The Town
Les Phillips

Ben Affleck has become a really excellent director of action. I don't mean asteroids 'n' scary monsters; I mean his presentations of robberies, gunfights and car chases make them new, with special rhythms and angles. They look and feel like nothing you've seen. And Ben loves Boston (and Cambridge). His footage of the city is special too; the camera lingers on the geometry of the downtown skyline, or it pauses for a second to revere the Bunker Hill Monument, or observe something as small and particular as the toll booth on the Tobin Bridge. Affleck films a robbery and getaway in the North End, one of the oldest neighborhoods in America, and somehow he fits all the energy and violence into its tight old streets and alleys. Those sequences are both engineering and filmmaking; it's impressive film art. The director proved with his first film how well he understands poor white Boston; he "gets" the sociology of Charlestown perfectly. And, of course, he's Ben Affleck, so they let him film at Fenway Park.

The Town has some absolutely wonderful performances. Rebecca Hall is superb. She plays a bank manager, one of the random young professionals who've moved into Charlestown's gentrified sector, in the neighborhood but certainly not of it. She falls in love with a bank robber -- that would be Doug MacRay, played by Ben Affleck. Why would she fall for a criminal from the 'hood? Hall makes it more than plausible; we see a refined young woman who's also more than a bit lonely, carrying around some incompleteness that's waiting for somebody to come along. Pete Postlewhaite is a florist who also happens to be the local crime lord, and he is the most menacing, purely evil florist in all of recorded history; he's a quiet, suggestive Irish serpent. Jeremy Renner is an utterly convincing Boston boyo, vigorous and vulgar. Blake Lively has the druggy-slutty girl role, and she makes the most out of her minutes on screen; she's brash, wounded and sorrowful. I haven't even gotten around to Jon Hamm and Chris Cooper, who are just as fine. This cast is a tremendous embarrassment of riches, and Affleck makes the most of them.

So there are great visual moments, many fine pieces of acting, many fine scenes. What's missing from The Town? A screenplay good enough to weave all this humanity into a persuasive narrative, and deep enough to highlight the moral resonance that's only touched on. There are several little speeches where characters tell their backstories -- how Doug MacRay lost his mother, how his sidekick has always searched for a family. But all of these speeches are thin, cliche, sentimental. The Town announces itself as a story about a community where crime is the dominant art and craft, handed down through generations; about mere theft that escalates into a series of murderous rampages; but there's no moral urgency, no gravity. When all is said and done, this is a story about some bank robbers. Also missing: the central performance that could anchor the film. Doug McRay is Charlestown's representative man; he's got to embody all the pain and conflict of the cursed reluctant criminal, acting out his fate. Affleck spends much of his screen time reacting, furrowing his brow, speaking the lines; he's not awful, but he never finds the character. He's occupying space that needs a great performance. Affleck can be a fine actor, but he doesn't deliver here.

Ah, but Affleck the director! Gone, Baby, Gone was a pleasant surprise. The Town is much more than that; this is a director with real vision and imagination, first-rate talent with actors. The Town is not quite Affleck's breakthrough, but the next film might well be.

©2010 Les Phillips
CineScene