Mystic River (2003)

Twenty-five years ago, two young boys watched helplessly as a man posing as a police officer casually kidnapped their best friend, Dave Boyle. Though he was eventually recovered, the horrors he experienced during his captivity transformed him into a frightened, distrusting shell of a man (played with the utmost sincerity by Tim Robbins). The other boys were changed as well. Sean Devine (Kevin Bacon) went on to become a detective, working to bring the sorts of deviants who would commit such unthinkable acts to justice. Jimmy Markum (Sean Penn) took another path altogether, that of a roughneck criminal all-too-willing to dispense his own brand of justice. But after drifting apart and losing touch over the years, their worlds collide when Jimmy's daughter (Emmy Rossum) is murdered, Sean is assigned to the case, and Dave turns out to be one of the few people who saw the girl the night she was killed. As Jimmy and his wife Annabeth (Laura Linney) reel from the news of their daughter's death, Sean tries to keep the ex-con from interfering with his investigation and skirting the legal system. Elsewhere, Dave begins to warrant his wife's (Marcia Gay Harden) suspicions and inadvertently attract the attention of Sean's partner (Laurence Fishburne). But could a victim of childhood molestation really turn into a monster capable of killing a teenage girl? Can a temperamental criminal resist the urge to find and punish his daughter's murderer? Can a detective struggling with his own personal issues find a way to rekindle his tattered relationships?

The magnitude of Mystic River's power lies in its performances. Penn practically disembowels himself on camera, peeling back the raw layers of his soul in one of the most vulnerable, uncomfortable, and honest portrayals I've ever seen. As he descends further and further into mourning, he summons the strength to give more and more, oftentimes losing himself in the process. Suffice to say, he makes it increasingly difficult to remember we're watching a masterclass actor work rather than witnessing the emotional upheaval of a distraught father. Robbins is the antithesis of Penn, forcing his gut-wrenching anguish inward as deftly as Penn allows his to seep outward. He leaves the question of his character's innocence or guilt in a constant state of flux – it's clear something isn't quite right with Dave's stories, but it's entirely unclear as to what, if anything, he had to do with the death of Jimmy's daughter – and he never allows anything other than remorse or empathy to manifest itself on his face. Make no mistake: without such control, without such command of his every tick and expression, the film's whodunit would be anything but. And while it would be easy to overlook Bacon (the Academy did), his is the most thankless role; one of the few that doesn't come with a juicy buffet to sample. Sean is a more introspective, less convoluted piece of the puzzle; an everyman who sometimes has little more to do than react to the outbursts and confessions of his dramatic brethren. But don't be fooled. Bacon takes what could have been a throwaway role and exudes pathos and gravitas where others would merely raise an eyebrow or shrug a shoulder. He allows his performance to linger just behind his eyes, and even upstages his Oscar-winning castmates on occasion.

Everything else seems to fall in place around them. Eastwood is as commanding a director as ever, finding beauty in the ordinary, nuance in the simplistic, and grace in the unredeemable. Helgeland's script is a simmering, perfectly plotted adaptation that manages to balance the finer points of Lehane's story with the cadence required of a two-hour film. Linney, Fishburne, Harden, and even the younger members of Eastwood's cast (Thomas Guiry and Spencer Treat Clark, among others) rise to each challenge their director presents, leaving little to complain about when Penn, Robbins, and Bacon are nowhere to be found. The score, the cinematography… it all clicks. So why the less-than-perfect score? While far less abrupt and abrasive than Atonement's controversial ending, Mystic River makes an ill-advised detour after Katie's murder is solved. The tone lightens rather suddenly, a bit of contrived dialogue between Jimmy and his wife smacks of amateur Shakespeare theatre, and a bizarre nod between old friends seems to suggest a heinous act is about to go unpunished. I've heard some argue that one character's "gun gesture" is meant to imply justice will indeed be sought, but the expressions that accompany the exchange don't seem to support that interpretation. Although I'm sure some will storm away in frustration, the closing moments have never ruined the film for me, but it does lessen the impact of the story and call the filmmakers' intentions into question.

Be that as it may, Mystic River remains a haunting tragedy; one elevated time and time again by the outstanding efforts of its talented ensemble cast and skilled veteran director. Film fans would be wise to seek it out.