Clint Eastwood’s latest directorial venture is as confused as a day-long tourist in Paris. He can’t decide between the city’s nightlife, museums or churches, so he runs around soaking in a bit of all, doing justice to none. The 15:17 to Paris – incidentally about three friends on a Euro trip who save the day on a train – spends ample time exploring the trio’s childhood, friendship, nationalism and holiday itinerary, without tying up it all up the end.
- Director: Clint Eastwood
- Cast: Spencer Stone, Anthony Sadler, Alek Skarlatos, Mark Moogalian, Judy Greer, Jenna Fischer
- Storyline: True story of three friends who foil a terror plan
The film is a real-life tale of heroism, where Spencer Stone, Anthony Sadler and Alek Skarlatos, two of whom are in the U.S. military, foil a terrorism plan by immobilising a gunman in a Paris-bound train. To lend authenticity to the film, Eastwood courageously casts Stone, Sadler and Skarlatos in the film to play themselves. Needless to say, the three are not professional actors, and their inexperience is on display throughout the film. The rawness, although, could be an asset when seen as a marker of realism. But the filmmaker’s experimentation ends there. In its narration, the film is neither unconventional nor technically bold. Unless you justify the film’s plainness as an act of artistic radicalism, Eastwood’s style is terribly dull.
Barring a few flashes of the terror attack, the film is chronologically narrated, starting way back from the trio’s childhood. It’s a portion where the movie tries to be a tad insightful by exploring the themes of bullying and religious fervour. As the three grow up, Stone and Skarlatos join the military, where they are disillusioned by what they can actually do for the nation. The setup till this point is fairly engrossing and you expect this to lead up to a cathartic climax for the protagonists. But here’s where the film takes an unexpected turn, and spends a luxurious time following the three on their unbelievably boring Euro trip.
When not following the world’s most staid vacation, the story superficially uncovers some thematic layers to the story. Reeking of testosterone, Stone and Skarlatos measure their self worth with machismo and promote jingoism as patriotism. These are enough inner conflicts for the film to be an engaging one till the actual tragedy strikes, but instead Eastwood chooses to dish out a bland, staccato film, whose only asset is its right intentions.
