Rebel Ridge

Director: Jeremy Saulnier
Starring: Aaron Pierre, Don Johnson, AnnaSophia Robb, David Denman, Emory Cohen, Steve Zissis, Zsané Jhé, Dana Lee, James Cromwell
Running Time: 131 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

Rebel Ridge gets right down to business in its tension filled opening scene, as director Jeremy Saulnier sets the tone, showing considerable restraint with his own tightly constructed screenplay. While the amount of violence is surprisingly small considering the situation, that threat still hovers over every scene, despite it remaining a last resort for those involved. With a protagonist more afraid of what he'll do when all other options run out, the other side holds all the power, at least temporarily.  

His antagonists also don't want a mess, partially to avoid calling attention to their crimes, but mostly because racism and arrogance prevents them from seeing their victim as a serious foe. Saulnier takes a methodical route, having his characters make logical moves as suspense builds with a handful of reversals and turns. That this avoids the fate of lesser, forgettable police corruption dramas can be traced to those decisions, as well as a commanding, quietly powerful performance from its lead. 

Former Marine Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre) is cycling through Shelby Springs to post bail for his cousin Mike and buy a truck when he's hit by a police car and aggressively detained by officers Marston (David Denman) and Lann (Emory Cohen). They cuff and question Terry, seizing his $36,000 as drug money, preventing him from posting Mike's bail before he's transferred to a state prison. After the courthouse clerk refuses to help, his co-worker Summer McBride (AnnaSophia Robb) intervenes, digging deeper to pull some strings. 

Running out of time, Terry tries takes matters into his own hands by filing a report, bringing him face-to-face with police chief Sandy Burnne (Don Johnson), who mocks and manipulates him, igniting a feud that spirals out of control. But Sandy has no idea who he's really dealing with, and as Terry and Summer inch closer to uncovering a larger conspiracy, both become targets, fighting to survive long enough to expose the truth.

The roadside stop that kicks off the film is scary for how commonplace the illegal procedures and accompanying brutality seems for Shelby Springs police. Watching the two officers nonchalantly escalate the situation, it's clear this isn't their first rodeo, as much of the suspense hinges on whether Terry will do or say anything to further set them off. But we know compliance isn't the issue here, and his polite cooperation won't make a difference, dashcam or not. The cops' minds are already made up, and when this ends, you can't help but feel relief it wasn't worse, even if Terry's problems are just starting. 

One of the best aspects to Pierre's intense work are the subtle, wordless cues he gives off that Terry would far rather settle this entire ordeal in a peaceful, diplomatic way. He knows how much worse this get if he loses control, giving the police more excuses than they already have to pin what they want on him. But because his cousin's life hangs in the balance, all bets are off as he reaches the breaking point.

The frequently underappreciated Don Johnson is effectively deplorable as Burnne, inhabiting this self-proclaimed big shot who believes himself untouchable in a small town where corruption's already poisoned the well. What starts as a verbal battle of one-upmanship between the two adversaries eventually devolves when Burnne pushes Terry too far and finds out that he messed with the wrong guy. Even while openly expressing his desire to just disappear and make a fresh start, the ex-Marine isn't about to back down or take the easy way out. 

Summer's own conscience won't allow her to stand by and watch injustice unfold, fully aware of all the risks involved. Having also been through some stuff and beaten down by the system, she shares with Terry a natural instinct to help people, whatever the cost. A nearly unrecognizable Robb is phenomenal in sketching out this aspiring lawyer who's had much of her adult life ripped away due to mistakes and circumstance. By film's end, she'll wind up in a situation almost as dire as his, which isn't something viewers would have necessarily assumed at the start.

A surprisingly intelligent final act features some twists and shifts in allegiances caused by Terry's decision to stand his ground and end this once and for all. It also contains the lion's share of violence, made only more impactful by Saulnier milking the story until it eventually explodes in the last thirty minutes. It's edge-of-your-seat exciting, but even here there's a sense of consistency to the proceedings that reflects the lead character's committed pursuit for justice.

This is a grade A potboiler, but you don't walk away thinking only about the shootouts, car chases or plot machinations. What looms largest are the extreme measures this man must take to topple a crooked system rotting from the inside out. He knows that when playing a rigged game there's sometimes no choice but to just toss the board and make your own rules.    

The Bikeriders

Director: Jeff Nichols
Starring: Jodie Comer, Austin Butler, Tom Hardy, Michael Shannon, Mike Faist, Boyd Holbrook, Damon Herriman, Beau Knapp, Emory Cohen, Karl Glusman, Toby Wallace, Norman Reedus, Will Oldham
Running Time: 116 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

If it's hard enough adapting any non-fiction book into a feature film, one consisting entirely of black-and-white photos and transcribed interviews might seem impossible. But writer/director Jeff Nichols seems to have figured it out with The Bikeriders, a historical crime drama based on journalist Danny Lyon's mid-sixties stint as a member of the infamous Chicago Outlaws Motorcycle Club.

While going the documentary route may have been more expected, Nichols finds a different avenue to explore the humanity beneath this chaos, narratively dissecting the impact of a rebellious subculture that helped define an era that eventually passes them by. It really feels like the last gasp for these outlaws, evoking nostalgia for a period many watching never experienced, but probably wished they had.

In 1965, photojournalist Lyon (Mike Faist) interviews Kathy (Jodie Comer) about her time with the Chicago-based Vandals Motorcyle Club, which founder Johnny (Tom Hardy) was inspired to create after watching Marlon Brando in The Wild Ones. She recounts feeling out of place among a gang of rough and tumble riders at the Vandals' bar, until meeting the brooding, hotheaded Benny (Austin Butler). Immediately attracted to his cool, distant aura, he takes Kathy home on the back of his bike, camping across the street until her angry boyfriend moves out in a huff.

Benny and Kathy begin living together as she gets to know the rest of the club, consisting of reliable Brucie (Damon Herriman), mechanically inclined Cal (Boyd Holbrook), volatile Zipco (Michael Shannon) and bug eater Cockroach (Emory Cohen). But with Vandals chapters soon popping up all over the Midwest, Johnny's had enough, approaching a disinterested Benny to take over leadership duties. Unfortunately, it may be too late, as a new challenger emerges and angry, disaffected youths reeling from the scars of Vietnam come home. With change on the horizon, there's a good chance America's original generation of bikers will be left in the dust. 

Kathy is initially the film's entry point, but it isn't long before this whole interview format takes a backseat to the personal drama surrounding these bikers. It's actually a bit perplexing why the character of Lyon is incorporated to begin with since there's no noticeable on screen attempt to absorb him into the club like the journalist was in reality. Occasionally, Nichols cuts to him questioning Kathy in a biker vest, but that's about the extent of Mike Faist's role. It's a bit off putting at first, but once you're absorbed in the story, this inconsistent framing device isn't given a second thought.

The accuracy of regional accents will always cause debate but Comer really commits to her memorable Midwestern twang. Having no idea how realistic it is or isn't, there's no denying it adds an air of down home folksiness to a character who's supposed to be out of her element in this grungy atmosphere. But as much as the film attempts to put Kathy at its center, Butler owns the screen from the moment he appears in a performance not entirely dissimilar from his Oscar nominated Elvis turn, with a little James Dean mixed in. 

Butler's approach should seem overdone or cliche, but he's just too good to deny, capturing the essence of this introverted, self destructive loner capable of flying off the handle on a whim. He hints there's more bubbling beneath the surface, even as Kathy tries to figure out exactly what. Correctly surmising Benny needs to get out of this club before he gets himself killed, he'll do whatever he wants, even as we question whether that really will solve his anger issues. There's an equally strong chance his association with the Vandals might be the only thing left keeping him sane.  

Tom Hardy is the Brando to Butler's Dean, basically attempting a full-on impersonation of the iconic actor, which he pulls off pretty well, intimidatingly throwing his weight around to maintain some degree of law and order. But between a family and an actual 9-to-5 job, he's getting exasperated as his grip starts to slip. Even when they're not seeking it out first, violence has a way of finding them, but Hardy strikes the right balance between thuggish brute and fair, loyal leader with a heart.

The best scenes involve the Vandals picking fights, pulling pranks, riding through towns and sometimes just sitting around smoking and telling stories, as this loaded cast of recognizable faces distinguish their characters with unmistakably unique personalities. A subplot involving a group of youths led by a knife-wielding delinquent credited as "The Kid" (Toby Wallace) and the arrival of California hippie biker Funny Sonny (Norman Reedus) give the film an extra jolt as it barrels toward the finish line.

There's nothing particularly groundbreaking about The Bikeriders, but it is a well acted, impeccably shot adult drama that fills a needed niche by striving for authenticity. More Hunter Thompson than Cameron Crowe, it finds its voice through the relationships, camaraderie and turmoil among this ragtag gang of outcasts relegated to the fringes. They play by their own rules, until the real world intrudes. But like so many other touchstones, it's fun while it lasts, leaving a cultural footprint that doesn't easily fade.             

The Gambler (2014)

Director: Rupert Wyatt
Starring: Mark Wahlberg, John Goodman, Brie Larson, Michael K. Williams, Jessica Lange, Anthony Kelley, Alvin Ing, Emory Cohen, George Kennedy
Running Time: 111 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

The Gambler isn't about gambling. Nor is it necessarily about a gambler, as the protagonist doesn't even consider himself one. These are pluses since he's really bad at it and few things are less exciting to watch on screen than gambling. The film begins with such a sequence, but it's only a false alarm. The action won't be taking place at the craps tables since it's clear early that this is a character addicted to losing. He hates himself, his life, his job, and on top of it all, he's a selfish jerk who irritates just about everyone he comes in contact with, especially his own mother. With a debt finally too big to pay, he's looking at the very real possibility his days are numbered, which at least saves him the trouble of taking his own life.

There's so much to appreciate in this remake of the 1973 film starring James Caan that you can't help but root for it to cross the threshold into greatness. It's not your typical studio effort, or at least hides that it is for enough of the running time that you start to doubt its true intentions. For a significant stretch, Rise of the Planet of the Apes director Rupert Wyatt appears to throw away the rule book, instead choosing to make a dark character study about an irredeemable loser. He's the kind of doomed figure you'd find in the 70's films from which this takes its inspiration. And you really haven't seen anything until witnessing Mark Wahlberg give a Shakespeare lecture. Scenes like that and the killer soundtrack would be worth the price of admission, but luckily there are many more pleasures to be had in an effort that's gone somewhat misunderstood, though not entirely. It may slightly disappoint, but it's rarely safe and never boring.

English professor Jim Bennett (Wahlberg) has a compulsive gambling addiction that's fed by his trips to an underground ring operated by a man named, Lee (Alvin Ing), to whom he now owes $240,000. He has exactly seven days to pay it off or face certain death, which doesn't seem to bother him in the slightest. Making matters worse, he owes another $50,000 to loan shark, Neville Baraka (The Wire's Michael K. Williams), who witnessed his losing streak and actually seems to have some pity for him.

Wedged between asking his wealthy mother, Roberta (Jessica Lange) for the money or hitting up another loan shark, Frank (John Goodman), it's a toss-up who's scarier. As the seven days count down, he also forms a bond with one of his students, Amy Phillips (Brie Larson), a gifted writer who catches a glimpse into Bennett's secret world and finds herself strangely intrigued. But the clock keeps ticking for him to get the cash and clean up the mess that is his life, before someone ends it.        

If Mavis Gary from Young Adult took a job teaching at a major university, she'd be Bennett. It's just that kind of repulsive, self-loathing attitude that spews out whenever he steps in front of a class. He wrote a semi-successful novel years ago and still seems angry about it, even if it's tough to tell whether he's unhappy with the content or the fact that he wrote one. What we do know is he'd rather be anywhere else and isn't shy about expressing it, sometimes resulting in philosophical musings and humiliating public lessons for his students. He's the kind of person from which even high praise manages to come off as back-handed insults.

Three students grab his attention. There's the aforementioned Amy from Ohio who Bennett singles out as a writing prodigy because either she is, he doesn't want her spilling about his gambling activities, or he just wants to sleep with her. It may even be a combination of all three. Then there's top ranked tennis player Dexter (Emory Cohen) and NBA bound hoops star Lamar Allen (Anthony Kelley), the latter of whom is in danger of failing unless he puts away his phone in class. For sound reasons that come to light later, these lecture scenes take up a considerable amount of time and are too well-written and compelling to do anything other than completely hold your attention. Had the whole film taken place in this lecture hall, I wouldn't have complained, but there's still the matter of that debt.

As Bennett falls in deeper, he finds new ways to self-destruct and alienate everyone around him. Mid-film there's this great scene in which Amy basically propositions him to leave his job and run away with her. And there's this feeling of urgency and excitement in not being exactly sure where this story's going, regardless of anyone's familiarity with the original. While the route it takes is almost disappointingly conventional considering what's come before, the flare with which Wyattt executes it keeps us hooked, as does Wahlberg's performance as a compulsive risk-taker struggling with a real illness that's long passed the point of addiction.

Having dropped a substantial amount of weight and sporting a shaggy mop for hair, Wahlberg would seem as poor a casting choice for a college English professor as he was for a scientist running from the wind in The Happening. So it ends up being a good thing he's not even attempting to play one, but rather getting inside the head of a character more disgusted by the idea of this guy as a teacher than we are.  It's why those scenes play so well and Wahlberg deserves respect for again proving he's willing to try anything, regardless of the consequences or whether he necessarily "fits" the part on paper. Even given the critical drubbing Oscar-winning screenwriter William Monahan's (The Departed, Edge of Darkness) script received, it's understandable why Wahlberg felt couldn't pass up the opportunity to tackle such a dark, conflicted character when it was initially presented.

John Goodman may actually not be the best thing in the movie since there's still a lot more to appreciate, but he does almost walk away with his slimy, intimidating performance as Frank, whose downright scary presence casts a large shadow over the proceedings. Michael K.Williams is nearly as memorable in an entirely different way as the charismatic Neville while Jessica Lange bites into a surprisingly meaty role as Bennett's mother, who partially blames herself for his sorry state.

While Brie Larson's Amy has been criticized as merely a throwaway love interest for Bennett, a deeply developed romantic sub-plot could have curbed the refreshing sense of spontaneity the story contains. The only downside is that asking us to really care about their relationship at the end feels somewhat disingenuous as a result. The most we get to know her is in that initial classroom exchange, but it really is entertainingly written and Larson captivates as usual in the limited role, further confirming suspicions that Jennifer Lawrence probably needs to watch her back in the years ahead. And she does get the film's best musical moment, as we follow Tracy across campus with Pulp's "Common People" blasting through her ear buds. With ideally placed additional selections from Rodriguez, Ray Lamontagne and Billy Bragg as a hazy supplement to Bennett's state of mind, the soundtrack should rank near the top of anyone's list for the past year. I guess they figured Kenny Rogers would be a little too on-the-nose.    

Considering so much of what leads up to the final act doesn't make this any more a crime thriller than Ridley Scott's baffling The Counselor, it's somewhat of a disappointment that this pulls back instead of diving headfirst off a cliff, giving us the crash landing it's earned and we deserve. The funny thing about it is how certain scenes and sequences are so memorable and superbly filmed by Wyatt that it's almost frustrating that key moments surpass the total of those parts. Certain scenes stay with you and resonate, while the entire experience leaves almost as quickly as it arrives. You're never quire sure what it's trying to say because it's so deliriously crazy and moving in a bunch of directions at once.

The ending isn't nearly as nihilistic as the original's, but stylistically effective in its own right and kind of great.  You don't see this type of conclusion anymore because most filmmakers are probably too afraid it will look ridiculous. It doesn't, and that's taking into account that the groundwork wasn't even fully laid to earn it. Just think if it was. Unceremoniously dumped into theaters Christmas day, the bland marketing campaign behind The Gambler promised another thoughtless remake looking to cash in. Even taking all its problems into account, it's anything but that.
    

The Place Beyond The Pines

Director: Derek Cianfrance
Starring: Ryan Gosling, Bradley Cooper, Eva Mendes, Ray Liotta, Ben Mendelsohn, Rose Byrne, Dane DeHaan, Emory Cohen, Mahershala Ali, Bruce Greenwood, Harris Yulin
Running Time: 140 min.
Rating: R  

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

                             **Spoiler Warning: This Review Reveals Major Plot Points**  

Almost halfway through The Place Beyond the Pines a title card appears on the screen that reads: 15 YEARS LATER. It's certainly not the first instance of a massive time jump during a film, but what makes this different is the anticipation level. I can't recall a time where I ever wanted to know more about the events that would follow that title screen, as my heart was practically pounding out of my chest. What director and co-writer Derek Cianfrance accomplishes in his sophomore feature is what most filmmakers aspire to get right. Unlike anything released in the past year, it's wildly ambitious and uncompromising, spinning a multi-generational epic that seems destined for cult classic status, if not greater. For almost two and a half hours it remains tight, focused, and unfussy even as tells three intrinsically connected stories that somehow isn't based on a published novel or true crime story, despite feeling so every step of the way.

I've gone back and forth on whether to reveal the big plot point at the movie's crux and determined it's necessary in fully explaining the film's tragic pull. If you don't want to know, it's best you STOP READING NOW and return after you've seen it. While the development is undeniably a shocker, the plot development cuts deeper far than that, exceeding a simple "twist.". Killing the protagonist off halfway through the picture is brave, and while it's been successfully accomplished before, it's impossible to name an instance involving not only this huge a star, but the actor being sold as the face of the picture. Of course, that creative decision alone isn't necessarily worthy of praise. There has to be something to it and it must be a narrative necessity.

Here, the main character perishes because his reckless lifestyle and behavior was bound to eventually lead him there. And also because he has to. This is a film that understands consequences and how decisions and actions reverberate beyond those who are immediately affected to sometimes cross over generations. In this case, from fathers to sons. It's interested in the consequences of death and what that means to those left to pick up the pieces. So, yes, the protagonist is killed off an hour in, but for the remaining time it never once feels like he's gone. It's only through death that the character ends up pushing the story into a far larger context that wouldn't otherwise be possible.

Ryan Gosling is motorcycle stunt rider Luke Glanton, who travels the country performing in circuses without ever really laying down roots anywhere. His latest stop is Schnechtady, New York, where he reconnects with single mother Romina (Eva Mendes), a waitress worn out and beaten down by life. They previously had a fling and now he's discovered her baby boy, Jason, is his. Despite her moving on with boyfriend Kofi (Mahershala Ali), Luke's determined to stick around town to do the right thing and help provide for his son. He takes a job with local auto repair shop owner Robin (Ben Mendolsohn) but his minimum wage salary isn't cutting it, leading the two to pair up and successfully rob some banks in the area.

It isn't long before Luke's worst tendencies grab hold, with his volatile temper threatening to keep him  from his son and his daredevil desire to hit more banks increasing. Robin warns him, "If you ride like thunder, you're gonna crash like lightning." He ends up being right, as Luke's recklessness sets him on a collision course with Officer Avery Cross (Bradley Cooper), creating a situation where only one can escape alive.

The opening hour just might contain the best work Gosling's ever done, which is scary when you consider the ground that covers within the past few years and the fact it's actually a SUPPORTING performance. That it can be said with absolute confidence that the character he creates is as instantly iconic as his unnamed getaway driver in Drive is no small praise, especially considering the surface similarities between the two. We know we're in for something special from the film's sensational opening sequence, as the camera follows Luke from behind into the carnival arena like a cage fighter entering the octagon. He puts on his signature ripped Metallica shirt, which, as James Franco pointed out, already seems like Gosling's new scorpion jacket. And I completely agree with Franco that the character ascends to and owns rebel status within minutes of appearing, before even speaking a word of dialogue.

Luke's an adrenaline junkie who can't control his lapses of slow, simmering rage, but he's also trying to do the right thing and be there for his son in a way he claims his father wasn't for him. It's a sadly prophetic desire, as the harder he tries to do the right thing, the deeper a hole he digs for himself doing wrong. He's doomed and doesn't even know it, pushing for reconciliation with Romina that can't possibly happen regardless of whether a child is in the equation or not. And the more it can't happen, the more he pushes. Boundaries don't exist for Luke, on a bike or in life.

His boss Robin makes the mistake of dangling the carrot of criminality in front of the last type of personality who can handle it. Ben Mendelsohn specializes in playing low-life creeps. At first glance it seems as if Robin is exactly that, but he's not. I love that Mendelsohn plays him as essentially a good guy who went down the wrong path and now just seems bored to tears. He comes across as more of a benevolent mentor and friend than corrupting influence, even if a strong argument can still be made for the latter. When he realizes the monster he's awakened in Luke, he lazily tries to stop it but can't even really muster enough energy to do that. It's too late anyway. There could be a whole other movie about just Robin and I wouldn't complain, but the performance deems it unnecessary, giving us everything we need about his character while withholding what we don't.

When these two are flying high together, so is the film, as the entire opening hour is an addictive rush, filled with images, quotable lines and events destined to burn into my consciousness with Mike Patton's mesmerizing score as the soundtrack. Cianfrance really engulfs the viewer and while this is unquestionably a heightened depiction of Schenectady, accentuating both the city's positive and negative attributes, it's far from an inaccurate one considering it was actually filmed on location. From the few who have seen this, the biggest criticism has been that it suffers after Gosling exits, with the last two thirds of the picture paling in comparison to the first. But I'd argue Luke Glanton's legend only grows after his departure, infusing the rest of the story a larger scope and even greater momentum as everyone is left to pick up the pieces of the damage he's left.

The Bradley Cooper section of the saga is every bit as gripping, while still continuing and finishing what was started. While Officer Avery Cross gets his man and is justifiably hailed by the media as a hero for taking out Luke, it's not that simple. Besides being treated like garbage by his superior and fellow officers, his career's essentially over due to the shootout. That his wife Jennifer (Rose Byrne) and father Al (Harris Yulin) never wanted him to be a cop in the first place is only salt in the wound. But Avery's hardest on himself, wracked with guilt over the fact that he killed a boy's father, emotionally paralyzing him to the point that he can't even look at his own baby boy.

Anyone still doubting last year's discovery of Cooper as a major acting talent or writing it off as just lucking into the right part, should take a look at what he does here, with his most complicated role yet. What's so pitiful about Avery is that, despite the mildly controversial details involving the shooting, he really is a hero who was forced to take the action he did. Cooper plays him at first as kind of a dim bulb, until we slowly realize, with his back against the wall, that he's actually very smart and cunning. He's forced to
be.

Ray Liotta has played a lot of corrupt scumbags in his career but his Peter Deluca just might take the cake. It's a compliment to him that it's hard to think of a more recent movie character I've hated more. I hated the condescending way he talked to Avery. I hated the way he talked to Avery's wife even more. I hated his greediness. Every time this guy speaks it's infuriating, which is exactly what a great villain who gets under your skin should do. Cianfrance takes the well worn plot mechanism of police corruption and makes it fresh and gripping, raising it to the level of Greek tragedy in terms of how it affects all involved, especially those on the periphery.

That Gosling and Cooper never share a scene together and yet the film somehow still feels like their two and a half hour grudge match is a testament speaks not only to their performances, but the rich characterization provided by the script. There's this faint undercurrent running throughout that if Luke and Avery hadn't been on opposite sides of the law then they could have possibly gotten along under different circumstances. That hunch is confirmed in the third act, culminating in a final showdown that can only occur through their sons. And both are very much their father's sons and a product of those events 15 years earlier.

Try as his mother might to keep it from him, you could see how a teen Jason (Dane DeHaan) would want to eventually learn what he could about his biological father. And you could also see how when he finds out about his dad's infamous "motobike bandit," past, that he'd find it really cool and want to know more. At an age where nothing makes sense and there's very little sense of identity, that's a big thing. And it makes sense that path would have to cross with Avery's son, AJ (Emory Cohen). It's not a contrivance. Just a tightly constructed story having its last screw turned. And what a final act it is. It's here where the highly ambitious three-act structure starts to make a lot more sense and all the cards fall into place

Thanks to DeHaan and Cohen's powerfully believable turns there's never any doubt they're the sons of these men despite the lack of any noticeable physical resemblance.DeHaan plays Jason as a sad, quite loner with a short temper while Cohen's AJ has a huge chip on his shoulder, appearing at first to be every bit the thug you'd expect given the years of neglect from his dad. Like their fathers, they're much more alike than different, as both actors transcend those one line descriptions to deliver something deeper and more meaningful. They're also headed for a collision course, finishing the business their dads started, whether they know it or not.

That storytelling this ambitious and expansive could be accomplished on a relatively small budget isn't all that surprising when you consider the ingenuity of the director behind it. Cianfrance's previous collaboration with Gosling, Blue Valentine, stands as one of the few recent films that's grown substantially in stature for me since I first viewed it.  It's a bit more free flowing and messier than this, but contains the same general thematic framework of damaged people as products of unstable families. He just understands what makes his characters tick and knows how to present it onscreen in the most insightful, realistic way possible.

Repeat viewings could easily present the already gripping first hour in a new light knowing what eventually follows. Much like what Affleck did with Boston, Cianfrance turns Schenectady into his personal wasteland of corruption and immorality, where the setting informs the film as much as its characters. If merely the thought of recasting the roles didn't seem to border on sacrilege, there's enough depth and richness here to sustain a long-running television series, with writing and directing that can actually match what we've been seeing now in that medium. With as much ground as this covers, it still even feels like there's more. The Place Beyond The Pines is an epic crime drama that isn't about crime, reminding us that the best ones rarely are.