2) Gone Baby Gone (2007)
Gone Baby Gone was Ben Affleck’s first attempt at directing, and one of the major roles for Casey Affleck that really began the younger brother’s widespread recognition. A neo-noir, darkness soaked crime drama about the kidnap of a little girl from poor inner city Boston, that included masterfully handled moments ranging from emotional anguish to sheer abhorrence, it was a highly commendable debut. Unfortunately, however, the movie’s release date in 2007 was considered to be too close to that of the sudden disappearance of British three year old Madeline McCann during a family holiday in Portugal in 2003, and it was delayed out of respect.
Whereas it is true that there are some parallels between Gone Baby Gone and the Madeline McCann case, they are entirely irrelevant. The movie had long since finished production by the time Madeline disappeared, and any similarities were purely coincidental. The movie was finally released in 2008, but remained deep in controversy and inaccurate speculation about exploitation of real life events.
Gone Baby Gone’s finest achievement is its continual sense of moral ambiguity. Three year-old Amanda disappeared from her bed one night, and the police have no leads. Private detectives Patrick and Angie are called in by Amanda’s distraught aunt, on account of the failure of the police – and the shockingly neglectful attitude of Amanda’s alcoholic, drug addicted mother Helene, who – it transpires – is actually aware that Amanda may have been taken in revenge for Helene having robbed a local drug lord during a drop.
Amy Ryan was nominated for a Golden Globe award for her portrayal of the rough-speaking, aggressive, hardened Helene, whose lassiez-faire attitude to her daughter’s disappearance is tempered with occasional moments of touchingly honest fear and loss. But the question of how far she really cares about Amanda, especially when the choice is between her daughter and her lifestyle, lingers continually in the background. And this ambiguity is not restricted to Helene.
Throughout the movie, the private detectives realize that there is a growing sense that no-one in this situation is to be trusted. Almost everyone in Amanda’s life, even those who truly love her – such as her uncle – are guilty of having made some seriously morally questionable moves. The ultimate example, of course, is the fact that it is actually chief of police Jack Doyle (Morgan Freeman) who has taken Amanda. Although the aim may have been to save this little girl from a wretched life, and although Patrick knows that she is happy in this new home in which she can have a normal childhood, she has still been taken unlawfully – and her mother has every right to be given back her daughter.
But the movie’s ultimate question is does she, really? This is the dilemma with which Patrick is faced, when he finally finds Amanda at Doyle’s house. Does he do his ‘moral duty’ and report the kidnapping, thus reuniting Amanda with her mother? Or does he act in what are most likely Amanda’s best interests, and do nothing? Is there really a finally right answer to the situation? Patrick decides that there is a right answer, and he calls the police. Amanda is brought home to her mother, Doyle is arrested – the case is closed.
Then, in the final scene, Patrick goes to visit Helene and Amanda at home. There is definitely a sense of closure here – for Amanda, for her mother, and for Patrick – a closure that everyone was searching for, and a closure that Patrick finally brought about. But should it really have been this closure? Into the series of brief shots before the last scene, Afleck drips a steadily increasing sense of uncertainty.
We see Amanda’s unwillingness to leave the Doyles, and the glimpse of her huddled in the back of the police car as they bring her back to her mother – but these moments are set against a reaction from her mother that is appropriate in emotion and in words, and the cheerful reports from the TV news anchors, and the newspapers. Once Patrick is standing in the family home, however, that uncertainty suddenly graduates into fully fledged doubt.
Amanda is slumped un-movingly on a dirty sofa, watching cartoons while her mother bustles about the dingy house, chatting, laughing, and flirting with Patrick as she gets ready for a date. Swearing freely, and paying Amanda no attention, Helene casually brushes the subject of Amanda’s return aside and announces that she’s going to be late. As she hasn’t arranged a sitter for Amanda, she asks Patrick if he’d mind watching her. Helene then grabs a tattered, greying doll from the coffee table and dumps it on Amanda’s lap as she goes by. With a brief thanks to Patrick she is gone, the door slamming behind her.
There is silence, apart from the cartoons. Patrick sits down next to Amanda. She corrects him when he asks the name of her doll, but then there is silence again as the camera moves to its final shot of Patrick in this bleak room, sitting next to an ignored little girl who – he is unavoidably starting to realize – has nothing to look forward to except neglect, loneliness, and a probable life of drugs and abuse.
This shot is a full 45 seconds long, the time stretching out so far that it almost becomes uncomfortable to watch. This, of course, is the aim: The length of the shot represents the endless monotony of Amanda’s life, the gradual growth of Patrick’s inescapable doubt that he made the right decision – and the awful finality of the fact that however much he may question his choice, it is too late.
