At its core The Place Beyond the Pines is a morality tale, though that distinction hardly limits the scope of the narrative's intended complexity or its moments of extreme intensity. This film borders on melodrama and thriller throughout its 140 minutes, slightly reminiscent of the late Sidney Lumet's exceptional final film Before the Devil Knows You're Dead (2007). Mike Patton's hauntingly beautiful score sets and maintains the overall tone of the film, which could never be resolutely established by the narrative and visuals that undergo drastic shifts throughout the film's progression.
The film begins with Luke Glanton (Ryan Gosling), a motorcyclist performing in a travelling fair. While in New York, his ex-lover Romina (Eva Mendes) visits him and he soon finds out that he is the father of her 1-year old son, Jason. Luke quits his job with the fair in order to take care of Romina and Jason. Romina rejects him because he lacks the means to support them and she also lives with her boyfriend Kofi (Mahershala Ali). Luke meets Robin (Ben Mendelsohn), a mechanic, and the pair decides to start robbing banks. This venture leads to a series of events that ultimately leads us to the introduction of Avery Cross (Bradley Cooper), whose encounter with Luke shifts the narrative's focus to Avery. Eventually, the story jumps forward 15 years with Luke's son Jason (Dane DeHaan) and Avery's son A.J. (Emory Cohen) taking center stage in the third act of the narrative.
Luke's story is undoubtedly the most intriguing of the three acts in The Place Beyond the Pines. Luke is the heart, the lifeline, of the narrative. The opening scene of the three motorcyclists, including the star Luke, zooming around each other in the ball-cage resembles how one imagines protons and electrons bouncing around inside of an atom, bound to collide. The thought of protons and electrons, opposite in their nature, colliding foreshadows the major turning point of the narrative where roughneck and tattooed criminal Luke meets privileged and educated police officer Avery, who do indeed collide -- irrevocably changing the course of the story. And this change hurts, it really does. Cianfrance masterfully creates a sympathetic character in Luke, whom on the surface is not easy to sympathize with. He's shabby and the tattoo of a blood-dripping knife on his left cheek isn't exactly endearing to the common sensibility. This complexity forces Cianfrance and cinematographer Sean Bobbitt (Hunger, Shame) to teach us to like Luke, which they accomplish by utilizing tight shots vaguely reminiscent of the Cassavetes camera that penetrates the character's expressions, digging out his/her true nature. This scoping cinematography combined with Luke's awe-striking riding ability designate him our unquestioned hero. Even as he robs banks and takes a wrench to Kofi's head we sympathize with his plight and his legitimate effort to care for his son and Romina. He's a flawed individual manning-up when it counts, a fact the audience can't dispute and has to admire.
Luke's skill as a motorcyclist also allows his portion of the story the most thrilling visuals. The ball-cage sequence (I'm sure there is another name for that contraption, but ball-cage is the most accurate description I can think of) is exalting in how close the camera gets to the cage, raising the audience's sense of danger to the same level of the people witnessing the event in person. Cianfrance takes a guerrilla approach in capturing Luke's daring motorcycle ventures through a bevy of pines in the New York wilderness and on the run from pursuing police cruisers on the freeway. These are refreshingly raw sequences whose unrefined quality mirror the chaotic frenzy of elements within the frame that Luke maneuvers around.
Once the story shifts to Avery, the film's pace slows down noticeably and never reaches the same intensity or interest of Luke's story. Avery replacing Luke is like a passing of the baton, in which Avery inherits the same sense of moral obligation that Luke felt towards raising his son. This narrative connection provides ample opportunity to build upon the tone of Luke's story, but it peters out as Avery's actions divert the narrative direction away from the intensity of the first act. Whereas, Luke wanted his son, Avery can't seem to accept his own. The connection established between Luke and Avery at the major turning point fails to survive as the film enters its third and final act, 15 years later.
Here, the sons become the focus of the narrative and like their fathers are complete opposites -- Luke's son Jason, an introspective loner, and Avery's son A.J., an arrogant guido-type, who doesn't seem like an appropriate offspring of Bradley Cooper and Rose Byrne (Avery's wife Jennifer). What about Cooper and Byrne, or even their proper upper-class characters, says guido? Emory Cohen plays A.J. just fine, so this is definitely a case of poor character writing. Nonetheless the narrative comes full circle as by mere circumstance Jason and A.J. encounter one another at school. Unfortunately, the narrative has gone enough off the rails since midway through the second act that the climax of the film fails to reconcile any issues raised in Luke's story. We're left wondering what this was all about. Was the payoff that Luke and Avery's sons meet in school leading to the penultimate confrontation between Jason and Avery that is equally devoid of any meaningful results? Perhaps the story doesn't end because the story continues with Jason, who closes out the film riding his new motorcycle West.
Unlike Blue Valentine, which bounced back and forth between past and present, The Place Beyond the Pines follows each story chronologically, a deterrent to the narrative, which just didn't have enough leg to follow through on it's epic ambitions. This doesn't make The Place Beyond the Pines a bad film by any means. It's certainly flawed, but the first act is an example of excellent filmmaking in terms of establishing emotionally thrilling tone and intensity. The writing succeeds in developing a dynamic character in Luke, whose complexity allows Cianfrance wondrous opportunities with the camera. The second act is also good filmmaking, but it simply veers too far from the direction of the first act, ultimately hindering the film's thematic and tonal cohesiveness.
Here, the sons become the focus of the narrative and like their fathers are complete opposites -- Luke's son Jason, an introspective loner, and Avery's son A.J., an arrogant guido-type, who doesn't seem like an appropriate offspring of Bradley Cooper and Rose Byrne (Avery's wife Jennifer). What about Cooper and Byrne, or even their proper upper-class characters, says guido? Emory Cohen plays A.J. just fine, so this is definitely a case of poor character writing. Nonetheless the narrative comes full circle as by mere circumstance Jason and A.J. encounter one another at school. Unfortunately, the narrative has gone enough off the rails since midway through the second act that the climax of the film fails to reconcile any issues raised in Luke's story. We're left wondering what this was all about. Was the payoff that Luke and Avery's sons meet in school leading to the penultimate confrontation between Jason and Avery that is equally devoid of any meaningful results? Perhaps the story doesn't end because the story continues with Jason, who closes out the film riding his new motorcycle West.
Unlike Blue Valentine, which bounced back and forth between past and present, The Place Beyond the Pines follows each story chronologically, a deterrent to the narrative, which just didn't have enough leg to follow through on it's epic ambitions. This doesn't make The Place Beyond the Pines a bad film by any means. It's certainly flawed, but the first act is an example of excellent filmmaking in terms of establishing emotionally thrilling tone and intensity. The writing succeeds in developing a dynamic character in Luke, whose complexity allows Cianfrance wondrous opportunities with the camera. The second act is also good filmmaking, but it simply veers too far from the direction of the first act, ultimately hindering the film's thematic and tonal cohesiveness.
3.5/5
Director: Derek Cianfrance
Screenwriter(s): Derek Cianfrance, Ben Coccio, Darius Marder
Cinematographer: Sean Bobbitt
Score: Mike Patton
Cast: Ryan Gosling, Bradley Cooper, Eva Mendes, Rose Byrne, Ben Mendelsohn, Ray Liotta, Dane DeHaan, Emory Cohen
Distributor: Focus Features
Running Time: 140 min.
Rating: R
Release Date: April 19, 2013
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