A solid TV series disguised as a middling indie feature
If there’s one sure thing when it comes to the distinction between film and TV, it’s that what works on the small screen won’t always work on the big one. History is littered with examples of TV wizards trying to bring their talents to theater screens with oftentimes shaky results. While it’s not a question of talent, the transition from one medium to another has to do with an understanding in the differences between story pacing, character motivation, and the many other unique sensibilities which accompany both formats. The most high-profile case of someone venturing outside their TV wheelhouse as of late was This is Us creator Dan Fogelman’s dire “life-affirming” drama Life Itself, which quickly took the title of “bomb of the year,” while the aforementioned series soared. Vying for membership in this club no one wants to belong to is Joe Chappelle, whose writing/producing work on The Wire, Fringe, and Chicago Fire gave him enough clout to craft the indie political thriller An Acceptable Loss. Despite some very notable flourishes which make the film slightly worth checking out, the film proves the switching from TV to film is still very much a tricky one.
In an effort to escape her past as a top U.S. security advisor, Elizabeth/Libby (Tika Sumpter) has sought out a teaching position at a college in Chicago while trying to deal with her part in the monumental evaporation of a middle eastern country under the orders of a commanding Vice President (Jamie Lee Curtis). As Elizabeth decides to chronicle the secret true details of her part in the events via a series of longhand-written note pads, the silent presence of a mysterious graduate student named Martin (Ben Tavassoli) lingers over her as she comes face to face with her past.
So many elements signify that An Acceptable Loss was made by someone who comes from the TV world, with the biggest of these being the rapid-fire speed at which major events and ideologies take place amongst the characters. Alliances shift, and journeys that carry dramatic heft occur in the blink of an eye. Plot moves which would ordinarily each deserve their own episode within a TV series are shortchanged through montages in the most clumsy ways possible. There also seems to be a need on Chappelle’s part (clearly influenced by the 42 minute time limit per episode he’s undoubtedly used to) for speeding up the proceedings. The result is a movie where ACTUAL talking is seldom done in an effort to discover who the people in An Acceptable Loss really are. Where Chappelle’s TV sensibilities really come to serve him well, however, is in the script’s architecture. We see events play out not in chronological order, but rather in a mixing of the past and the present. The film opens moments after Libby has sanctioned the move which irrevocably changed her life before flashing forward to her first day on campus where she’s greeted by a group of demonstrators protesting her arrival. There’s truth in this way of telling the story, and Chappelle knows this. He’s exploring Libby as she is now: a woman trying to create a future for herself but who is continuously held captive by her past.
It’s that theme of the past which fuels the storytelling fires of An Acceptable Loss. The film is certainly plot-driven for sure and eventually becomes a different movie altogether in its third act, kicking up the tension in ways which thankfully never feel overdone. But it’s the character of Libby which makes the film so intriguing. As the symbol of a top-ranking government official whose moves and decisions contain so much gravity, the character is a thoughtful exploration into answering the question: How does one with so much responsibility and power reconcile themselves with the choices they’ve made? In Libby’s case, they don’t. They, like she, become ghosts; virtual specters visible only to those who remember their past actions. Libby exists only because the fact that she’s still living forces her to. But she is so wounded that an actual desire to have a life in the real world away from her haunting past is not even possible for her. Praise must be given to Chappelle for placing two such compelling alpha females at the center of his film. Specifically, it’s both women’s relationship with power which makes their dynamic so interesting to watch. While Rachel (Curtis) lets it flow through her as she tries to justify the reasons behind her decisions other than professional gain, Libby finds herself consumed by it to the point where she’s left damaged and empty from it. By the time An Acceptable Loss has concluded, though, both women’s outlooks on the power they wielded has essentially flipped, with Libby having faced hers and Rachel now the one forever haunted.
While mostly known for her beauty in past roles, Sumpter proves herself and manages to carry her role thanks to the torturous pensiveness she projects. The actress hones in on the demons of her character’s past and lets them radiate through all of the choices she makes on behalf of her character. Although his role has him largely looming and brooding for much of the film’s first half, Tavassoli is able to project obsession in a compellingly controlled way without ever indulging in the manic theatrics which come easily with this sort of role. Finally, Curtis puts in some of her best film work in some time as a woman who has built a guard up around herself but whose belief in the strength and force of what she’s doing unleashes a figure not to be reckoned with. It’s the most concentrated and electric the actress has been in some time.
As much of a mixed bag as An Acceptable Loss is, enough about it works to the point where it becomes easy to envision a more elevated version of it. With some script tweaking, who couldn’t picture the likes of Halle Berry, Helen Mirren, and Riz Ahmed in the same premise from a studio with a track record with such material like Bleeker Street or Focus Features behind it? At the same time, there’s no denying some of the Chappelle’s capabilities as a film director (his previous effort Phantoms remains a guilty pleasure for a number of horror fans). Still, it’s more possible to imagine Chappelle’s creation as a “limited series event” with its various twists thoughtfully explored via one of the many TV platforms committed to telling this kind of story. As it stands however, An Acceptable Loss title proves incredibly apt; it’s a solid project lost in the entertainment crosshairs which feels like a starkly resonant TV series smushed and crammed into an oftentimes clumsy feature film deserving far better than this.
