Images courtesy of Fox Searchlight
Comments
Post a Comment