Eastwood’s character replies, “We all have it comin’, kid.”

That statement stands as the binding theme in the filmmaker’s latest
work, “Mystic River.” Throughout this stark, brooding drama, the
working-class residents of a Boston community are bound by the sins
of their past.

For his 24th directorial effort, Eastwood wrangles a number of
memorable performances from his acting ensemble. This crime-oriented portrait of characters snared by their environment leads to an excruciatingly powerful buildup … before it surrenders to
contrivance in the final act.

It’s tempting to say this is Sean Penn’s finest performance in a
career filled with notable work. Penn plays Jimmy, the toughest of
three childhood friends who shared a shattering incident together.
During a routine game of street hockey, a pair of molesters posing as
policemen pulled up in their car and convinced one of the boys to
take a ride while the others looked on.

Grown up but living in the same neighborhood, the three have taken
different paths to adulthood. Jimmy is an ex-con trying to run a
legitimate business along with his wife (Laura Linney) and three
daughters. Sean (Kevin Bacon) is now a homicide detective. Dave (Tim
Robbins) is marginally employed, married (to Marcia Gay Harden) and
raising a young son.

Each of the men is dealing with their own private guilt, whether it’s
the fact that Sean’s wife left six months ago, Jimmy’s criminal past
has left him emotionally hollow or that Dave is just plain “damaged
goods.” The implication is that the fateful incident from their youth
tarnished each of them in some way.

When Jimmy’s oldest daughter (Emmy Rossum) is murdered while coming home from a night out, the three are reunited. Sean takes charge of the investigation and is stunned to find out that Dave may have been connected to the crime.

Vowing to find the killer before the police do, Jimmy vents, “I know
in my heart that I contributed to your death, but I don’t know how.”

Based on Dennis Lehane’s recent novel and scripted by Brian Helgeland (“L.A. Confidential”), the story is a standard police procedural on the surface. Yet the movie works as a collection of well-acted scenes
that inevitably examine the legacy of guilt.

Eastwood’s best moments stem from how he handles the interaction of
his A-list cast. The conversations and confrontations even during
uneventful stretches seem weighed down by years of past baggage.

Penn is especially good as the “hard case” who is shown going through
the painful responsibilities of making funeral arrangements and
picking out tombstones for his slain daughter. These are devastating
scenes, and Penn wisely underplays them. It’s the highest compliment
that can be paid to such a recognizable movie star when one can
absolutely forget who he is and wholly view him as a character on the
screen.

If only the story matched the quality of the performances.

For a movie so universally praised, it sure surrenders to some
significant missteps. (Critics who say “Mystic River” rivals Eastwood’s masterful “Unforgiven” need to go back and watch “Unforgiven” again.)

The most cringe-inducing inclusions involve Sean and his estranged
wife, who phones him at random and listens without ever speaking a
word. Eastwood shoots the actress in extreme closeup so we never
really get a clear look at her. The episodes are structured as if
when her face is eventually revealed she will be a person pivotal to
some other part of the plot … but she’s nobody.

How this couple’s relationship neatly resolves provides one of the
most artificial segments from any movie this year – right up there
with the pivotal hovercraft duel in “From Justin to Kelly.”

Additionally, the silly speech that Dave gives to his wife concerning
the vampire flicks he is watching on TV labors too hard to be a
METAPHOR about his personal mindset. Analogies like these work a lot
better when they aren’t completely spelled out as if the viewer is a
moron. The scene comes at a time when the movie needs to crank up the tension not the inadvertent comic relief.

But the true miscalculation is the film’s wanton manipulation of its audience.

There are too many key elements in “Mystic River” interjected merely
to obscure the real crime. Questionable timelines, coincidental blood
types and faux admissions of guilt are all presented with the sole
purpose of getting the viewer to believe one thing just so the plot
can haul out a new way to contradict this.

When the eventual details behind the murder are revealed, the
explanation moves into deus ex machina territory.

One can argue that the unifying factor of this drama is not about the
puzzle itself, but more the individual relationships caught up in it.
However, a movie that is structured like a whodunit has to clearly
justify how and why “who done it.”

Eastwood may be in love with his characters, but he shows little
regard for his audience.