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The Judge

With all the recent hoopla surrounding “The Avengers” and the “Iron Man” franchise, it might be easy to forget that Robert Downey Jr. is a damn fine actor even when outside of that iconic suit. Even when his films fail to live up to expectations (2009’s “The Soloist” being a perfect example), he shines. His latest, “The Judge,” may be his single best performance yet. Working opposite the always fantastic Robert Duvall, he gives the rawest, most emotional performance of his storied career. However, like “The Soloist,” the film he resides in is less than the sum of its parts. An occasionally sloppy script and baffling directorial decisions keep this from going very far, but if you enjoy seeing two great actors at the top of their game, you can’t go wrong here.

Downey Jr. plays Hank Palmer, a soon-to-be-divorced lawyer whose cases consist entirely of defending the guilty and getting them off for whatever crime they may have committed. Naturally, he’s not a courthouse favorite, nor has he made his father, the titular Judge Joseph Palmer (Duvall), particularly proud, despite his talents. One day, he gets a call that his mother has died, so he heads back to his hometown in Indiana. A cynical man, he has clearly outgrown the small minded nature of this otherwise friendly town, a place where everyone knows each other and drivers wave as they pass each other on the road.

He hasn’t been home in years and as soon as he arrives, the hostility that kept him away resurfaces. His brothers, Glen (Vincent D’Onofrio) and Dale (Jeremy Strong), do their best to diffuse the situation, though the latter has a harder time dealing with it due to mental illness, but his father keeps pushing. Eventually, the judge heads out to the grocery store, for both practical reasons and to get away from his disappointing son, but arrives home with no memory of what happened. Unfortunately, there’s blood on his car and a body on a road he was spotted on, the victim a violent criminal he gave a second chance to many years ago. Did he purposely run this man down to make up for his past mistake or was this a simple accident? Regardless of the answer, Hank decides to stick around and defend his father.

“The Judge” suffers not from an uninteresting premise. Although it heads in obvious directions and the eventual answer to the above question is likely to be answered by the audience far before the characters onscreen, the foundation that the narrative is built upon is sturdy. Unfortunately, it’s the execution that cripples the film. Directed by David Dobkin, a man most known for his goofball comedies like “Wedding Crashers,” “The Change-Up” and “Fred Claus,” the film doesn’t quite know what it wants to be. Does it want to be a lighthearted dramedy about family, a message movie about moving on and forgiving others or something else entirely? It’s never very clear, as the tone shifts from here to there and back around again.

Mixing tones is not an inherently bad thing, but Dobkin simply doesn’t have a clean grasp on any of them. As one critic friend whispered in my ear during our screening, “The Judge” occasionally plays like a Lifetime movie, complete with sappy music and cheesy dialogue, and he wasn’t wrong. The music, oddly, ramps up and down seemingly based entirely on those dialogue cues. The music doesn’t enhance what’s being said or depicted, but rather exists as a manipulative force to make it seem like what’s being said has some type of emotional impact. Its lyrical selections are heavy-handed and its other selections sound so similar to the drum heavy nature of those silly crime dramas on television that it’s laughable. Visually, “The Judge” is no better, also moving uncomfortably from tone to tone, but if there’s any consolation to be had, it’s that these moments as described above are infrequent.

The saving grace, again, are the fantastic performances from the stellar cast. Aside from some notable exceptions, like Leighton Meester in a small, inconsequential role—an actress that has starred primarily in nonsense teen dramas and B-movie quality thrillers and doesn't quite have the chops to keep up with her co-stars—everyone here is great and elevates the substandard material into something more than it would be otherwise. The dialogue isn’t great, but it’s delivered with such gusto that you buy into it. It’s easy to understand the motivations and emotions driving Hank and his father, from a basic level of conflicting morals to more serious, unresolved family issues from their pasts that are revealed as the film goes on, and it’s due almost entirely to the actors in the roles.

Stilll, at nearly two and half hours, it’s understandable if certain moviegoers decide to pass on “The Judge” given its many faults, including a wholly unnecessary and uncomfortable side story involving the mystery paternity of Meester’s character, but this is not a bad movie. It is merely an underwhelming one. What had the potential to be one of the best of the year instead ends up as a mildly entertaining diversion; inconsequential, but nevertheless memorable. There will be better movies in the coming months as the awards season ramps up, but you could do worse than “The Judge.”

The Judge receives 3/5


Seven Days in Utopia

“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.” Isaiah 30:21

Seven Days in Utopia begins with this Bible verse, which works in multiple ways, as a hint at the story to come and as an indication that, yep, this is a religious movie. These types of films come in two forms: those that are preachy and those that aren’t. The former is much more common than the latter, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that this follows suit. Based on the book “Golf’s Sacred Journey: Seven Days at the Links of Utopia” by David L. Cook, Seven Days in Utopia is silly, unrealistic and condescending. Religious or not, this isn’t worth your time.

Luke Chisholm (Lucas Black) is a down on his luck golfer. After botching the 18th hole in a recent tournament, thus costing him the victory, he hops in his car and begins to drive. He ends up in Utopia, Texas, his car broken down after swerving to miss a cow. It’s a small town with a population of only 373 (375 if you include the twin babies born last week) and a place where everyone knows everyone and going to church isn’t a decision; it’s your duty to the Lord. Luke eventually runs into Johnny Crawford (Robert Duvall), who just so happens to be a PGA legend and tells Luke he can help him get his game back if he stays in Utopia for one week. Besides, his car is broken down, so what does he have to lose? Luke agrees and through Johnny’s lessons, he begins to learn that golf is only a sport and winning isn’t everything. It’s the people in your life that matter most.

Basically, Seven Days in Utopia is Cars, only with golf instead of racing. The difference between the two is that Cars wasn’t pushing a Christian agenda. Both movies were simple stories about finding your bliss, but this one has the gall to suggest you can’t truly be happy without Christianity, a message that, of course, is false and misleading. During his weeklong stay, Luke is forced to fly fish, paint and even fly a plane (the latter a ridiculous and dangerous stunt), which teach him to be patient, trusting and calm, traits that don’t only describe the game of golf, but also faith. To these characters, everything relates back to Christianity and they see divine intervention everywhere, even in stark contradictions. They’re like the devout religious folks who thank God one day for the beautiful sunshine and the next for the rain replenishing the Earth.

When they talk of dead relatives, taken away by cancer well before their time, they speak in religious clichés (“God works in mysterious ways,” one says), which suggest certain lives are more important than others, a mindset I’ve never truly been able to comprehend. Still, it’s not like these characters are bad people, though that’s probably because they’re hardly people at all. They’re not fleshed out in a way that makes them feel real. Watching the film, it feels like you’ve stumbled on an undiscovered civilization of people so stern in their beliefs that they’ve never heard the other options (come to think of it, I don’t recall a single science book in the entire movie), and they act oddly, never in the way expected of certain situations, which makes each scene feel like a contrived and manufactured set-up.

Late in the movie, after Luke has learned his life lessons, a song pops up with lyrics that detail exactly what has happened up to that point (“Today I found myself after searching all these years” and “I was lost when you found me here, I was broken beyond repair”). The song is supposed to work the emotions; the only one it does is laughter, so, you know, success. The song is a relatively minor part of the movie and hardly means anything when compared to the mess of the larger picture, but its minor problems don’t end there. The cast is wasted—I simply cannot fathom why Melissa Leo was in this thing—the golf scenes are inauthentic (the audio cues are too loud in relation to the crowd) and it ends on an ambiguous note, directing the viewer, I kid you not, to a website to “continue the journey.” As of the time of this writing, the website is blank, but one can only assume it will do little to clear the air of the film and will instead spend more time trying to convert its visitors.

Seven Days in Utopia wants to teach life lessons about being at peace and loving one another, but when I walked out, I found I had learned only one thing. Thanks to the aggressive product placement of all things golf related, including hats, clubs, club covers, shirts, bags and balls, Callaway must be a damn fine company.

Seven Days in Utopia receives 1/5