Three Hollywood powerhouses spar for screen time in this worthy but essentially cheerless yarn from director Clint Eastwood.
Sean Penn, Tim Robbins and Kevin Bacon have racked up some impressive credits between them over the years so to cast them all together in a lugubrious, narrative-driven drama smacks a little of over-indulgence. These guys dominate every scene, squeezing out even their distinguished co-stars: Laurence Fishburne, Laura Linney and Marcia Gay Harden won't have found themselves on the support card very often in recent years. Clint, it seems, really knows how to drum up a decent cast. He has also well and truly hung up his spurs and holstered his .44 Magnum. Mystic River is a million miles from Dirty Harry or Unforgiven - this is slow and thoughtful fare that offers little in the way of audience satisfaction.
Jimmy (Penn), Sean (Bacon) and Dave (Robbins) are childhood chums in Boston. After Dave survives a four-day ordeal of rape and torture at the hands of a local paedophile, the three drift apart. Their paths cross again years later when Jimmy's daughter is murdered. Dave, still suffering from the mental scars of his own tortuous past and now a paranoid schizophrenic, is fingered as a leading suspect, while Sean is the detective leading the investigation.
Jimmy, a reformed gangster, trusts more in his own methods of retribution than those of the authorities and clashes with Sean who wants to do things by the book.
Nothing original there childhood friendships jeopardised by more complicated adult scenarios the whole 'wouldn't it be easier if we could just put all our differences aside and have a nice game of street hockey like the old days' routine has been done to death over the years and much better than this, frankly.
Stand By Me is probably the best example of the knowledge-through-experience idea, where kids are coloured by significant incidents in their youth and grow up subconsciously gripped by the past.
Likewise, other films have dealt with child abuse more thoroughly than Mystic River: Sleepers, for example, is quite evidently a film of two halves: First come the pathos-driven scenes of cruelty and torture and then the predictable score-settling.
This is where Eastwood is perhaps too subtle for his own good. The scenes of the young buddies, these comrades-in-arms, are all too brief. We know they are 'friends forever' because they write their names in the unset cement; we also know that Dave is pretty comprehensively screwed-up by his ordeal, and that his mates suffer from a form of survivor's guilt because it was him and not them. But we aren't shown enough to really care. Perhaps some of the poignancy is lost by not allowing the audience to empathise deeply with the characters' younger selves.
Still, there is plenty to sit back and admire. Robbins' breakdown is slow and skilfully played while Penn's despair is graphically and intensely studied. For a good part of this movie, the two of them seem hell-bent on out-gurning each other. Penn cleans up on the anguished sobs and tearful resentment stakes, while Robbins delivers a masterclass in staring dolefully out of windows. It would be almost comical if it weren't so darn depressing.
Naturally things build to a bitter and inevitably grim conclusion that Eastwood seems pretty pleased with as he drags it out way beyond what is strictly necessary.
The whole affair is suitably gripping, well acted and commendably free from sentimentality. Indeed, there is a startling lack of incidental music throughout (which is a big bonus in my book). Instead, silence is used to great effect and gives a slightly sinister edge when scenes are teetering on the brink of melodrama.
Well crafted it may be but a barrel of laughs it ain't.
7/10
Sean Penn, Tim Robbins and Kevin Bacon have racked up some impressive credits between them over the years so to cast them all together in a lugubrious, narrative-driven drama smacks a little of over-indulgence. These guys dominate every scene, squeezing out even their distinguished co-stars: Laurence Fishburne, Laura Linney and Marcia Gay Harden won't have found themselves on the support card very often in recent years. Clint, it seems, really knows how to drum up a decent cast. He has also well and truly hung up his spurs and holstered his .44 Magnum. Mystic River is a million miles from Dirty Harry or Unforgiven - this is slow and thoughtful fare that offers little in the way of audience satisfaction.
Jimmy (Penn), Sean (Bacon) and Dave (Robbins) are childhood chums in Boston. After Dave survives a four-day ordeal of rape and torture at the hands of a local paedophile, the three drift apart. Their paths cross again years later when Jimmy's daughter is murdered. Dave, still suffering from the mental scars of his own tortuous past and now a paranoid schizophrenic, is fingered as a leading suspect, while Sean is the detective leading the investigation.
Jimmy, a reformed gangster, trusts more in his own methods of retribution than those of the authorities and clashes with Sean who wants to do things by the book.
Nothing original there childhood friendships jeopardised by more complicated adult scenarios the whole 'wouldn't it be easier if we could just put all our differences aside and have a nice game of street hockey like the old days' routine has been done to death over the years and much better than this, frankly.
Stand By Me is probably the best example of the knowledge-through-experience idea, where kids are coloured by significant incidents in their youth and grow up subconsciously gripped by the past.
Likewise, other films have dealt with child abuse more thoroughly than Mystic River: Sleepers, for example, is quite evidently a film of two halves: First come the pathos-driven scenes of cruelty and torture and then the predictable score-settling.
This is where Eastwood is perhaps too subtle for his own good. The scenes of the young buddies, these comrades-in-arms, are all too brief. We know they are 'friends forever' because they write their names in the unset cement; we also know that Dave is pretty comprehensively screwed-up by his ordeal, and that his mates suffer from a form of survivor's guilt because it was him and not them. But we aren't shown enough to really care. Perhaps some of the poignancy is lost by not allowing the audience to empathise deeply with the characters' younger selves.
Still, there is plenty to sit back and admire. Robbins' breakdown is slow and skilfully played while Penn's despair is graphically and intensely studied. For a good part of this movie, the two of them seem hell-bent on out-gurning each other. Penn cleans up on the anguished sobs and tearful resentment stakes, while Robbins delivers a masterclass in staring dolefully out of windows. It would be almost comical if it weren't so darn depressing.
Naturally things build to a bitter and inevitably grim conclusion that Eastwood seems pretty pleased with as he drags it out way beyond what is strictly necessary.
The whole affair is suitably gripping, well acted and commendably free from sentimentality. Indeed, there is a startling lack of incidental music throughout (which is a big bonus in my book). Instead, silence is used to great effect and gives a slightly sinister edge when scenes are teetering on the brink of melodrama.
Well crafted it may be but a barrel of laughs it ain't.
7/10