Mark Reviews Movies: PALMER

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Review by Mark Dujsik | January 28, 2021

When Eddie Palmer (Justin Timberlake) comes home after spending a dozen or so years away, not much has changed. His old friends from high school are still around the small Louisiana town where he lived until college. The friends haven't changed much, either, even though they're now married or divorced and have kids. People here still talk a lot, too, about each other and about strangers behind their backs, for the purposes of easy gossip and having a reason to judge someone else—for whatever reason a person might be inclined to do such a thing.

Palmer, as he likes to be called instead of his first name, is both a hometown boy—the former star quarterback of the local high school football team, who made good on a full scholarship to university—and a stranger around these parts—a young man who let all that promise disappear for reasons that nobody really knows or particularly cares to learn. His friends still treat him as they would have back in the old days. Everyone else kind of looks at Palmer sideways, barely acknowledging him with a nod or a hushed greeting or some pleasantly curt excuse for getting away from him.

There's something of a mystery to the man, although it isn't too much of one. Palmer was in prison for most of the time that he has been away from this town. His crime couldn't have been too meager, if only for the amount of time he has been away and the severity with which the downhome kindness of the local population is tested when he's near them. He's on parole, too, so it's not as if Palmer is completely clear of whatever it is he did about 12 years ago. There's a lot hanging over this guy's head and resting on his shoulders, as he tries to put something of a life back in order.

The central character and the primary scenario of Palmer, then, aren't too special or unique, but this is a film that has its fairly generous heart in the right place. Palmer is no victim or saint or figure of especial nobility. He's just an ordinary man who made a big mistake, owned up to it, spent his time legally atoning for it, and doesn't try to hide his past or make excuses for his actions. It's not much, but under the circumstances, it certainly seems significant.

If one were to ask Palmer what he did to end up in prison and now on parole, he'd probably tell that person straight. Nobody around here, though, really has to ask. They all know, and how they react to that knowledge and Palmer's sudden return says what we need to know about them, too.

The story of this film, written by screenwriter Cheryl Guerriero, isn't especially complicated. Palmer returns to his hometown after being released on parole, and he moves in with his grandmother Vivian (June Squibb), who raised him after his mother left (when the boy was 5) and his father died (while Palmer was in high school).

In theory, he only has a few priorities: to find a job, to keep checking in with his parole officer, and to stay out of trouble. Only one of these is relatively easy, and even after the difficult part of getting a job when everyone in town knows what Palmer did, staying out of trouble becomes the real challenge, as the man takes on more responsibility than he had planned or expected.

Basically, Palmer begins looking after a young boy named Sam (Ryder Allen), who lives in a trailer with his mother Shelly (Juno Temple) and her boyfriend (played by Dean Winters) on Vivian's property. Shelly, with whom Palmer has a drunken night of likely regretful sex after his return, disappears. This isn't new, and Vivian is ready and willing to make sure Sam is fed, has a place to sleep, and gets to school every day. One morning, Vivian doesn't wake up, and Palmer is left as the kid's unofficial guardian.

There's a real, genuine tenderness to this relationship, which Guerriero and director Fisher Stevens treat with care and sensitivity. Sam likes things that society usually deems only for girls, and he's regularly bullied for it. At first, Palmer finds the kid's interests odd, but then, he warms up to Sam, who doesn't judge Palmer—unlike so many others around here—and, without any other family, is as lost as the man himself felt at so many times in his life. Palmer starts taking the boy to school, where Palmer works as a janitor, and strikes up a friendship, which inevitability becomes more, with Sam's pretty, compassionate teacher Maggie (Alisha Wainwright).

It's all very simple, yes, but the character of Palmer—a man who kind of falls into decency and goodness because of the circumstances and his own realization of how much of that he missed in his own life—and the performance from Timberlake—who suggests less of an evolution for the character and more of a shedding of Palmer's tough, wounded exterior—carry the material a long way. The film doesn't make a big deal of seemingly momentous occurrences (until the third act, in which the cops and the judicial system get involved in Palmer's behavior, trying to protect the boy in the only ways he knows, and Sam's future, when his family ultimately returns). It understands that little moments of compassion, thoughtfulness, and honesty make all the difference.

That's what we get from Palmer—a series of little moments, such as Palmer comfortably referring to Sam as "son," that lead to a big, affecting payoff. It's touching and, more importantly, sincere.

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