THE 15:17 TO PARIS

15:17 STALLS ON TRACKS

Film Review by FIORE

Clint Eastwood generally tells fine tales on celluloid.  He stubs his toe on THE 15:17 TO PARIS, providing a disjointed, often time nonsensical rambling story, far below his usual standards.  Frequently, the film seems rushed, as if not enough time was given to plot or character development in order to hit a deadline.

Admittedly, much conflict needed added.  The incident of three Americans stopping a Muslim terrorist from unleashing carnage on a Paris commuter train, takes about fifteen minutes to tell.  To build an entire three act play out of a quarter hour incident can be done, but much care and sophisticated filmmaking are required.  Eastwood doesn’t have either here and as a result, THE 15:17 TO PARIS falls flat.

Another drawback is the actual men involved in the incident, play themselves in the film.  Their acting is stilted, and the delivery of dialogue is forced and tense.  Using the real people is a note worthy gimmick, but these three needed more acting classes before tackling this film.  The majority of the movie utilizes child actors to show the three during their younger days, but even the child actors are not the cream of the crop.  The only advantage to use the real folk, is to utilize the authentic footage from the aftermath and the honors ceremony.

The Muslim terrorist, Ayoub, is played by Ray Corasani.  He is the film’s best performer, even though he does not have any dialogue lines and is restricted to guttural exclamations during battles.  Interestingly, while the words terrorist and terrorism are used in the movie, the word Muslim is not.  Alex Skarlatos, Anthony Sadler and Spencer Stone all play themselves.  Should any of the three opt to make acting a career, enrollment in the Lee Strasberg school would be wise. William Jennings, Bryce Gheisar and Paul-Mikel Williams play the heroes as children.  Jenna Fischer and Judy Greer play their moms.  They fit comfortably in Tinseltown’s current Women Warrior Agenda, depicting independent, confident and omniscient women, who have no need for men.

Dorothy Blyskal wrote the screenplay.  Her ideologies are transparent, and her dialogue delivery needs work.  Editor Blu Murray, realizing this short story is terribly extended, attempts to avoid the mundane by time-shifting sequences.  At times, it works, as in the beginning reel, but often, its an obvious ploy and distracting.  Tom Stern does yeoman duty with the cinematography. 

While I applaud Eastwood’s efforts to shine a spotlight on these three individuals, more time and care and love needed to be infused into the project.    The final 20 minutes of the film are enjoyable; it is painful sitting through the eighty minutes to arrive there.  It is not a particularly good film, and the political correctness and the agendas are too noticeable for any type of effectiveness.  See this one only when you are in a super-patriotic mood.