CinePhillyist Reviews... The Brave One

(This review contains spoilers; although if you think the movie can be spoiled I admire your optimism.)

The Brave One is about Erica (Jodie Foster), a middle-aged New York City native who wanders the streets of the city for work (she records the sounds of the city for her NPR-style radio show). She manages to go for four decades or so without being the victim of any violent encounter to speak of, before one fateful summer where she is attacked by violent psychopaths on three separate and utterly unrelated occasions, witnessing the murder of David (Naveen Adams), her fiancee, in the park, then the shooting of a woman in a convenience store before being nearly raped by two African-American gentlemen on the subway, all in about a month. If this doesn't sound credible to you, you're missing the point. The Brave One exists not so much to provide a credible story as to goose the audience's bloodlust without admitting it. It's about wanting to see The Other die violently, but not copping to it afterwards. It's Crash for gore-hounds.

Consistent with the Paul Haggis tradition, screenwriters Roderick and Bruce A. Taylor prove themselves to be completely incapable of writing credible human behavior. We are asked to believe, for example, that David's family would forget to cancel the wedding invitations, just so that Jodie Foster could stare tearfully at a pile of now-useless invitations, or that a once-idealistic attorney would refuse to represent (or give a referral) to a little girl whose very life is at stake simply because she resents her ex-husband. Director Neil Jordan, meanwhile, has surgically removed any ounce of subtlety from his mise-en-scene. From the awkwardly-lurching camera he uses to demonstrate Erica's fear to the sudden gunshot that precedes a violent flashback, you can practically see the flop-sweat staining the film itself.

The movie occasionally makes disingenuous gestures in the direction of moral complexity. Jodie Foster, who gives a solid performance but is ultimately swimming upstream, plays Erica's torment at the realization that she's capable of so much violence. In their most risible moment, the Taylors have an aphoristic Caribbean woman clutch Erica and exclaim, "Your hands--they're so cold!" That would be more convincing if Erica's torment wasn't contrasted so sharply with the unapologetic sadism of her victims. They're usually actively trying to kill or rape her, just so that the character doesn't look cold-blooded. (Not surprisingly, the audience at my advance screening cheered the death of every one-dimensional scumbag.) The movie concludes with Erica walking at night in the park where David died, alone and unafraid: this too could be you, once you've wasted a few Mexicans with an illegal handgun.

Photo credit to Alan Light