It’s absolutely an oversimplification to say no one does grumpy like Frances McDormand these days. Now don’t overreact. That’s a compliment. McDormand gives her characters a nuance and depth that the screenwriters and directors she works with often can’t articulate. When she’s playing cranky there is a fire behind her eyes that could stop a charging bear dead in its tracks. Thankfully, that’s the sort of passion she brings to Martin McDonagh’s latest creation, “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.”
Mildred Hayes (McDormand) has had enough. Her teenage daughter Angela was horrifically raped and set on fire eight months prior and no one knows who is responsible. Frustrated with the status quo, Hayes decides to take matters into her own hands and put her small Missouri community on notice. She rents the three billboards in question and calls out Sheriff Willoughby (Woody Harrelson, absolutely superb) by asking him a pointed question: “Still No Arrests?” Willoughby isn’t thrilled by Hayes actions and becomes even less so when she appears in a news report saying the police are too busy beating up the town’s black residents to solve the case. The worst reaction, however, comes from one of his deputies, Jason Dixon (Sam Rockwell), who can barely control his anger at Hayes or the guy in charge of the advertising company that owns the billboards, Red (Caleb Landry Jones, a welcome change of pace). Hayes finds little support at home as her teenage son Robbie (Lucas Hedges, solid) is embarrassed by all the unwanted attention as he’s still dealing with his sister’s death himself. Hayes wanted to stir the pot and its worked.
The powder keg in this entire scenario is Dixon. Rockwell’s character is a dumbass who still lives with his racist mother (Sandy Martin, fantastic) and reads comic books while lounging at his desk. Dixon has been accused of beating up black residents but somehow still has his job with no internal investigation pending. Is this police force racist? With Dixon and his colleague (Željko Ivanek, fine) around it sure seems like it. And as the film progresses, Dixon and Hayes go at each other in a series of creative incidents that are as hilarious as they are cruel (what else would you expect McDonagh to be up to?).
Sheriff Willoughby, however, is a popular figure who is battling cancer, so the town rather turns on Hayes for going after him. Willoughby has compassion for her though and tries to convince Hayes the force has done all they can under the circumstances. The DNA has not matched with anyone after a nationwide database search, there’s no physical evidence at the scene and no eyewitnesses. He makes the point that sometimes cases like this get solved years later because someone slips and reveals something or new evidence pops up. Again, she’s not satisfied.
When the film takes a shocking turn (at the end of the first act, no less) Dixon brutally attacks Red with a vitriol that is simply shocking given the tone of the film to this point. This prompts the arrival of Willoughby’s temporary replacement, Abercrombie (Clarke Peters, great), an African-American police force veteran who makes some much-needed changes that only stir the pot even more.
While Dixon, Hayes and others play their almost childish back and forth games of one-upmanship it becomes increasingly clear that McDonagh is using this scenario to make a point that might seem simplistic at first: hate begets hate (but that’s not all he’s aiming for). Dixon’s racist actions come from being raised by his verbally abusive mother and her bigoted inclinations. Hayes grief over her daughter’s death has made her irrationally hate the police force so much so that her family and neighbors turn on her. And it’s those minorities largely being discriminated against the most, the African American citizens of the town and the dwarf James (Peter Dinklage, I mean…), etc. who look at this increasingly bizarre madness going on around them shocked at how far its escalated. The surprise comes in how McDonagh finds a way to bring hope to the scenario in the most unlikely of ways.
While McDonagh’s screenplay is ingenious, Rockwell has a major transformation to pull off and he does so brilliantly. The fact he even pulls it off is remarkable given McDonagh’s unique balance of serious drama and dark, dark comedy for the proceedings.
As you’d expect, McDormand plays Hayes’ determination with military precision, but as events unfold and her relationship with her daughter comes to the forefront and that fire behind her eyes starts to instead reveal her deep emotional heartache. Again, like Rockwell, the fact that McDormand can navigate McDonagh’s distinct landscape without one false moment is sort of remarkable.
Beyond that effusive praise, it’s worth noting not everything clicks as precisely as McDonagh might have envisioned. John Hawkes appears as Hawes ex-husband and he seems completely wrong for the role. Moreover, as fine as Dinklage is, it’s hard to understand why his character would be so enraptured by a woman who will barely look him in the eye or the fact he conveniently becomes a major plot point after disappearing for a good chunk of the movie. And, of course, anyone thinking McDonagh is going to do a true deep dive into the systematic discrimination that has been chronicled in Missouri this decade will be highly disappointed.
Those are somewhat minor quibbles, however. What immediately comes to the forefront is that McDonagh has choreographed an almost impossible feat of a brutally dark comedy that, thanks to both Rockwell and McDormand, elicits an emotional response you simply don’t see coming. [A-/B+]
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