We all wish we could change the past, in the hopes of altering the trajectory of our lives – it’s a seemingly universal experience to hold some regrets, even if they are small and relatively inconsequential. For some people, the remorse felt for the past can develop into something much darker and more insidious, and we soon learn that the more one dwells on what cannot be changed, the further they descend into a state of anger and despair, from which escape is nearly impossible. This served as the foundation for The Crossing Guard, in which Sean Penn makes his directorial debut, telling the story of a wealthy but lonely man who finds out that the person who killed his daughter years before has been released from prison, and he decides to honour his promise to kill him, since he does not believe a few years of incarceration are enough punishment for someone whose own reckless actions led to the destruction of his entire family. It’s a tricky subject, especially for someone making their debut as a director, but it proves to be quite an intriguing affair, with Penn’s steadfast commitment to telling this story in a way that is subtle but moving proving to be quite extraordinary, and it helps us understand the deeper meaning behind what appears to be quite a simple story of revenge. There are several merits to the film, which is why its status as a relatively under-discussed project is somewhat inexplicable, especially at a time when these mid-level social dramas were at their peak, being produced by filmmakers who knew how to capture the audience’s attention with such simple but fascinating premises. A strong remnant from this era, and a film that may be slightly out-of-touch in terms of its political and social repertoire, The Crossing Guard is still a solid effort, especially if taken at face value.

The Crossing Guard is quite a simple film, but it doesn’t present itself as such at the start – Penn adheres to the tactic of throwing some disparate information at the viewer in the first few minutes, not offering any explanation and instead forcing us to try and connect them. This takes the form of the first scene switching between three perspectives – he doesn’t have any idea how these characters are connected, or what the story is about, until we eventually come to realise what is being explored soon afterwards. It’s a common method to pique the audience’s curiosity, and it luckily only lasts a few minutes before the story begins to settle into itself. We soon learn that this is a film about two profoundly lonely men who are trapped in the prison of their own minds, bound to the grief they feel about the past – their only difference is that one chooses to move on with this next chapter, while the other is intent on getting revenge for what he feels was a great injustice, and one that can only be solved with violence. This is obviously not the case, since the film spends two hours examining these two men and how they deal with their own sense of remorse and psychological despair, actually finding similarities between their wildly different mindsets that ultimately lead to the final confrontation in which they discover that it is possible to move forward and overcome the past if we simply allow those wounds to heal. It’s a very obvious narrative and one that feels heavily steeped in this kind of morality tale that was common at the time, and while it isn’t particularly daring in how it handles a lot of this material, it does gradually start to develop quite an interesting perspective on a number of subjects, particularly around the tendency for some people to resort to violence as the only way to resolve their issues and overcome the past, which is a prescient topic that has never been more relevant than it is today, when we continue to see blood being shed over several issues that could just be resolved through dialogue.

One of the most significant assets Penn had when choosing to make this is debut is that Jack Nicholson signed on to play the lead – at this point in his career, Nicholson was arguably the most famous actor in Hollywood, and could do just about anything, which led him to take on a couple of roles that were not particularly notable for giving him anything valuable to do, but rather play off his carefully cultivated persona, which led to allegations that he constantly played himself in the latter half of his career. The Crossing Guard proves this to be hyperbolic, because Nicholson delivers some of his most nuanced, subtle work to date in this beautiful, harrowing exploration of the mourning process, where he plays a man whose grief takes the form of erratic behaviour that alienates him from everyone he previously loved. Considering Nicholson was known for his effusive charm and quick wit, it’s a curious change to see him playing a role that is far more nuanced and quiet – there are moments of excess, but they are quite rare and only emerge later on, once we have become acclimated to this character and his psychological state. The underrated David Morse plays the subject of the character’s ire, and he proves to be the perfect blend of intimidating and stoic, while Anjelica Huston appears for a few scenes as the heartbroken mother who simply wants to move on with her life, refusing to allow a tragic event to define her, something that simply cannot get through to her ex-husband, who urges her to join him in his quest for vengeance. As a character study, The Crossing Guard is certainly very solid, and its simple storyline allows the actors to develop these roles into three-dimensional individuals, elevating the material along the way.

There are elements to The Crossing Guard that do leave quite a bit to be desired, and the relative inexperience of Penn as a director does show, particularly in terms of the tone – it is quite a jagged film, and it oscillates between melodrama and gritty psychological thriller, and while this is not necessarily an element that disqualifies the film from being worth our time, it is something that we do notice as we make our way through the story, which seems to be better suited to a more experienced hand, and it almost seems as if Penn is trying to mimic the likes of Sidney Lumet and early Martin Scorsese in this quiet, meditative character study that devolves into a violent revenge thriller after a while. However, Penn is still someone with a keen vision, and he does put in enough effort to overcome these challenges, especially considering the subject matter with which he was working. It is undeniably difficult to make a film about such harrowing subject matter that doesn’t repel the audience – the concept of the death of a child, and the onslaught of trauma and despair that occurs in the aftermath, is certainly not at all easy to embrace, and there wasn’t any possibility to make it in such a way that it would not be profoundly uncomfortable and quite unsettling at the best of times. Penn does admirably well in this regard, and while the overall intention was to be a bleak, haunting examination of trauma and the feeling of revenge that can come to those who want to blame someone else for their loss, the film chooses to focus on other aspects that make it richer and more interesting. It may take the form of quite a simple fable about the virtue of forgiveness, but we eventually find that there is something much more compelling about the film, and while the emotions are not immune to becoming heavy-handed after a while, it still manages to be quite impactful in a small but meaningful way.

As a whole, The Crossing Guard doesn’t seem like the kind of film that demands our attention – the subject matter is cold and harsh, and the film reflects this atmosphere throughout the story, every moment feeling like it is building up on the tension, until we get to the harrowing conclusion, where we finally get the experience this catharsis alongside the protagonist as he finally finds forgiveness in his heart for the man who he blames for ruining his life. The message is obvious and about as direct as we would expect, which may lead to something of an overwrought ending, but it at least is honest about what it intended to achieve, which was a complex depiction of a man realizing that violence, despite being his first urge, is never the answer, and that the only way forward is to forgive and hope that he can break the cycle of bloodshed that has caused so much suffering in his life and that of the people he loved. Anchored by a wonderful performance from Nicholson, who delivers some of his most sublime, complex work, and driven by a genuine sense of commitment to the overarching message, The Crossing Guard is a solid film – its cliches are clear but not detrimental, and while it does struggle to find a consistent tone, it ultimately doesn’t feel too off-kilter to earn our respect, which is essentially the intended outcome of a film that frequently aimed to convey a particular message, which it does with earnestness and a lot of sincerity, even if the final project can be quite brutal in how it delivers a very simple sentiment.