THREE BILLBOARDS OUTSIDE EBBING, MISSOURI
Directed by Martin
McDonagh
Fox Searchlight
Pictures, 115 minutes, R (very rough language)
★★★★★
I suggest over-sized posters of Frances McDormand in Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, for
every studio in Hollywood. Emblazon
them with the tag line: "This is what a real actress looks like."
Place the posters in prominent locations where fast-talking pitchmen trying to
convince producers to green-light a piece of fluff starring the airhead of the moment
must gaze upon McDormand's scowling, haggard countenance. If this doesn't make
them go away, cue any scene from the film in which McDormand calls out phonies.
Frances McDormand is so astonishing in Three Billboards that the Oscars should be abolished if she doesn't
win her second Best Actress award in March. Three
Billboards is billed as a black comedy. Do not believe it. As Mildred
Hayes, McDormand delivers amusing lines, but the humor is of the acerbic,
sardonic variety. Mildred is a world weary, angry, and on a mission whose
message appears against a blood red background plastered to three billboards:
RAPED WHILE DYING
STILL NO ARRESTS?
HOW COME, CHIEF
WILLOUGHBY?
Let's be plainspoken. No film about rape should ever, ever
be tagged with the word "comedy." McDormand makes sure that you know
this is a film about tragedy—in this case, the murder of her teenage daughter
Angela, whose charred body revealed just enough evidence that coitus occurred
as her life ebbed.
It's been seven months and, in Mildred's mind, the murder investigation
hasn't been taken seriously in the good old boys' hangout that passes for
Ebbing's police department. In fact, several of Ebbing's not-so-finest are
known more for their harassment of local African Americans than for their
homicide-detection skills. This is especially the case for dumb-as-a-rock mama's boy Officer Jason Dixon (Sam Rockwell). If you've grown up in a small
town, you know the type: a stick-a-badge-on-a fool-and-create-a-monster
braggart who uses heavyweight physicality to command the respect that his
lightweight intellect can't. The rest of the force is content to roll their
eyes, cover for Jason, and try to keep a low profile. Sound like fodder for
comedy, even a dark one?
The exception to all this is the man called out on the
billboards, Chief Bill Willoughby (Woody Harrelson). Moral ambiguity abounds in
this film. Willoughby is one of the few people in the town who likes the salty
Mildred, a single hell-raising mother whose remaining child, Robbie (Lucas
Hedges), rockets between deep embarrassment over his mother's antics, his personal
trauma over his sister's death, and his love/resentment of his sixty-something
father (John Hawkes), who left Mildred to take up with a 19-year-old
girlfriend. He also physically abused Mildred, whose response to this and her
daughter's death is to develop an exterior so crusty you couldn't break through
it with a backhoe. Her tongue-lashing of a local priest is hysterical, but in a
"call bullshit" fashion. Welcome to the club, Father; Mildred doesn't
ration expletives for anyone in Ebbing. She's damaged, poor, angry, and
guilt-ridden. But is she too pissed off for her own good?
Willoughby is a case in point. He cares, but he has a deep
burden of his own. Should one single out such a man just because he's in
charge? Does this shake the tree, or foster so much local resentment that
Mildred, not Angela, becomes the issue? Anger unleashed is hard to contain and
perhaps Mildred—minus his racism—is more like Dixon than she knows. And let's
not forget that our setting is a small town in which gossip, reputation, and
strong opinions hold sway.
Three Billboards
is a cut above simplistic good-versus-bad films. Its purported Missouri setting
commands pause in a post-Ferguson, post-Michael Brown age (though much if it
was actually filmed in Asheville, North Carolina). Some have protested that
punches were pulled in the film's depictions of race, though I'm inclined to
give credit to director/writer Martin McDonagh for making it a subtext in the
first place. There are situations in the film that, on the surface, could be
viewed as comedic, including Mildred's salty putdowns and an encounter between her
and James, a local dwarf (Peter Dinklage), but the humor label misses bigger
points about the possible bonding of marginalized people. My sole complaint about
the film is that redemption comes a bit too suddenly for several characters.
Whatever flaws lie in the script are covered by stellar
performances. As noted, McDormand delivers an amazing performance that should
cheer older actresses everywhere. (She is 60. Need I remind you of how few
roles are written for women of her age?)
If we've not done so already, it's time to forget that
Harrelson ever appeared in Cheers. He
is a very good actor who long ago left Woody Boyd at the bar. In Three Billboards he delivers a
compelling performance as a man with so much on his mind that it can only
resolve in a single tragic way—and it's probably not how you expect. It's very hard
to depict an ill-educated oaf, and Sam Rockwell is superb as Dixon. As for
minor roles, Hollywood often skimps on these, but that's not the case for
Hedges, Dinklage, and Hawkes. Abbie
Cornish has a small part as Willoughby's wife, but she does much with what
she's given. Caleb Landry Jones also does a nice job as Red Welby, the head of
a seedy advertising agency. He is quite convincing as a local who knows that
not everyone in a position of authority deserves deference. Give a shout out also to Sandy Martin, as
Dixon's bigoted mother who doles out both genuine and controlling love in equal
measure.
Black comedy? I don't think so. Drama isn't always about
histrionics and big speeches. Sometimes drama is about pain masquerading as snark,
marginalization disguised as backlash, and guilt posing as defiance. Three Billboards depicts such tragedies and
one could do far worse than proclaim it the best film of 2017. One could debate
this, but wrap that Oscar for Frances McDormand, a real actress in the age of
fluff.
Rob Weir
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