“The time it took you to get out here whining like a bitch, Willoughby, some other poor girl’s probably out there being butchered.”
Hell hath no fury like Frances McDormand scorned. Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, the new film by Martin McDonagh, is a perfect showcase for McDormand’s uniquely brazen presence, holding together a movie with a lot to say about the state of America and its unquenchable lust for vengeance.
Three Billboards is set in the fictional small town of Ebbing, Missouri, though it is very much an emblem of many towns in the American South, where everyone knows each other, the language is crude, the respect for law enforcement is high, and the racial tensions of the past are still simmering at the surface. Despite hailing from the United Kingdom, McDonagh has a keen sense of the very specific dynamics embedded in a predominantly white small town community in America from its strong sense of loyalty to its violent hypocrisy. The bubbling tension comes to a head when Mildred Hayes (McDormand), whose daughter Angela was raped and murdered many months ago, calls out police chief Bill Willoughby (Woody Harrelson) for failing to make any progress in finding the culprit. Savvy on how cases brought into the public eye are often solved at a higher rate, an enterprising, frustrated Mildred rents the titular three billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri on which she asks Chief Willoughby a specific question: “Raped while dying, and still no arrests. How come, Chief Willoughby?”
The central theme of Three Billboards is how we deal with the traumas of this random, unexplainable world. Mildred is filled to the brim with anger and guilt over the loss of Angela, haunted by their strained relationship but steadfast in seeking justice. The lack of communication on the part of the police department is just making her grief worse, but Willoughby is dealing with his own problems too, like an incurable illness and a rogue cop on his force. That rogue cop, Officer Jason Dixon (Sam Rockwell), has deep insecurities about himself and lashes out at black townsfolk and anyone else who threatens him. Rockwell in particular turns in one of the most stellar performances of his career in portraying an officer of unquestionably bad moral conduct who is nonetheless sympathetic because of his clear psychological trauma and his desire to be accepted. All of these people are hurting, and Mildred’s initial act of defiance beautifully illustrates how an environment of repressed emotions and “this is the way things have always been done” can lead to confusion and righteous anger within a community. Mildred putting up those three billboards is seen as an injustice against Chief Willoughby, but what about Mildred’s injustice?
I am reminded of the recent sexual assault stories coming out of Hollywood and other big organizations this fall. Numerous brave women and men have come forward to share their painful experiences of being assaulted and harassed in their past, and the initial response from many internet commenters has been that of outrage — not necessarily at the men who assaulted, but at those finally coming forward. They blame the victim or ask why they haven’t come forward sooner or they claim this is a way of taking down a highly-respected member of the community. Very few comments express compassion for the victims themselves. It all seems like it’s under the guise of, “Why are you upsetting the apple cart?” And at that point, is it really so surprising that these victims didn’t come forward sooner? The people of Ebbing show no real sympathy to Mildred’s pain; they are more concerned with how this is affecting their police chief rather than questioning why the police hasn’t solved this case. And even the media, who are initially eager to hear Mildred’s arguments at first, seize the opportunity to turn against her to fit a specific narrative. What Three Billboards does so well is to show how our communities and the systems we’ve built are rotting with anger and resentment. We are all frustrated with the way things are going in one area of life or another, but we are also wholly self-interested in protecting our little communities.
Another one of the film’s stronger aspects is its tone. Three Billboards shifts rapidly between crude humor, contemplative moments about the state of our world and pulpy melodrama, and while some may call it messy and inconsistent, it does accurately reflect life. “Dramedies” of this sort excel over straight comedies or straight dramas in showing life for what it really is — sometimes ridiculous, sometimes unspeakably hard, sometimes joyous, sometimes profoundly beautiful. McDonagh, having struck these tonal shifts before with In Bruges and Seven Psychopaths, knows that life is never just one emotion. One scene can have Officer Dixon obliviously clarifying that he’s in the “people of color-torturin’ business now” then have Mildred and Willoughby having a battle of wits, then have Willoughby cough up blood causing Mildred to show compassion. Life has these little moments where the emotional charge of your day can change on a dime, and McDonagh pulls off these changes by injecting black comedy into some painfully dark moments. The film admittedly does unfold like a play (not surprising given McDonagh was originally a playwright), with red herrings and Chekhov’s gun and each character filling a specific role. Yet, it does manage to surprise its audience with each new twist being more impactful than the last, reminiscent of another great crime thriller starring McDormand, Fargo.
Not everyone is going to love Three Billboards, whether because of its wild tonal shifts, its treatment of minority characters or the eventual arc for one character late in the film, but it will leave an impact. The film also has an ambiguous ending that may even frustrate some who like their stories tied up in a bow, but it works so perfectly in leaving you thinking about how you handle anger and grief in your life. If there is one thing we can all agree on, though, it that McDormand gives a towering performance. Her Mildred is probably close to becoming the kind of iconic character she created with Marge Gunderson in Fargo. She is the heart and soul of this film; even as she escalates her war with her fellow Ebbingsfolk (fittingly wearing her jumpsuit and bandana like combat gear), she is subtly understandable in her actions, tough in that classic McDormand way, but also compassionate. There is a warm-hearted woman hiding under all that armor, before the grief set in. Needless to say, McDormand is very much in the hunt for Oscar no. 2. The film itself is also in the conversation for Best Picture, and understandably so. Beyond its high quality, this is a movie that speaks directly to our time, centering on a badass woman seeking justice in an unfair system, in the heartland of America. Even if the film doesn’t go on to take home that top Oscar, though, it is absolutely a film worth examining, not only for how it tackles our communities but our very selves.
★★★★
FOR YOUR AWARDS CONSIDERATION:
Best Picture
Best Director — Martin McDonagh
Best Actress — Frances McDormand
Best Supporting Actor — Sam Rockwell, Woody Harrelson
Best Original Screenplay — Martin McDonagh
Best Film Editing
Best Original Score