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The problem lies with the script. On paper, the story looks strong. In fact, the movie is based on the novel by John Burnham Schwartz, which won the New York Times' Notable Book of the Year award. Given that Schwartz adapted the screenplay himself, one would think that lightning might just be coaxed into striking twice. Not so.

Connelly is Oscar-worthy in her portrayal of a mother's devastation

Reservation Road is a drama with unhealthy aspirations of being a thriller. Although there are no moments where Phoenix takes up arms and initiates blood-soaked carnage—as in the films mentioned at the outset of this review—the script wants to make you think the film could go in that direction at any moment. A thoughtful and intelligent look at the motivations behind revenge and the terrible path to which it leads is bypassed in favor of melodramatic theatrics.

The script relies on lazy manipulation to advance the plot. At several points in the film, Dwight tries to confess to the crime, only to be shrugged aside by authorities supposedly too busy to listen to what he has to say. Furthermore, as Ethan slides deeper into his vengeful quest, his railings on the importance of justice become increasingly heavy-handed. When he finally puts the puzzle pieces together and determines that the man he is after has been right beneath his nose the entire time, the reveal feels forced and conveniently implausible.

The fact that the script is built on such moments, rather than simply trips over them occasionally, transforms a film with tremendous potential into a tremendous dud. There is no catharsis to speak of, no emotional remuneration worth the tedium that precedes it. It might be different if the film took more time at the end to probe the process of how one wrestles with profound loss or how another eschews culpability for causing incalculable agony. However, the film presents no such insight into the psyches of either man.

Ethan wants justice … but may be leaning toward revenge instead

The story, as it is written, does not allow time nor the breathing room for reality. We are never permitted

to see Ethan or Grace wrestle with the Really Big Questions, the sort that, regardless of religious belief, parents in the midst of such a tragedy are bound to have. We yearn for something. Anything. Where is God in the midst of such heartbreak? Where is, at the very least, the fire-breathing, vitriolic tirade insisting such a tragedy "proves" God does not exist in the first place? That, at the very least, would be understandable.

But instead of grappling with these types of issues, the film instantly shoehorns Ethan into vengeance-seeking mode. While Grace is allowed a few more moments of grief, its scarcity is based on the fact that the script calls for her to manufacture closure almost immediately to keep the family running smoothly in her husband's emotional absence.

Reservation Road commits to a situation in which we are shown the dangers of demonizing another human being, yet delivers no emotional payoff. How do you see beyond the vilified monster you've created in your own mind? What are the end results of giving oneself wholly over to anger and the need for retribution? How do you even begin to grieve or go back to your normal life following a tragedy? These questions are asked, but the film doesn't care to follow through with any answers.

Talk About It

1. The Old Testament speaks of a scale of justice that demands an eye for an eye. Do you feel that such commands are still relevant today, or do you, like Gandhi, feel that such actions blind the entire world? Why or why not?

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