The Place Beyond the Pines

Coast­ing into view like Dri­ve​‘s sen­si­tive, under­stat­ed cousin, The Place Beyond The Pines sees Ryan Gosling tear up famil­iar ter­rain as a part-time stunt rid­er who turns to crime to pro­tect a damsel in dis­tress (Eva Mendes). This time, how­ev­er, his nat­ur­al habi­tat is not the asphalt dystopia of Los Ange­les but idyl­lic upstate New York – specif­i­cal­ly the city of Sch­enec­tady, named after a Mohawk word that loose­ly trans­lates as ​‘place beyond the pine plains’.

In a flu­id open­ing track­ing shot we’re guid­ed through a busy car­ni­val late at night by a mys­te­ri­ous male fig­ure. The name Hand­some Luke blares out over a tan­noy as he strides into a packed mar­quee, the din of the crowd yield­ing to the syn­chro­nised squeal of motor­cy­cle engines as he and two oth­er bik­ers cer­e­mo­ni­ous­ly enter a ​‘globe of death’. It’s a rous­ing intro­duc­tion to Gosling’s enig­mat­ic anti-hero and a bril­liant piece of cam­er­a­work that’s mir­rored to poignant effect in the film’s cathar­tic third act.

Luke rides like light­ning and crash­es like thun­der, his reck­less aban­don dra­mat­i­cal­ly alter­ing not just the course of his life but the lives of those around him. With his oil-smudged appar­el, bleached mop and mav­er­ick sprin­kles of prison ink, Luke is the bad-boy antithe­sis of Pines’ oth­er chief pro­tag­o­nist, clean-cut rook­ie cop Avery Cross (Bradley Coop­er), whose entrance marks an abrupt shift in tone that will divide audiences.

Gosling’s pre­vi­ous film with writer/​director Derek Cian­france, cou­pled with the afore­men­tioned echoes of Dri­ve, places him front and cen­tre here. Despite only turn­ing up at half­time, how­ev­er, it’s Coop­er who steals the show, though in fair­ness he’s giv­en a meati­er role to play with. Arguably top­ping his per­for­mance in David O Russell’s Sil­ver Lin­ings Play­book, it’s no won­der Coop­er is fast becom­ing recog­nised as one of Hollywood’s bright­est talents.

Where Cianfrance’s emo­tion­al­ly raw 2010 direc­to­r­i­al debut Blue Valen­tine offered an inti­mate and uncom­pro­mis­ing­ly dim view on the nat­ur­al life cycle of love, Pines is far grander in scope. Span­ning sev­er­al decades and mul­ti­ple inter­sect­ing lives, it’s at once an ambi­tious, intel­li­gent and occa­sion­al­ly brave film that shows how we are all con­nect­ed and how even the most neg­a­tive action can have a pos­i­tive reac­tion. It’s a cap­ti­vat­ing mes­sage for the most part, but you can’t help feel there’s a lean­er, more engag­ing film here.

Even if the end prod­uct doesn’t quite come togeth­er, though, you have to admire Cian­france for attempt­ing to weave togeth­er such an intri­cate and dense char­ac­ter study.