I’m an unabashed Martin McDonagh fanboy. In fact, I believe it’d be impossible even to call oneself a connoisseur of contemporary filmmaking otherwise. I first watched McDonagh’s first feature film, In Bruges (2008), in college, after a friend professed that it was one of the best films ever made (wherein his list of favorites included Das Boot, The Deer Hunter, and Aguirre, The Wrath Of God). Said friend had also informed me that both Martin McDonagh (and his brother John Michael McDonagh) were considered to be Ireland’s best living writers. I have no idea where my friend attained this information, and I certainly don’t have the authority to back or refute his claim, but after watching In Bruges twice (that night) and Three Billboards Outside Ebbing Missouri this evening, I can’t say I don’t disagree with him. Three Billboards is writer/director Martin McDonagh’s third full-length feature film after a five-year hiatus following the release of Seven Psychopaths (2012), which I enjoyed but left some dark-comedy fans a tad disappointed for falling more towards the “comedy” end of the spectrum. Three Billboards seems to be McDonagh’s overcompensation for Seven Psychopaths’ more ebullient tone by cranking up the “dark” to a degree that even eclipse’s the darkest moments of In Bruges.
The film centers around Mildred Hayes, played by Coen Brothers veteran Frances McDormand (Fargo, Burn After Reading), a divorced mother in her seventh month of grieving after the rape and murder of her teenage daughter. Enraged by the seemingly total lack of progress in her daughter’s investigation, Mildred rents out three billboards outside Ebbing calling out the chief of police, played by Woody Harrelson (Seven Psychopaths, No Country for Old Men) for his inequities as a harbinger of justice. This denunciatory protest kickstarts a series of emotionally extreme reactions from the various townsfolk of Ebbing, setting off a chaotic chain of reactionary events. It would seem (at least to me) that this is McDonagh’s cinematic depiction of the “cycle of violence,” the hypothetical pattern of human behavior in which high emotions and doctrines of retribution and/or revenge prove to be cyclical and potentially everlasting. Characters in Three Billboards abide by an almost dreamlike logic where actions are based entirely on raw, unadulterated emotions and inhibition is merely nonexistent. The result makes for a wholeheartedly appealing series of conflicts and catastrophes that tickled my funny bone and pulverized my heart, and believe me when I say that’s a positive.
Speaking of positives, let’s go over some of them as I’m still riding that, I-just-watched-a-great-effing-movie, high! First off, the cinematography is delightfully dreary, with a strong emphasis on the scenic beauty and modern dourness of small town living in the American south. The soundtrack is perfectly “indie” in that it juggles symphonic classical pieces with American folk tunes (complete with record scratches and tone distortions) which makes for an apt fusion of sound that’s entirely in line with this uniquely American tale of the timeless folly of human instinct and intuition. The acting performances are also amazingly auspicious. Frances McDormand, Woody Harrelson, and Sam Rockwell (Moon, The Green Mile) knock it out of the park in every scene they’re in. But the real star of Three Billboards is Martin McDormand himself for both his mastery of screenwriting and dialogue but also for his ability to direct his all-star cast. That being said, if you’re planning on seeing Three Billboards, I should warn you that it’s thoroughly melancholy to the point where if the film had a spirit animal it’d probably be a depressed onion cutting itself. Now for me, that’s a positive because I’m an emotional masochist who likes having his psychological sensibilities challenged, but not everyone enjoys that in their popcorn entertainment and this movie’s certainly not for everyone. This film’s a considerably hard pill to swallow, but the result is an experience that feel’s so in line with reality you almost forget that you’re watching a work of fiction.
I’ve probably gushed enough about Three Billboards, but without spoiling the plot, I’ll try to explain why. Martin McDonagh is an uncompromisingly truthful storyteller who excels at his depictions of people and how none of us are entirely good, but neither are we altogether evil. We are always going to be harbingers of both and how one’s decisions to act on either side can hinge entirely on how we’re feeling at any given time. Albeit McDonagh showcases this philosophy to a hyperbolic degree where characters don’t operate by common sense but rather through a kind of dream-logic where characters behave in the ways most of us wish we could when we feel angry, sad, or beaten down. Much like Martin McDonagh’s past works, Three Billboards makes for a pragmatic window into the complexities of human emotion that’s hilarious, heart wrenching, and sonderous.
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