Galveston is the most interesting of movie experiences. The film, based on the novel by True Detective author Nic Pizzolatto, starts off (literally) with a bang. Then, it does something that is the opposite of what too many films are guilty of doing. Director Mélanie Laurent gives us absolutely zero exposition (from the script by Jim Hammett), which is the true crime in this criminal thriller. That is because it never allows the audience to find an emotional connection to the dynamic duo at the heart of this uniquely Texas tale.
Ben Foster is Roy, a hit man who discovers all-too quickly for plot purposes, that he has fallen out of favor by his boss, Stan (Beau Bridges, criminally underused). In the same building where his life turns on a dime is Rocky (Elle Fanning), a prostitute who happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. She is tied to a chair and knowing that her chance at remaining alive is zero if Roy does not help her. He does and the two hit the road to get as far away from their horrors as possible.
Rocky and Roy are a pairing of characters that we know little about yet are in the direst of situations. That creates the most awkward of audience emotive wells. Why should we care about these two—other than the fact that as a human being we have a heart and one does not like seeing people killed, particularly when they are our (darker) protagonists—is never, ever, overtly explained. As such, everyone involved in this story (including the audience) is thrown into the fire. While that works for some filmmakers and subjects, it does not here and that is largely due to the fact that Fanning and Foster give performances that are utterly gut-wrenchingly powerful. Like I said, it is the most interesting of movie experiences.
The pair head to the titular city, which we learn is where Roy grew up, to lay low and try to figure out how to come out of this daunting dilemma still breathing. Over the course of that period, another fascinating element arrives. That is a fair amount of character development finally lands that feels a bit “too little, too late.” It feels empty because our emotional connection to these characters cannot jive with what we filled in with our own blanks up until this point. After all, a majority of the drama has already been delivered in Hammett’s script.
But, boy oh boy do Fanning and Foster do their best to make Galveston a compelling cinematic achievement. It largely feels like each thespian is performing in a vacuum. The absence of character development when it is needed most—during the first act—has denied us the opportunity to know where to channel this power that the two leads are delivering. It’s a puzzling study in the most basic of storytelling. I am completely and utterly compelled by Foster and Fanning, but to what end is a vast mystery.
This is not Laurent’s first directing gig. The actress (most famous to English speaking audiences for her spellbinding performance in Inglourious Basterds) has three big screen flicks to her credit prior to heading to Texas to tell this tale (that is another thing that feels off about the film—it’s locale. It looked more like an east coast beach than the one that draws so many in Texas. It was, in fact, filmed in George and South Carolina.). As a veteran actor herself, there should hardly be a surprise that she garnered such powerful turns by her cast, particularly Fanning and Foster. The issue is that the script she was given failed her and her stars. All involved must have thought that the way the film commences was in the milieu of those movies that start and you’re “off to the races.” The thing about movies like those, that work, is there is enough contained in those opening moments that gives you something to connect to. Galveston does not do that and as such, the entire effort is faulty.
It’s a shame, really, because Fanning and Foster are tragically wasted in roles that they clearly gave so much of themselves to capture. They knew who they were to their core. But, the storytellers in charge of delivering us the potentially tallest of Texas tales forgot to give those witnessing the film exactly what completely comprises these tragically fateful film souls.
Grade: C-