Clint Eastwood
Sully

Clint Eastwood's latest film is profoundly organic with its predecessor, which should definitely be re-evaluated and judged with greater detachment. Sully is the fully successful version of American Sniper: though they appear very different, both films tell the same story, which is evidently very dear to the octogenarian director. And that story is of America made up of many tiny, ordinary yet truly fundamental blocks characterized by great technical skills, composure, and dedication. The hero Sully is, in short, one of the many faces of everyday and normal heroism upon which the greatness of a nation is built; a nearly patriotic vocation manifested in performing one's duty every day in the most professional and impeccable manner possible.

Sully corners us because it forces us to re-evaluate its predecessor. The sniper isn't much different from the civilian airplane pilot, in Eastwood's view: he performs his duty, does a very difficult job, and brings all his expertise and intelligence every day, forcing himself into a not-so-simple, sacrificed life, far from home. And how are these people treated by the institutions? Well, with great coldness and detachment. The absence of the State toward veterans transforms here into something subtler, yet no less startling: according to the institutions Sully was wrong, he shouldn't have landed on the Hudson, he should have returned to LaGuardia. In short, America does not recognize its ordinary heroes, or worse, it accuses them because they didn’t do what was ordered. It doesn't matter that 155 people were saved; the insurance, the airline's image, and everything else come first.

Sully works better than American Sniper because it explains this dichotomy in a civil context, decidedly more acceptable and familiar compared to the war context. But the essence is the same. Also because here the protagonist saves people, while the other had to kill them. If we want, it's a easier film than the other, but it is also handled with more clarity by the director. We are indeed in front of a work of remarkable restraint. The camera's eye is austere, far from sensationalism, as sharp as possible without descending into pathos. And this is one of the film's major strengths: the way it tells the story, which could have become awkwardly celebratory.

Eastwood, instead, works with finesse to avoid redundant parts, trims the running time to about an hour and a half, and focuses on the inner investigation, the fatal moment of choice, and the psychological as well as legal repercussions. It's, if you will, a very tough, detached film, but it's the necessary detachment to clearly understand the contradictions inherent in a nation that ends up accusing a hero who saved 155 lives. The people's comments are always significant, the vox populi recognizes Sully's heroism, just as they called the sniper a "hero." It's always about the numbers of lives, saved or taken; from a very cynical point of view, they are both aces at what they do.

One of the best ideas is to position the plane events in the middle of the film, having the protagonist relive them as a flashback. In this way, the viewer already knows how heavy the consequences will be, even in the success of the feat, and observes the events with a burdened, less triumphant gaze. And so, the feat loses its brilliance, becomes gray, leaden, as if to immediately represent an America that no longer recognizes its heroes. Directorally, the work is well done: in the simplicity of the occurrence, Eastwood identifies a series of seemingly insignificant details and amplifies them because the character's greatness is based on them. "The human factor" is indeed in those details, in the number of seconds taken to make a difficult decision, in the ability to dose the plane's movements; there, Sullenberger's greatness emerges. And that's enough.

Tom Hanks and Aaron Eckhart's performances are splendid in their calmness. Their always slightly worried and doubtful expressions perfectly convey the uncertainty of heroic people in their normality. Always without emphasis, without tearing their clothes, but without conceding a millimeter in their convictions.

7.5/10