Martin McDonagh
Tre Manifesti a Ebbing, Missouri

For several months now, since its presentation in competition in Venice, there has been great interest in this film, and many comments have already been made, almost unanimously more than positive, regarding Martin McDonagh's new effort, more than five years after 7 Psychopaths.

And... that's it, I want to be straightforward and get to the point: if you're expecting to see a great film, you'll leave the viewing disappointed.

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri is a solid portrayal of a provincial drama, marked by non-trivial themes with an extremely classic style. The fact is that, beyond all this, there is nothing truly remarkable to allow examples of great cinema to stand out. Compared to his (few) previous works, McDonagh abandons any meta-cinematic and meta-linguistic ambitions (and for this, I am grateful), focusing on the dramatic aspect and almost entirely limiting the lighter and grotesque interludes (which are, however, present and successful). At several moments, he manages to be authentically touching, confirming the aura of death and suffering present in all his cinema. A death sensed, perceived in its inevitable approach, and finally sought out in person, as it was for the two unforgettable killers in In Bruges, just as now it is for the beautiful local police chief, terminally ill played by Woody Harrelson. There is a strong lead, a Frances McDormand increasingly beyond her role as a Coen character actress (but it would have been a great injustice to consider her only as such for many years now), the backwoods cop who finds redemption in the end, the ex-husband who is a piece of crap, the small great petty and provincial miseries, all here; our dearly beloved Tyrion Lannister (the second dwarf in the British director's filmography, must be a little fetish of his), obviously outcast and obviously addicted to alcohol. All very beautiful, nothing that is original.

McDonagh is a good director and an interesting auteur. But something is missing in his films, to really elevate them above the qualitative average of Anglophone productions, to be more than just good films and little/nothing else, which they are. He seems to me decidedly on the path of general overestimation.

The best one, still, is obviously In Bruges. Already, 7 Psychopaths stayed there without leaving anything particularly memorable beyond a couple of hours of good entertainment with (pretentious) meta diversions as mentioned above. This Three Billboards, greatly awarded at the Golden Globes of pretentious black hypocrisy, also awarded in Venice for its screenplay (some wanted the Golden Lion!) has generated decidedly excessive clamor despite being a film worthy of being seen, which ultimately, however, doesn't go beyond the umpteenth portrayal of a provincial drama (from the South), also touching at times, as I was saying, and where events easily descend, whether the intentions are good or not. But, I reiterate, I find it difficult to see something more.

Great performances within a grand cast, for sure, Frances is excellent (even though she had already given her best as a grumpy, insufferable middle-aged woman in Olive Kitteridge, here she adds a touch of badass mourning), Woody outstanding as always, a couple of appearances by protagonists from old HBO cult series but the only one who truly stands out is Rockwell.