3 Films For Grown-ups: Paul Schrader’s ‘Redemption’ Trilogy

Paul Schrad­er began as a film crit­ic before mov­ing into script writ­ing. The first script he man­aged to sell was for The Yakuza, which he wrote with his broth­er Leonard in 1974, which sparked a bid­ding war and end­ed up sell­ing for an eye-water­ing $325,000. 

He then went on to write Taxi Dri­ver, in 1976, and Rag­ing Bull, in 1980, both for Scors­ese, before mov­ing into direct­ing himself. 

For a while dur­ing the 1980s, it looked like he might have been the great white hope of Amer­i­can cin­e­ma, as films like Amer­i­can Gigo­lo (’80) and Mishi­ma: A Life in Four Chap­ters (’85) man­aged to inves­ti­gate moral decay and soci­etal dis­in­te­gra­tion in a form that saw him explore the lan­guage and gram­mar of the medi­um he was work­ing in, to daz­zling effect.

But things tailed off some­what in the 1990s and 2000s, as cocaine and bills got the bet­ter of him, and more and more of his ener­gies were spent in just putting bread on the table. So in the 2010s, he embarked on a reboot, as he sought to remould him­self in response to the changes brought about by the onslaught of the dig­i­tal revolution.

And in 2017, as he moved into his 70s, that process, some­what improb­a­bly, sud­den­ly burst forth into flower. And over the fol­low­ing 6 years, he pro­duced what came to be viewed as an unof­fi­cial tril­o­gy around the theme of redemption. 

The first of his ‘man in a room’ movies, as he calls them, was First Reformed from 2017. Ethan Hawke plays a Protes­tant min­is­ter whose life falls apart after the death of his son on active ser­vice in Iraq. His response is to retreat from the real world and into the sanc­tu­ary of his ministry. 

There, he waits for an oppor­tu­ni­ty to atone for his sins, as it had been he who had pushed his son to enlist. And a sense of impend­ing tragedy builds inex­orably, as he con­cludes that only an act of self-sac­ri­fice can mit­i­gate the cor­rup­tion and moral decay of the world he sees around him. Into all of which arrives the preg­nant wife of a trou­bled parishioner.

The Card Counter, from 2021, sees Oscar Isaac in retreat from the world, dogged­ly avoid­ing the ghosts of his past by bury­ing him­self per­ma­nent­ly in the moment. So he’s laz­er focused on the day to day busi­ness of win­ning just enough at the casi­nos to get by, with­out ever win­ning so much to draw attention. 

But he is befriend­ed by a young man, and then a woman, who seem to offer alter­na­tive pos­si­ble futures. Does he fol­low the path that the young man is intent on, and purge him­self of his suf­fo­cat­ing past with the ulti­mate act of self-sac­ri­fice? Or depart with her, to leave that past behind for good?

Mas­ter Gar­den­er, from 2023, sees Joel Edger­ton work­ing obses­sive­ly as the gar­den­er on the grounds of a for­mer plan­ta­tion. He seems to have suc­cess­ful­ly buried his past and now divides his time between the needs of the gar­den, and of his host, the impe­ri­ous Sigour­ney Weaver. 

But when Weaver tasks him with men­tor­ing her viva­cious if trou­bled grand­niece, it nev­er occurs to either of them that the old­er man and the much younger, bi-racial girl could con­ceiv­ably come togeth­er, espe­cial­ly giv­en his past. 

But fall in love they do, and the hav­oc that this results in will either see him leave that past behind for good, or see him ulti­mate­ly buried by it. 

Schrad­er has carved out a niche for him­self as the last man stand­ing in a van­ished world. He’s the one film mak­er still mak­ing grown-up films that unapolo­get­i­cal­ly explore adult themes and com­plex ideas.

None of these three films is a sin­gu­lar mas­ter­piece, there’s no Mishi­ma here in oth­er words, but all three are riv­et­ing dra­mas, tight­ly script­ed, and impec­ca­bly made, by a film mak­er who assumes that his audi­ence is as intel­li­gent as he is. 

And one who sees no oppo­si­tion in enter­tain­ing his audi­ence, and in simul­ta­ne­ous­ly ask­ing them to explore the world we live in, in a deep and gen­uine­ly thought-pro­vok­ing, philo­soph­i­cal way. 

Start with Mas­ter Gar­den­er and work your way back to First Reformed, which is the strongest of the three. 

Watch the trail­er to First Reformed here:

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Linklater’s New Film “Boyhood” a Real Grown-up Treat.

Ellar Coltrane in "Boyhood".

Ellar Coltrane in “Boy­hood”.

Boy­hood pulls off a rare feat. It’s a film that works and real­ly engages despite being based on a gim­mick. The gim­mick in ques­tion is one of those things that must have sound­ed like a good idea at the time.

Take a cou­ple of chil­dren, and a cou­ple of adults, and film them in a hand­ful of scenes once a year, for twelve years.

The more you think about that, the more the whole thing should have fall­en flat on its face. The rea­son that it all works so won­der­ful­ly well is because of the way that Richard Lin­klater makes these kind of films, his per­son­al ones as opposed to the ones he makes for the studio.

As we have seen in what we have to call the Before series, as by now there have been three of them (to date), Sun­rise, Sun­set and Mid­night (reviewed ear­li­er here), he and his actors work­shop their scenes exhaus­tive­ly, in a sort of anti Ken Loach man­ner. So that instead of being in any way impro­vised, the films evolve from a script that has been writ­ten with­in an inch of its life.

Ch ch ch changes...

Ch ch ch changes…

By the time the actors come to film their scenes, they know their char­ac­ters and why they are doing what they are doing inside out. And any impro­vi­sa­tion comes from the per­for­mance, and not thank­ful­ly from the sto­ry telling.

The main dif­fer­ence between Before and Boy­hood isn’t so much the time frame, as it is the focus of atten­tion. In the­o­ry at least, as the title sug­gests, it’s the sto­ry of a boy’s jour­ney from sev­en years old to 19. Which could have been hor­ri­bly saccharine.

And there’s no ques­tion that the film isn’t quite as gut-wrench­ing­ly unfor­giv­ing of its char­ac­ters as Before Mid­night was, because Lin­klater is under­stand­ably less inclined to put his child actors through the emo­tion­al mill in quite the same way that he is with his adults.

But the rea­son that the film works so well is because in real­i­ty it offers a twin per­spec­tive. On the one hand there are the two chil­dren, of ordi­nary par­ents, and the way in which their lives seem to be imposed upon them from with­out. Sud­den­ly they are forced to move, and start a new school, and they’ve a new father, and then it’s all over again, and they have to move and start all over, again.

The teenage Coltrane with Zoe Graham.

The teenage Coltrane with Zoe Graham.

And on the oth­er, there’s a guy and a girl who are find­ing it hard enough at becom­ing adults, and now they have to bring up a cou­ple of kids at the same time. And the gap between what they’d hoped their lives would become, and the lives they are being forced to live just to make ends meet, is get­ting ever wider and increas­ing­ly unbridge­able. None of it is anyone’s fault. And yet they all blame each other.
All the per­for­mances are stun­ning. And yes the two kids Ellar Coltr­tane and Lorelei Lin­klater are amaz­ing. But it’s the adults Ethan Hawke and espe­cial­ly Patri­cia Arquette as the moth­er that gives this film its sub­stance. The weight of moth­er­hood is all too vis­i­ble as she lit­er­al­ly ages before our eyes.

Richard Lin­klater is one of the very few seri­ous film mak­ers work­ing today. And Boy­hood is anoth­er triumph.

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Before Midnight” is the Latest Instalment in this Captivating Saga.

Before Midnight.

Before Mid­night.

Mid­night is the third (so far) in the series of Before films that Richard Lin­klater has made with Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy. Before Sun­rise intro­duced us to the pair of bare­ly 20 year olds who fell mad­ly in love over an evening in Vien­na, before being forced to part the fol­low­ing morning.

10 years lat­er they meet again in Paris in Before Sun­set. And once again, if more qui­et­ly now, sparks fly. Before Mid­night vis­its them ten years on, in their ear­ly 40s. After Paris, Jesse left his wife and son, and he and Celine have been togeth­er ever since. And this finds them on the last night of their sum­mer hol­i­day in Greece where they’ve been with their twins.

Although the scripts are care­ful­ly and pre­cise­ly writ­ten, Lin­klater, Hawke and Delpy work­shopped all three instal­ments exten­sive­ly togeth­er. The result is a trio of films that glide along with decep­tive ease. And it would be easy to miss quite how impec­ca­bly craft­ed and immac­u­late­ly per­formed the three sto­ries are.

Delpy and Hawke in Before Sunrise.

Delpy and Hawke in Before Sunrise.

Or at least it might have been in the first two. By the time we get to Before Mid­night, it’s impos­si­ble not be bowled over by the depths of raw emo­tion on dis­play and the sheer force of the artistry involved.

Sim­i­lar in tone, approach and impact to Bergman’s great­est film, Scenes From A Mar­riage, this third instal­ment in the Before saga is not just one of the best films of the year. It’s a per­son­al tri­umph for Lin­klater, Hawke and Delpy. And I can’t wait to find out how they’re all get­ting on in ten years’ time. You can see the Before Mid­night trail­er here.

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