When do we forgive? - Some thoughts on the Golden Globes win of 'Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri'

(Fox Searchlight)

The 75^th annual Golden Globes have come and gone. The night was climaxed by a fitting and well-deserved awarding of the coveted Best Picture – Drama trophy to Guillermo del Toro’s The Shape of Wa… Wait, my bad. The award actually went to Steven Spielberg’s freedom of the press drama The Post. Oh, that’s not right either. It was Christopher Nolan’s masterpiece Dunkirk? Nope. It was Martin McDonough’s Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri.

Who would have thought?

Jokes aside, I was quite shocked when that long, droll title was read aloud—it just seemed wrong. I quickly opened Twitter on my phone, and sure enough, there was a long list of fellow cinephiles outraged by the choice. Many of their thoughts were considerably harsher than mine.

This morning I made a trip to the cinema to see Three Billboards for a second time. I couldn’t stop thinking about why the Hollywood Foreign Press Association would award a film like this on a night so dominated by political outcries (and rightly so).

It’s all but fact now that none of these award shows operate as true meritocracies. Voting involves politics, appearances, and lobbying, and then quality and innovation will occasionally come into play. So what does Three Billboards winning Best Picture at the Globes say?

I want to be very clear that I think Three Billboards is a very good film. It’s maybe even a great one. It would not be my choice for Best Picture, but I think it would be foolish to argue that it is without merit.

I won’t reveal anything too specific about the film’s story, as I’m sure many reading have yet to see it, but much of the criticism stems from a plot point where a character who was racist, volatile, and violent suddenly become a better person worthy of redemption.

Last night’s ceremony was exceedingly political, with women’s rights at the forefront and freedom of press and racial equality sneaking around the edges. 2017 was a disastrous year, with the election of Donald Trump revealing deeply entrenched racism, sexism, homophobia, and other prejudices present within a frighteningly large portion of the American population that many (myself included) didn’t think was still so widespread. Trump gave them a voice, and we were treated with a rude awakening as many of these people were emboldened to make their thoughts known (white supremacists marching in Charlottesville was the big one).

So, yeah, giving Best Picture to a film where the racist is more or less forgiven by the conclusion is understandably upsetting.

But I am reminded of a conversation I had with my family recently about Senator Al Franken, who was accused of sexual harassment and assault and has since announced his resignation from office. Of the countless accusations last year, Franken’s was the most personally difficult. He had done great things as a Senator in my home state and I wish the reports were false. But to give him special treatment because of his prior political actions would be hypocritical. Franken had to go, and I believe his resignation was appropriate.

Some of my family members were less convinced. They weren’t ready to label Franken as a completely bad person, believing the many good things he did in office prevented this (though did not excuse his misconduct altogether).

While I still don’t think this line of thought is completely correct, I do think it raises a very important question we need to be asking right now: At what point do we forgive?

People have done some truly terrible things in this country (objectifying, harassing, and assaulting women, systemically discriminating people of color, supporting politicians who work only for their own personal gain, just to name a few), and we are right to be utterly furious. But if we truly want to see the world and the people in it change, then we need to consider when we can say someone has made up for their wrongdoings.

We attack the people who think racist or sexist thoughts, but we never give them the opportunity to change. And by doing this, we are potentially dooming the world to continue breeding hatred for generations on end, with progress only coming from those born and raised believing in equality, not from those taught to change their ways.

It’s important that my words here are not misinterpreted. I am not even considering that racism, sexism, and the like are in any way excusable. They’re not. That’s not something anyone can argue. But with Three Billboards on my mind, I’m wondering if there is any point where the racists, the sexists, and the like can do enough good, can make enough changes to themselves and their communities, that we can begin to forgive and accept them.

I’m not going to pretend to know the answer to this. As far as I can tell, there is no right or wrong answer telling us who can or cannot become a good person again and how they can or cannot do that. But with all the hatred and injustice present in our country, perhaps Three Billboards wants us to consider giving others the opportunity to change their life for the better.

There’s more to the film than just that, and in some ways this article oversimplifies the narrative of a film that refuses to play things in black and white. In reference to this specific moment, however, I think this is what we should be taking away from it.

In no way do I think Three Billboards deserved to win Best Picture. I’m personally torn between The Shape of Water and Dunkirk. But in an era where the films we celebrate with golden trophies need to say something beyond what great filmmaking looks like, The Shape of Water is the competitor we should be triumphing. That said, there is still a lesson in Three Billboards’ victory. Not that it’s the best film, not that it is without its problems, and not that bad people can magically become good, but that we need to be thinking about whether we can forgive and when we can forgive. If awarding the film makes us talk about anything, it should be that.