The 15:17 to Paris

The 15:17 to Paris reenacts the events of August 15, 2015, when three brave Americans thwarted a terrorist attack on the afternoon train from Amsterdam to Paris. In addition to a detailed staging of the incident, which only lasts a few minutes, the film also tells the backstory of the three guys: their troubled childhoods, meandering adolescences, and the events that led to their European vacation and climaxed in that fateful train trip. What sets this picture apart from the average docudrama is that the three men—Spencer Stone, Anthony Sadler and Alek Skarlatos—all play themselves.

One might think a story of real-life American heroism told from a personal perspective would be an ideal project for director Clint Eastwood—whose late-career movies like Flags of Our Fathers, American Sniper, and Sully all focus on similarly distinctive acts of bravery, skill, and competence. But Eastwood turns out to be the worst possible choice for this picture.

The laconic, eighty-eight year old movie-star-turned-filmmaker is famous for being an “actor’s director,” in that he leaves his casts alone to do their work; eschewing rehearsals, shooting few takes, minimizing on-set distractions, and interfering as little as possible with an actor’s process. That may be a great method when working with the likes of Morgan Freeman, Meryl Streep, or the other seasoned professionals that usually star in an Eastwood production. But in this case, Stone, Sadler, and Skarlatos, who have no acting experience, are left dangling in front of Eastwood’s camera, wandering around the frame trying so hard to be natural that they barely register. 

Eastwood is also known for shooting the exact script he first reads and agrees to produce—often a first draft—rather than working with writers to tailor the screenplay to his specific vision. Again, this is an admirable approach if the script is a masterpiece like Unforgiven, but in an increasing number of cases (J. Edgar and Hereafter come to mind) the results are bland and lifeless. Such is the case with first-timer Dorothy Blyskal’s screenplay for The 15:17 to Paris, which is based on the joint autobiography written by the three heroes with Jeffrey E. Stern. The inert, expository script lacks any complexity, conflict, or character details that aren’t spelled out with cringe-worthy dialogue ranging from overt and preachy to mind-numbingly banal.  Mercifully, Eastwood's usual bloated running time, another unfortunate byproduct of his directorial manor, is not the case in this ninety-five minute picture. However, the film’s middle section, in which the guys wander around Italy, Germany, and Amsterdam taking selfies, muttering mundane observations and offering insipid quasi-existential monologues on their possible spiritual purpose in life, feels like it goes on for hours.