“Parkland” is a missed opportunity, the opportunity being to tell the story of the assassination of JFK in a way that is human. There’s great potential for that here: a historical ensemble piece, it looks at the assassination from the perspective of the seemingly insignificant supporting players it impacted, the ones who watched from the cheering crowds as President John F. Kennedy was shot dead and the ones who were listening to their radios and watching their TVs when they heard that their President had been murdered. Writer-director Peter Landesman’s film looks at a familiar story from an unfamiliar angle, which might’ve been more interesting if the usually glossed-over individuals on whom it shines a light weren’t still in wanting of some serious fleshing out.
The supporting players, here standing in the spotlight, are are such: Abraham Zapruder, whose much-scrutinised 8mm home movie of Kennedy’s motorcade passing by inadvertently captured the moment Kennedy was shot; the doctors and nurses who tried in vain to resuscitate Kennedy’s body at Parkland Memorial Hospital; the Secret Service chief in charge of protecting Kennedy; the two FBI agents who discovered they had the chance to catch shooter Lee Harvey Oswald and flubbed it; and Oswald’s older brother Robert, who on November 22nd, 1963 heard on the radio that his little brother had shot and killed the most important man in the world. For 90 minutes, we jump back and forth between their experiences throughout that dark day and the days that followed. The result is skilfully edited and shot with urgency by Barry Ackroyd, but as a drama it leaves much to be desired.
I went into “Parkland” thinking, “This’ll be interesting, I don’t know much about these people.” And you know what I thought when I came out of it? “I still don’t know that much about these people.” It’s well performed by the likes of Paul Giamatti, Billy Bob Thornton and James Badge Dale (each of whom give affecting performances while playing cardboard cut-outs), but Landesman fails to get underneath their characters’ skin and find what makes them tick. Zac Efron’s Dr. Carrico is particularly empty, Efron required only to look a bit dazed when Kennedy’s body is wheeled into the operating room and then upset when Kennedy flatlines.
Landesman’s script has insight, but not into who these people are/were, only into what they did. It all feels like a news report, ticking off all the important facts but struggling to wring out much compelling drama or suspense — I wasn’t too surprised to learn after viewing the film that Landesman was in fact a journalist. If one were wishing to commemorate Kennedy’s memory with a movie, Oliver Stone’s “JFK” would be a safer bet: it’s a full-blooded drama with real meat on its bones. By comparison, “Parkland” feels like a half-heated microwave dinner.
Rating: 5/10
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