4/5 stars

The wildly misleading trailer for The Place Beyond The Pines sells it as a Heat-style clash between Ryan Gosling’s bank robber and Bradley Cooper’s lawman. Derek Cianfrance’s film never takes that road, though. Instead, it is an ambitious portmanteau film told in three episodes, each shifting the narrative’s perspective onto a different character. While this is a neat way of exploring the idea of recurring consequences and keeps the (rather lengthy) film feeling fresh, there is unfortunately a law of diminishing returns in place. The first act, which follows Ryan Gosling’s drifting stunt rider Luke as he resorts to crime to provide for the son he didn’t know he had, is far and away the best part of the film. Gosling’s performance isn’t exactly far removed from his persona in Drive, but he still gives an engaging essay of a man self-destructing out of desperation. After Luke’s story comes to a close, we follow Bradley Cooper’s rookie cop Avery as he deals with the fallout as well as rampant police corruption. While Cooper gives a performance to match Gosling’s and his section also features outstanding supporting turns from Ray Liotta and Bruce Greenwood, the film fails to surpass itself.

Both Gosling and Cooper’s stories are given ample room to breathe, with Cianfrance’s leisurely attention to detail putting flesh on the bones of the characters. Sadly, the same can’t be said for the final part of the story, which jumps ahead 15 years to focus on Luke’s son (Dane DeHaan). The characters introduced at this late stage don’t have time to develop properly: DeHaan’s school kid appears to have no reason to be as resentful as he seems, since his perfectly happy relationship with his step-father and suburban family makes his motivation feel muddled. Meanwhile, Avery’s relationship with his own alienated son never carries the weight that it should. While this final segment fails to fully capitalise on the excellent set-up of the first two acts, it still benefits from Cianfrance’s electric merging of a top ensemble, crime thriller mechanics and his own quiet, meditative sensibilities.

Sean Hayes