Dallas Buyers Club

I’m trying to keep a balance on Dallas Buyers Club. 

The plus side is packed. Exposing the corrupt stranglehold American big pharma and the FDA have on the health system — that would probably survive even a functioning Obamacare — is as vital a challenge as any artist — or, dare we dream, politician? — could take on nowadays. The transformative but deeply felt performances of Matthew McConaughey and Jared Leto are strong enough to crack the David Russell team’s Oscar grip. McConaughey’s reforming redneck is so compelling yet nuanced he saves the film from sinking into an Aaron Brokovich. 

Canadian director Jean-Marc Vallee does a superb job of exploring a social terrain possibly as remote to him as that of his The Young Victoria. One felicitous touch among many: the film’s last shot is of Woodroof on a bucking bronc. The film closes on a freeze. By hanging up there forever he’s an image of his last 30 days lasting seven years. But also—one life/death affecting the stretching future. Does our hero last the ride, score some points, maybe even win a few bucks? We’ll never know. Because it doesn’t matter.    Just as whether he managed to transform the FDA into compassionate sense doesn’t matter. All that counts is that he tried. He took on the irrational beast and did what he could.  

But then there’s a bit of a negative side. For such an important social issue, the film still seems oddly commercialized. Somebody’s judgment gland failed when police buddy Tucker crops up every time our boy gets into trouble. Is the Dallas cop shop so small that one guy will plausibly be so often there? Those happy accidents give the otherwise well oiled plot a creak.

More problematic is the film’s sentimentality. The film grabs every conceivable chance to wring our heart-strings. There’s the ubiquitous Tucker’s drama in the grocery aisle, the tension between the dewy-eyed Good Doctor and her Bad Doc boss, Woodroof’s obligatory eruption at the hospital after Rayon’s death, the gang’s cliche clap at his return from court. I know this vat of sugar makes the social comment pill go down, but it risks acid reflux. 

Why couldn’t we have been led to think some more rather than just emotionally to gush? For example, are there not any reasons to justify the FDA’s insistence on testing drugs before admitting them? Have there not been nightmare cases on the other side? Any criminal activity without the present rationalization perhaps? 
     While I enjoyed the ride as much as anyone, I soon found myself wondering what a European film on this subject might have been. Without the driving motive to leave its audience feeling good — catharsized, “calm of  mind, all passion spent” — we might have had a film that provided a more circumspect and comprehensive approach to its so very important subject matter.