Brave Eastwood crashes off the rails

The 15:17 To Paris

(Cert 15, 94 mins)

In his last two pictures, American Sniper and Sully: Miracle On The Hudson, Oscar-winning humanist director Clint Eastwood brilliantly distilled acts of valour and self-sacrifice torn from newspaper headlines.

The 15:17 To Paris, the dramatisation of a failed 2015 terrorist attack on a train heading to the French capital which was thwarted by three American tourists, seems like a similarly snug fit.

In a daring move designed to blur respectful reconstruction and Hollywood-glossed fiction, Eastwood casts real-life heroes — Anthony Sadler, Alek Skarlatos and Spencer Stone — in a fractured travelogue by first-time screenwriter Dorothy Blyskal.

This artistic gamble backfires spectacularly. The three lifelong friends exhibit almost no charisma through the lens and their monotone, staccato delivery of clunky, jarring dialogue robs Eastwood’s film of spontaneity, naturalism or humour.

The 15:17 To Paris explodes sickeningly to life in the climactic showdown, shot with brio on handheld cameras, but the preceding 85 minutes are an interminable bore.

Apart from a breathless final flourish, Eastwood’s direction is plodding and lifeless. He is blinded by patriotic pride and for the first time in a long, illustrious career, he goes off the rails.