It seems that evil doesn’t have a monopoly on banality. This woefully misjudged quasi-experimental film by Clint Eastwood, which celebrates the real-life heroism, in 2015, of three American tourists in Europe, is arse-numbingly dull. A key problem is that Eastwood casts the three friends, Spencer Stone, Alek Skarlatos and Anthony Sadler, as themselves. God bless them, they may be the bravest men ever to interrupt an interrailing holiday to tackle an armed terrorist. But they have not an iota of screen presence between them.
And since the actual act of heroism is over in a matter of minutes, there is a lot of thuddingly tedious padding to plough through in order to haul the story up to feature length. A considerable chunk of the first act is dedicated to their troubled schooldays; we endure long minutes of fatuous Skype conversations, and a seemingly endless scene in which the lads buy ice-cream in Venice.
But while the inelegant structure and lacklustre performances are a problem, a deeper issue is the fact that Eastwood seems to lose interest in the story as the film unfolds. And if the director doesn’t care enough to make sure each take is in focus, why should we?
