Eastwood takes risks
In ‘15:17 to Paris,’ he casts French train heroes in real-life roles
At the tender age of 87, Clint Eastwood is unafraid to take a risk — demonstrated most recently and notoriously by talking to that empty Obama chair at the 2012 Republican National Convention. It’s all about “reality TV” these days, in and out of politics: The most intriguing thing about his new film, “The 15:17 to Paris,” is the surprise casting of its three reallife heroes as themselves.
Give Mr. Eastwood credit for the sheer audacity of enlisting Spencer Stone,Anthony Sadler and Alek Skarlatos to re-enact their actual roles in taking down a blessedly clumsy railroad terrorist in 2015. All three are as likable on screen as they were commendable on the train, even if they’re unlikely to find themselves besieged by talent scoutswaving long-term contracts.
We forgive them their thespic trespasses — and anything else they might do wrong in life — for the one huge lifeaffirming thing they did right.
We might less easily forgive Mr. Eastwood, not so much for the casting as for pushing his luck with this second straight attempt at an action-suspense story whose outcome we all know in advance.
It begins in 2005, when the two mischievous white boys and a smart-ass black kid become pals at a Christian school in Sacramento, Calif., on their way to and from the principal’s office. All three are age appropriately combat-obsessed: “Something about war, man!”
Spence’s and Alek’s moms (Judy Greer and Jenna Fischer) suffer the bleeding stigmata of single mothers, worrying that their boys aren’t wellbehaved or focused enough to succeed at anything. The kids are soon split up by circumstances, but they permanently stay in touch. Spencer transforms from pudgy youth to potent warrior, in eager pursuit of his dream to become an Air Force para-rescuer. Alek joins the National Guard and sees brief service in Afghanistan. Anthony’s a relative slacker, mostly watching sports. But they make Skype plans to meet in Europe for a stereotypical guy’s holiday: the Colosseum in Italy, beer in Germany, disco chicks in Amsterdam — last stop, Paris.
This leisurely back story occupies some two-thirds of the running time before the clock strikes Aug. 21, 2015 — on the 15:17 train from Amsterdam to Paris — when the unwavering friendship of three courageous young Americans helps save 550 passenger lives.
Mr. Stone has the lead and the spark — with his rosy cheeks and guileless, slightly crazed eyes. It’s not the acting that’s the problem here. It’s Dorothy Blyskal’s pedestrian screenplay — a slow locomotive, indeed, based on the three men’s joint memoir. Her clunky tropes include Spencer musing about life’s mysterious purpose but exclude any hint of the terrorist’s motivation or whether the train’s engineer is ever informed of what’s going on.
The brief but exciting climax almost, but not quite, redeems such deficiencies. Mr. Eastwood can’t resist a lengthy epilogue conveniently utilizing documentary footage of French
President Francois Hollande handing out awards for bravery. It saves a fistful of dollars.
Mr. Eastwood’s 36th feature film as director is no match for his soulful “Sully” (2016) or “American Sniper” (2014) or even — waaay before those — “Dirty Harry”
inter alia entries on his favorite theme: men who take action when they have to.
But at this point, there’s a certain repellent hubris about his patriotic formula: Make America grate again, on the rest of the world, in paint-by-numbers (red, white and blue), which happen to be the same as the Tri couleur — not that Mr. Eastwood makes any use or reference to that.
No French connection here. Why give them any credit? FYI: The first two heroes on the train — the one who was shot and the one who wrenched the terrorist’s assault rifle away from him — were both Frenchmen. The latter declined the Légion d’honneur medal and asked to remain anonymous, fearing reprisals from radical Islamists living in France.
Well, we should acknowledge Mr. Eastwood’s uncharacteristic restraint in not doing any Muslim bashing. But, in the end, this docudrama is largely a curiosity piece. Its real-life casting deprives it of a Bradley Cooper or Tom Hanks to bring it to really cinematic life. I never thought I’d say this, but — where’s the Hollywood artifice when we need it?