It has the hallmarks of a Clint Eastwood enterprise—unfussy direction, an efficient but unhurried pace, moderately entertaining but nothing special—and is, like most of his directorial output this century, loosely based on a true story. Eastwood himself plays the title character, Earl Stone, a successful Illinois horticulturalist and failed husband and father who, having his lost his business to the internet, earns cash by transporting drugs in his pickup truck from El Paso back to Chicago. Earl is surprised when he learns on the third or fourth drive that his cargo is narcotic in nature—what did he think it was?)—but the film doesn't even think to ask what his thought process is after that, how an 80-something war veteran and upstanding citizen rationalizes breaking the law. Sure, non-introspective characters are another Eastwood hallmark, but it’s a liability when there’s nothing else to hang the movie on; DEA agents played by Bradley Cooper and Michael Peña are closing in on the cartel, but there’s little attempt at suspense. Eastwood just ambles along, complaining about the internet and cellphones, being folksy-ly racist, telling what should have been a fascinating story in a rather pointless way.
By
Eric D. Snider