Christine

Director: Antonio Campos
Starring: Rebecca Hall, Michael C. Hall, Tracy Letts, Maria Dizzia, J. Smith-Cameron, John Cullum, Timothy Simons, Kim Shaw
Running Time: 119 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

"In keeping with Channel 40's policy of bringing you the latest in 'blood and guts', and in living color, you are going to see another first—attempted suicide."

On the morning of July 15, 1974, Florida news reporter Christine Chubbuck drove into work at WXLT-TV studios in Sarasota ready to try something she's never done before: Lead off from the anchor's desk. Only the film reel of the story jammed and, eerily composed, she looked into the camera and read that statement above. Then she took out a gun, put it up to her head and pulled the trigger, committing the first on-air suicide. The fact that she described what she was about to do as "attempted" reveals a lot, and much of it is corroborated in Antonio Campos' Christine, one of two 2016 films about this woman and the shocking, tragic circumstances surrounding her death over forty years ago. It also brings to the forefront a debate about the extent of a filmmmakers' moral responsibility when handling controversial, sensitive material based on true events. And, like it or not, there's always a certain level of responsibility.

Ironically, this film, closer to what we'd consider a straightforward biopic in how it dramatizes the final weeks and days leading up to the suicide, shows more compassion toward its real-life subject than the "documentary thriller" also released this year on the story, Kate Plays Christine. In that, an actress prepares to play the role of Christine Chubbuck, dragging along with her all the psychological baggage it entails. But what it's really about is a director being swallowed up by his own meta gimmick, going to almost extraordinary lengths to avoid telling us the story Campos does with such empathy here. We don't go to movies to see filmmakers work through their guilt over tackling potentially tasteless or controversial subjects. Any subject is tasteless if handled wrong, so if you don't want to make it, then don't. And if you do, you've certainly lost the right to wag your finger at audiences and reprimand them for watching it.

We're not, as that other film implies, a bunch of bloodthirsty animals clamoring for a dramatic recreation of this woman shooting herself on live TV. And Campos knows we're better than that. He knows that while most care about the whereabouts the infamous tape of the event, few aside from callous "death hags" would actually be interested in viewing it. And while he knows it may be the circumstances of her gruesome end that initially draws us in, his film is full of faith that we're far more interested in exploring how and why this happened.

When dealing with a touchy, sensitive subject, Christine proves it's sometimes best not to dance around the issue and just do it. Those thinking it's exploitive will have that reaction regardless of how it's presented, so the only defense is to make a great film that finds the humanity in its subject and hope the rest of the cards fall into place. For Campos they do, and its the highest compliment to his direction and Rebecca Hall's Oscar-worthy performance as the title character, that before the film enters its dreaded final act, I momentarily forgot what she was going to do. I was so invested in this woman's struggle to fit in and function under the stress of mental illness, that I thought maybe she'd somehow pull through. But the more people try to help the further she seems to fall, to the point that what eventually occurs feels like a cruel inevitability.

When it comes to the depiction of that fateful day, there's just too much at stake to do anything but step on the gas and floor it. Holding back would be a disservice to both the person and her story, which seems as relevant and important today as it must have then. Maybe more so considering there were few who knew how to react at that time, causing it to slip from the public consciousness. Only now, with what seems like the proper amount of time and distance, we have a film that treats this situation with the depth and complexity it deserves.

As the host of Florida's "Suncoast Digest,", a community affairs talk show on Sarasota's WXLT-TV newscast, reporter Christine Chubbuck (Hall) shines a light on issues affecting the region, conducting interviews with local business leaders and reporting on human interest stories that have an impact on the everyday lives of viewers. But personally and professionally, her own life is falling apart, as she rapidly approaches her 30th birthday still a virgin who hasn't been on a date in years and is struggling with depression that's only been exacerbated by news that a medical condition could prevent her from ever conceiving children. She lives with her single mother, Peg (J. Smith-Cameron), but that relationship is strained by Christine's unpredictable mood swings and disapproval of her mom's dating habits and carefree attitude.

On-air, Christine's composed and professional, proudly wearing the label of a perfectionist who takes her job very seriously. It's a quality her friend and protégé Jean Reed (Maria Dizzia) seems to admiringly tolerate, even providing moral support during her frequent breakdowns. But when orders come down from the station manager, Mike (Tracy Letts) that the newscast is going in a sensationalistic new direction following a significant loss in viewership, Christine must readjust if she wants a shot at a potential anchor job in a bigger market. "If it Bleeds, it Leads," becomes the studio mantra as the types of positive stories covered on her segment fall by the wayside in favor of "blood and guts" TV that focuses entirely on murder and violence.

Disgusted by the station's new direction and correctly forecasting decades in advance the bleak future of television news, Christine starts to unravel. Further complicating matters is her crush on lead anchorman George Peter Ryan (Michael C. Hall), who takes an interest in his co-worker, only to be frustrated by her frequently standoffish behavior.  As she reaches her inevitable breaking point, there are signs that someone or something can intervene and stop what's going to happen. And it's then that we're coldly reminded that this is 1974 and she's not only a driven woman, but one suffering from undiagnosed bi-polar depression and working in a male-dominated industry. Despite everyone's best intentions, the help she really needs can't possibly arrive in time.

Of course, the running joke bubbling just underneath the surface of a film that does have kind of a dark, bleak sense of humor about itself, is that if Christine was this disturbed by state of television news in 1974, she probably would have torched the studio if she saw what was going on today. In that sense, maybe we should be grateful this happened THEN, but you have to believe the fact that she was caught on cusp of this jarring media transition at the time played a major role in what occurred. Though an argument can also be made that tragic acts like this have actually been happening ever since, only in a different form, and often taking on the shape of the news stories Chubbuck so vehemently resisted reporting on. But Campos and screenwriter Craig Shilowich know better than to conveniently put the blame on the media when this woman wrestled with so many other problems that eventually led her down this hopeless path.

When we first meet Christine, she's talking to an empty chair on set, fake interviewing President Nixon about Watergate. This is the level of ambition she has, even as her talent rarely seems to match it. On camera, she often appears stilted and unnatural, and while acknowledging the tireless work ethic she demonstrates to be the best in her field, there's still something's missing in the presentation. It's almost as if her obsessive professionalism prevents her from ever truly being comfortable on-air or radiating enough charisma to ascend to the pinnacle of her chosen profession. And unfortunately, anything less would be a failure too painful for Christine to possibly endure. Sadder still is that through aboout 80 percent of the film we're exposed to someone who, despite her mental health issues, is a great person who cares deeply about other people and her community. A woman who spends her free time putting on puppet shows for sick children in the hospital. And at times we maybe wonder if she cares too deeply, as we watch her overly idealistic view of the world get slowly shattered over the course of two hours.

While she has this self-deprecating sense of humor that's obviously masking more serious issues, Christine's more often than not a likable presence who seems, on the surface, to have all her ducks in a row. Therein lies the genius of Rebecca Hall's performance, which suggests from the onset that something's off. It's scary how from the very few clips available of the real person, Hall seems to nail Chubbuck's physical mannerisms, from the flat tone of voice to her posture. But then Hall also creates this walk when in the throes of this woman's many manic episodes, putting her head down and lumbering through the studio's hallway like a giant, arms uncontrollably thrashing to her sides as her long black hair drapes over her face. The description seems ridiculous, but onscreen the actress so subtly brings it to life, standing in stark contrast to the character's "happier" moments, where she appears not only perfectly normal, but even somewhat relaxed.

As Christine's personal problems pile up to the point that they become indistinguishable from her professional ones, it's clear she doesn't view the world like everyone else, lacking the emotional tools to successfully interact with people or cope with the roadblocks she feels are being put in front of her. Obviously, this results in many cringeworthy moments, including one late in the film with a TV executive that comes from a place so uncomfortably awkward and desperate that it's almost difficult to watch. And yet, you still kind of admire her moxie for doing it, as delusional and deceptive as it is.

Even as she pushes them away and isn't the easiest person to get along with, nearly everyone in Christine's life tries to help. In fact, you could even argue some bend over backwards, doing pretty much all they can considering the limitations of the era they're in and the complete lack of knowledge about her condition. It's this detail that prevents the film from becoming the depressing dirge or dreaded death march it could have otherwise been given the end result. Even the station's gruff, demanding manager, superbly played by go-to authoritarian Tracy Letts, tries to push her in the right direction while she frequently responds to his criticisms and suggestions like a bull in a china shop. Soon, their relationship devolves into what can best be described as the most hellish version imaginable of Mary Richards and Lou Grant's from The Mary Tyler Moore Show.

Christine's attempts to present "sensationalized" news stories are understandably disastrous since she just isn't wired for it, her introspective think pieces seeping through even the sleaziest stories. The best reaction shot in the film comes from her friend and co-worker Jean when Christine pitches an idea so spectacularly  ill-conceived all she can do is stand there with a look of sympathy and confusion, dumbfounded at how bizarre it is. It's almost as if in that moment Jean is revealed as the only character who grasps the true extent of her friend's issues. Jean is this constant throughout, as Maria Dizzia's performance subtly surprises in how her character silently supports throughout, often without dialogue and with only a passing glance or understanding look conveying that she gets it. She knows how bad this is and wants desperately to do something. And often she does. But it just isn't enough. Upon rewatching the film, it's almost astonishing how present she is in the background, but it isn't really until the final minutes that you consciously realize her purpose.

As the unrequited recipient of Christine's affections, Michael C. Hall's slick anchorman, nicknamed "Gorgeous George," is a more polarizing character. While there are times he comes off as a dumb ex-jock who fell into this cushy anchor spot, there's no denying he's sincere and trying to reach out to her in his own kind of ridiculous way. The script cleverly leaves some doubt as to just how interested he is and creates a palpable sense of fear as to Christine's potential misreading of it. Hall takes what should be a simple role and instead chooses to plays his cards close to the vest to make it more complicated. We're never quite sure exactly what to make of the guy and neither is Christine. Unfortunately, when that eventual realization comes, it's the final blow that takes her emotionally past the point of no return.

You have to wonder how viewers with no knowledge of the incident (falsely rumored to have inspired the film Network) will react to the ending and how shocking it'll undoubtedly seem. And it's here where we see the true value of the biopic format, which has long been dismissed as a genre that just goes through the motions, frequently criticized for not telling us anything we didn't know about historical figures or deceased entertainers. Often that's true, but what about situations like this? A story about someone no one's ever heard of or forgot, its circumstances having long-term ramifications that are very much relevant to what's going on today. This is what a biopic was built for. The finale is terrifying not only because of what happens (though that's certainly terrifying enough), but everything that brings her to the tragic moment.

There's this strange sense of serenity and acceptance on her last day, as if finally taking control and making the decision to end her life has ironically provided her with the happiness she was searching for the entire film, and likely her entire life. Obviously, this was a very sick woman, falling completely in line with the standard description of most with her condition, with one glaring exception: How she does it. In the most public way possible, almost to send a message, but consistent with this intensely private woman who felt trapped in the spotlight, yet craved attention. The cruel twist is that it didn't work, since the footage was buried and the incident largely forgotten for decades. Until now. It's oddly appropriate that the statement she reads would acknowledge an "attempted suicide," since, as a reporter with an uncompromising attention to detail, she wanted to accurately acknowledge the possibility she could survive. A journalist right up until the end.

This isn't a biopic in the strictest sense since as they often excise details of Christine Chubbuck's life that, while factually accurate, could clobber viewers over the head or come off potentially exploitive on screen. We don't need a scene of her discussing the best suicide methods with a police officer even if that conversation supposedly took place. Campos' choice of replacement is far quieter and unnerving, showing its subject far more respect by not engaging in the media sensationalism so crucial to the thematic narrative of this story. There's no teasing or foreshadowing, not only because it's amateurish or would have audiences ghoulishly "anticipating" the event, but because this is a character study with more important issues to delve into.

Technically, there's a real concerted effort to accurately reflect the era during which this takes place, especially considering how uniquely it informs the story. Shot by cinematographer Joe Anderson as if it were actually filmed in that decade, the painstaking extent to which we're pulled into a 1970's television newsroom, and all the baggage that accompanies the attitudes of the times (as well as the music), brings to mind how we were indoctrinated into the print worlds of All the President's Men and Zodiac, both generally of the same era. On a far smaller budget, this may not be an achievement on that level, but watching it, you'd never know.

The real tragedy here, and a question worth pondering long after fade-out, is how much of a victim Christine is of the era during which she lived. It's very revealing that early every newspaper article and TV report following the suicide described her as a "TV Hostess," language that today would be considered sexist and patronizing enough for anyone associated with those outlets to lose their jobs. It was definitely a different time and you almost also have to believe that if this happened years later, Christine would have been diagnosed as bi-polar and properly medicated. Then again, there's another voice permeating through the film that suggests otherwise. That nothing's changed. That if someone in a similar position was going through this today, we'd end up with the exact same result. If the accurately predicted sensationalism of the media has only worsened, what else has? Christine's final minutes suggest maybe the faintest glimmer of hope, a heartbreaking call-back to one of its more empathetic moments. Like the film, it serves as a reminder of how far we've come in understanding people, while bravely acknowledging that we still have a long way to go. 

Iron Man 3

  
Director: Shane Black
Starring: Robert Downey Jr, Gwyneth Paltrow, Don Cheadle, Guy Pearce, Rebecca Hall, Ben Kingsley, Stephanie Szostak, James Badge Dale, Jon Favreau
Running Time: 130 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

With Iron Man 3, the creative powers behind the franchise acknowledge what audiences have known for years: Tony Stark is more interesting than Iron Man and the movies should be about him. He's also kind of an arrogant jerk who never once gets put in his place or receives any type of comeuppance for his showboating. It's even fair to say that out of all the superheroes, Stark is the only one who lives a charmed existence and has yet to learn there can be consequences for self-serving behavior. This third, and best, installment in the series, explores those consequences. But the bigger story might be that we have a Marvel film that's actually about anything at all.

With a new director and screenwriter at the helm, it's a drastic departure from its misguided 2010 sequel largely because it seems interested in giving the hero some inner turmoil for a change, engulfing him in a plot that's enjoyably crazy by superhero standards and even contains a twist that's justifiably generated some discussion. My biggest problem with the previous films were how goofy and sunny they were, and on more than a few occasions obsessively preoccupied with advertising other Marvel properties. The only thing writer/director Shane Black seems concerned with here is telling a good story, with the results definitely coming through on screen. It's a shame this probably isn't the closing chapter of the Iron Man saga, because it would at least be a fitting one.

The film opens with a flashback to New Year's Eve 1999 when billionaire industrialist Tony Stark (Robert Downey, Jr.) and his latest one night stand, scientist Maya Hansen (Rebecca Hall), are approached by nerdy, disabled inventor Aldrich Killian (Guy Pearce), offering them a job with his fledgling company, Advanced Idea Mechanics. Stark not only rejects the offer, but thoroughly embarrasses and humiliates him. Killian isn't heard from again until now, showing up for an impromptu meeting with Stark Industries CEO Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow) to pitch Extremis, a regenerative treatment that's been proven to help the physically crippled recover from injuries. At the same time, a rash of domestic bombings are being orchestrated by a terrorist known as the Mandarin (Ben Kingsley), who leaves chilling and confounding video messages in the vain of bin Laden. With Tony suffering from PTSD and devoting more time to perfecting the technology of his many Iron Man suits, the government calls on former War Machine Jim Rhodes (Don Cheadle) to don the suit as the re-branded "Iron Patriot." But when it's clear that a vengeful Killian and the Mandarin are linked, Tony is pulled back into the fray, despite hardly being in the state of mind to deal with it.

One of the many things this movie does better than its predecessors is effectively close the gap between Tony Stark and his alter ego. As entertaining as Downey's been throughout as the billionaire playboy, the weak link in the entire series has always been when he puts on that suit because there's just been no escaping the fact that it becomes just like every other superhero movie. Or more accurately, like every other Marvel entry, which at this point are starting to seem interchangeable. IM3 solves this problem by wisely having him spend most of the film's length as Stark. But a defeated version, whose arrogance has finally caught up with him, as evidenced by the reemergence of two characters from his past he casually, and arguably cruelly, dismissed.

Even Pepper can't seem to stand Tony anymore, as he seems more interested in refining all the Iron Man suits he can remotely activate than paying her any attention at all. This leads to one the film's smartest scenes early on when one of those suits try to attack Pepper, marking the first time in the entire series where the suit actually seems to serve a thematic function in the plot that strengthens the characters motivations. He basically leaves Pepper for his Iron Man persona, despite being too emotionally shaken and mentally fragile from the last film's events to actually step back into the armor. He spends most of the film in limbo, having to seek motivation from an 8-year-old sidekick named Harley (Ty Simpkins). Even that, which should feel like a storytelling crutch, strangely works because Downey and the kid play off each other so well.

Since Downey is Stark for most of the film and can operate the suits remotely there are only about two big action set pieces in the film, and because of that, they actually mean something. While the entire plot revolving around Killian's technology is a little ludicrous in the sense that his motivations waiver and its results look kind of silly when visually rendered on screen,  Pearce brings much needed gravitas and sliminess to the role, taking it just seriously enough while still playing it with a slight wink. Opinions will vary on the big twist involving the Mandarin but count me among those who think it's one of the riskier creative choices made in a movie universe not exactly known for them. Without completely spoiling it, the direction of the character takes a left turn that brings to mind themes out of Wag the Dog or Capricorn One. It's unlikely an actor of Kingley's caliber would have signed on for fluff so it's a relief when the script turns what could have been a stock villain into an actual CONCEPT that represents our own fear and paranoia. Kingsley, of course, rises to the occasion with with a deliriously loopy performance that's amongst the strangest work he's done.

After being underutilized in the last film, no one can complain this film doesn't get as much mileage as possible from Gwyneth Paltrow, who takes the next logical step in the story as Pepper Potts, completing the character's transformation from loyal assistant and girlfriend to Tony into a more active participant in the action this time around. The biggest surprise is that the transition works really well. Cheadle's James Rhodes has always been the odd man out so it's ironic that in the installment they finally acknowledge his limitations as a character, he leaves somewhat of a mark. Rebecca Hall is also solid as Tony's ex-girlfriend and scientist, Maya, who despite having little screen time, is a surprisingly well developed character serving just the right function for the story. Even with few lines, James Badge Dale is memorably menacing and thuggish as henchman Eric Savin, providing the muscle for Extremis.

The only notable absence is behind the camera, as the first two films' director Jon Favreau reprises is on screen role of Tony's bodyguard turned "Head of Security" Happy Hogan, while handing over directorial duties to Shane Black, who's best known for writing Lethal Weapon and helping resurrect Robert Downey Jr's career in 2005 with Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. Apparently, this was a good decision since whatever Favereau brought to the franchise isn't missed at all here. Not only are the action scenes the best they've been in the series (climaxing in a pretty spectacular final showdown), but the movie's actually funny and dryly sarcastic in a way it hasn't been before, almost as if it's finally in on the joke. The stuff with the kid and even a Iron Man fan with a Tony Stark tattoo seem like deliberate attempts to send up fanboy culture. It definitely helps when you have a screenwriter who's less interested in making a conventional superhero movie than just doing something fun and crazy, as is demonstrated by that bizarre Mandarin twist.

While I'd like nothing more than this to be the last installment of the series and for RDJ to move on to more creatively fulfilling projects, we're kidding ourselves. As long as there's money to be made, it'll continue and everyone involved will miss the opportunity to exit on a high note. But at least this entry gave the actor something slightly different to do and attempted to explore the character in a way the previous two didn't. That little bit helped, allowing him to turn in his most interesting work yet as Stark. It won't be confused with Zero Dark Thirty anytime soon, but there was at least a concerted, if  mostly successful, attempt to incorporate some timely issues into the script in an inspired way.

The biggest relief comes in knowing that this movie is about Tony Stark rather than plugging whatever Avengers, Thor, Captain America or The Incredible Hulk sequel Marvel is shoveling down our throats next. We're so far past the saturation point for these it isn't even funny, only making it harder for them to mean anything going forward. As usual, there's that obligatory post-credits sequence they can't resist, but at least it involves an actor and character we don't mind seeing. It's a good thing Iron Man 3 works, because amidst recent sub-par efforts, it's nice to be reminded what a superhero movie should look like when everything comes together as it should. 

The Town

Director: Ben Affleck
Starring: Ben Affleck, Jon Hamm, Rebecca Hall, Jeremy Renner, Blake Lively, Titus Welliver, Pete Postlethwaite, Chris Cooper
Running Time: 125 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★)

There are two ways of assessing Ben Affleck's The Town. First, as a gripping heist thriller and slice-of-life character study that impressively rises above the usual conventions of its genre with top-notch performances and tension-filled action sequences. Less favorably, it could be viewed as a successor of sorts to Affleck's previous directorial outing, Gone Baby Gone, giving you a momentary high as it retraces similar steps in a story at risk of being forgotten 15 minutes after it ends. Both of those interpretations would be correct, which isn't such a bad thing when you consider how difficult it is to effectively execute this kind of film. That Affleck has brought this script to life so vividly makes it a little disappointing that he's treading such familiar territory, but he does his best to make it seem fresh and worthwhile. In borrowing elements from the likes of The Godfather, Heat, The Dark Knight and The Departed this is a case where the parts are greater than their sum but many of those parts are impressive. The most interesting of which are the performances, which give us an opportunity to see what some previously untested actors are capable of in the setting of a mainstream crime thriller. And whatever anyone says about Affleck as filmmaker, you can't claim he doesn't know how to stage an exciting shoot-out. 

Affleck plays Doug McCray, a member of a bank-robbing family in the Charlestown borough of Boston, whose team consists of four-life long buddies, the most unpredictable of which is Jem (Jeremy Renner), a wild hothead prone to sudden outbursts of violence. Usually meticulous in covering all their tracks when the crew hit a Cambridge bank things don't go exactly as planned when Jem's sloppiness forces them to take bank manager Claire (Rebecca Hall) hostage. They let her go unharmed, but with a cryptic warning not to talk to the Feds. After discovering she lives in the neighborhood, Doug manufactures an accidental meeting at the laundromat, during which he realizes he might actually be attracted to her and have feelings that go beyond simply containing a witness. She comes to represent the normal life he couldn't have and his desire to escape a legacy of crime passed down from his incarcerated father (Chris Cooper), and that's being overseen by aging local crime boss Fergie (Pete Postelthwaite). But with determined FBI special agent Adam Frawley (Mad Men's Jon Hamm) closing in quickly and intent on using Claire to get his convictions, his days might be numbered.

The movie is pure crime formula with the "Just When I Thought I was Out...They Pull Me Back In" dynamic at its center and the relationship with Claire and Doug powering the emotional engine of the story. Will she discover the truth? If she does, will she protect him? Will she turn him in? Can he change? Of course we know the answers to all of these questions and the scenario stretches credibility in numerous ways, but what lifts the material above that are the characterizations and performances, with Jeremy Renner leading the pack. Affleck is more than suitable in a lead part that plays to his strengths so it's a credit to how much support he gets that's he's upstaged by nearly everyone else. Based on descriptions you could be fooled into thinking Renner's role isn't a huge departure from the similarly unlikable, quick-tempered soldier he portrayed in his Oscar nominated performance in The Hurt Locker, but he makes it different. Considerably heavier and sporting a convincing Boston accent he makes Jem this remorseless thug with bulldog-like tenacity who kills and bullies not necessarily for fun, but because he's been doing it his whole life and seems to know literally nothing else. He's scariest in the final act when you look in his eyes and see he hasn't a clue he's taken an insane plan with no chance of working this far, stupidly marching way past the finish line out of sheer will and determination. Renner subtly suggests an underlying loyalty to Jem that's almost admirable, eliciting sympathy for a character too stubbornly blind to reality to realize the destruction he's causing. The Hurt Locker wasn't a fluke. He can act, owning a supporting role that shouldn't have amounted to nearly as much as it does.

An actress who deserves to be a bigger name, Rebecca Hall, is equally impressive in her most visible role yet, charting in the quietest, non-showiest way possible Claire's transition from nervous wreck to someone who has to seriously grapple with her feelings for this career crook. She's so invisibly good, in certain scenes conveying what seems like all seven stages of grief on her face without saying a word, it wouldn't surprise me if some walk away fooled into thinking she didn't do anything at all when in fact she does everything. Partially responsible for that could be the unrecognizable Blake Lively, who in the shock of all shocks acts her brains out as Jem's strung-out sister Krista, whose baby Doug could be the father of. Unlike Hall, it's a necessarily underwritten role but she fills in all the blanks of this character's history, giving us huge glimpses into what she could have been about in just a couple of piercing scenes. Both heartbreaking and repulsive, she's leagues removed from her lightweight TV persona and it's unlikely anyone guessed she had a performance like this in her. The film also marks one of the final appearances for the late Pete Postelthwaite and has a single scene that's absolutely terrifying because of how unusually low-key he plays it, an approach exemplifying why he was one of our most respected character actors.

The crime procedural portion of the film is ordinary with Hamm's character and a local sell-out cop (played by Lost's Titus Welliver) seemingly clueless and without any leads one second, then on a furious manhunt the next. While you'd figure a big screen teaming of Don Draper and The Man In Black would yield better returns and both are underused to an extent (Welliver moreso), there is a fresh spin to Hamm's special agent in that he's a complete jerk who's impossible to root for. As unlikable as Doug and his crew are, he's a lot worse, manipulating witnesses and using childish bullying tactics to get his way. Whenever he doesn't get his way he looks like he's halfway to a nervous breakdown or ready to cry and throw a fit. Hamm plays Frawley so remorselessly that he makes you want to side with the crooks and injects much needed energy into the film as it spirals toward its Fenway Park finale. That's the best aspect of the script, the ambiguity between good and bad, where the characters actions are colored in shades of gray. The cops don't wear the white hats and the criminals don't wear the black. As much as every development follows strict conventions of the crime genre, it deviates here and the movie's better for it. Pacing is also a strength as it's the rare crime thriller that seems to gain momentum as it heads into the latter stages and the two big action sequences that bookend the film impress because they're filmed in such a way that you can actually tell what's happening. We know the result, but because these scenes are so relentlessly suspenseful Affleck has us doubting their outcomes at times, or at least more interested in seeing how he'll arrive there. 

I get that Ben Affleck wants to make projects he's passionate about and this is the stuff he knows and the area he grew up in, but despite conveying a great feel for the Boston setting and its characters, the film does seem strangely impersonal in a way because of the familiarity of the material (which is adapted from Chuck Hogan's novel Prince of Thieves but may as well be based on any crime novel). He brings the scenario to life on screen as well as possible (if not better) and does a good job making you feel as if you're watching something more significant than what's actually present. Everyone can agree by now that Affleck has more than completely made amends for some of his questionable career decisions since graduating to the "A-List" earlier in the decade and has clearly dedicated himself to doing creatively fulfilling work both in front and behind the camera. Now I'd just like to see him tackle some different, fresher material.  Even aside from the performances, it's easy to see why The Town gotten the praise it has because anyone who's a huge fan of the crime genre will love it and those who aren't will have very little to complain about.