Richard Jewell

In the final leg of his career, Clint Eastwood favored directing biopics that were focused on lesser-known heroes—or perhaps previously well-known heroes who had since faded from fame, too quickly for Eastwood’s liking.

Films like American Sniper garnered favorable attention and reviews. Other projects like 15:17 to Paris were panned. While a few went largely unnoticed, such as Sully and my personal favorite, Richard Jewell.

Other than an Oscar nod for Kathy Bates in a supporting role, this film was otherwise ignored by critics and movie-goers. I don’t know anyone—other than the few friends I have shown it to—who has seen it, let alone who paid to go see it. And that is too bad! I wish more people knew about this movie. I think it is Eastwood’s best directorial turn since Million Dollar Baby. The ensemble cast fit perfectly into his true-to-life, almost documentary-like style, the without-a-doubt standout being Paul Walter Hauser in the titular role.

A narrowly avoided disaster. In a neighboring universe, the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta went down in history as one of the worst domestic terrorist attacks, ever. We were so close to speaking about this event in the same conversation as Oklahoma City or Boston Marathon Bombing. The country was saved from yet another national tragedy by a wannabe cop in a security guard uniform named Richard Jewell. An ordinary, single, middle-aged man, living with his elderly mother saved hundreds of lives by being at the right place at the right time. He thwarted the efforts of a bomber, who had set explosives in the crowd of an evening concert. Thrust into the spotlight as a hero, Richard enjoyed an hour or two of praise. Richard always wanted to be a hero, to protect people, and to get attention. Law enforcement was his life’s ambition. And for one shining moment, Richard was the hero he always wanted to be. But then, just as suddenly, it all fell apart. The FBI and the media, desperate to have a lead, started to target him as the responsible party. They theorized and then instantly told the country that Richard planted the bomb himself so that he could pretend to find it and save the day. Despite having no evidence to back up their story, the media painted him as a terrorist. The storm this created nearly ruined his life, forever. Richard teamed up with a small-time lawyer friend to battle the strongest forces in the country and clear his name.

Why did this film not get more attention or praise?

One reason was marketing. I remember the trailer did not offer much to attract an audience away from the surrounding big-budget, Oscar-season releases of winter 2019: Star Wars, Ford v Ferrari, Knives Out, and Little Women.

I saw Richard Jewell but not because I wanted to. Not because of the trailer or any buzz around the movie. The choice was completely random. I was driving home for the holidays, needed to wait out a snowstorm, and decided to see a movie.

I’m glad I did. The marketing dropped the ball, showing potential audiences how great this movie is.

The second and more important reason for its ambiguity is the fact that Eastwood’s biopics are boring.

Let me explain.

It could have been better as a documentary. That’s the critique that most biographical movies try to avoid. They try to distinguish themselves from what you would see if you watched “the real thing” on newsreels, documentaries, or YouTube. They exaggerate the plot for dramatic effect. They add a rousing score to tell you when to be in awe. They tinker with the truth for the sake of art.

Eastwood doesn’t do any of that. He embraces the critique that you might as well be watching a documentary. Richard Jewell, like his other biopics, has a sparse soundtrack. The plot plays out like you are reading from a Wikipedia page. Eastwood trims all of the fat away from the facts.

Without the fluff we have come to expect, his biopics can feel boring. In some cases, I would go as far as saying that his style was detrimental to the history he was trying to portray. Eastwood has chosen some pretty significant, complex, and controversial figures as his subjects. People who needed a bigger, flashier film. People like Nelson Mandela and J Edgar Hoover demand an epic of a movie, complete with Oscar-bait performances and some artistic licensing to better convey their mark on history, the good and the bad.

Richard Jewell on the other hand needed Eastwood’s subdued touch. This was the perfect story for him to tell because…

Richard Jewell was no hero

He was just a guy named Richard

…and I mean that in the best way possible. Richard’s story is incredible because of how regular he was. What makes him a compelling hero is how normal and unlikely a hero he was. And the regular biopic tricks—an emotional score, loose retelling, and overacting—would have overpowered that.

The audience needs to know how normal Richard was in order to relate to him as a hero. And that’s what Eastwood’s removed style allows. I think we identify with the character because we are…or at least we all know someone in our lives like Richard Jewell. We all know someone who is kind to a fault. Who isn’t taken seriously. Who we can’t help but like. Who would be that much more powerless against the world if it turned against them.

Eastwood’s style may have been the best choice but what makes the film complete is the performance by Paul Walter Hauser.

The movie starts with slow and slightly meandering scenes of Jewell working various jobs. A lonely and shunned mailroom clerk. Then a campus security officer who also happens to be the butt of every joke at school. He puffs his chest but only manages to annoy anyone he tries to impress.

Even after the central plot picks up and Richard is set against the FBI, he isn’t suddenly strong or heroic. He’s awkward. He fumbles conversations and puts people off. He never does or says the right thing, seemingly more concerned with being liked by the FBI agents he idolizes than staying out of prison.

And yet! He does all of that in the most endearing way possible.

We may cringe when he tries to walk with a swagger. We feel for him when people laugh behind his back. We want so desperately for him to stand up for himself when the FBI pushes him around.

But he never loses our respect!

Why? Because his kindness and authenticity outshine his missteps. We sympathize without pitying him. We understand his shortcomings but don’t look down on him. This is a difficult line to walk, but we are brought along for the entire film, thanks to the amazing work of Paul Walter Hauser, who you might know from films like I Tonya and Blackklansman. Hauser perfectly portrays Jewell not as a joke or an idiot but as a regular guy in the worst situation imaginable.

The film’s two best scenes demonstrate what I’ve been talking about.

Richard’s lawyer Watson (another underrated Sam Rockwell performance) berates his client for how willingly he is playing the FBI’s games. The agents are trying to catch Richard in a lie, trick him into confessing, or bully him until he submits. And Richard is making it easy for them. He goes along with whatever they say because he respects and trusts the government too much to fight against it. Watson is furious because Richard is passive. He isn’t angry enough! Watson pleads and screams at Richard, “Why aren’t you angry?” Richard responds with “I’m not that guy!” Watson and the audience realize that Richard is not dumb or naive. He is just too darn sweet-natured to fight back, which only makes him that much more of a hero.

The FBI finally admit that they don’t have a case against Richard. The investigation ends and Richard is allowed to go on with his life. Instead of taking place in a courtroom or some large stage, the climax happens at a quiet country diner. Richard and Watson, now close friends, are having breakfast. The FBI agent assigned to the case begrudgingly delivers the letter, informing Richard that the case is being closed. The agent leaves. Richard reads the letter and quietly starts to cry. The music does not swell over the ambiance of breakfast chatter. There is no victory speech, simply a tearful handshake and “thank you.” We sit with Richard as he struggles to know what he is supposed to do. He finishes a donut because doesn’t know what else to do. Watson tells Richard he is free, and Richard says he wants to go tell his Momma. And the movie ends. Eastwood’s matter-of-fact direction somehow makes the scene more powerful and more emotional by giving the audience less.

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