“Finestkind,” the new drama from “L.A. Confidential” and “Mystic River” screenwriter and “42” director Brian Helgeland, is not a great movie, but some of it is fascinating, even when it doesn’t work. Easy to dismiss because some of its broad, ridiculous, and suspension-of-disbelief turns—it’s essentially about a New England fishing community band of brothers that turn to drug dealers and spiraling criminal consequences in order to get out of the illegal activities jam they’re already in—the plot is fairly uninspired and breaks suspension of disbelief early. But the story, which arguably doesn’t work entirely either— about the issues between fathers and sons, the emotional complexities of family and the legacies of dysfunctional past family traumas, and how we struggle to forgive, accept, and move on—is filled with an emotional texture that’s well-intentioned, occasionally resonant, and sometimes even features something resembling heart and soul.
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Eventually, it becomes obvious. As many dramatists have done before, Helgeland is attempting the classic technique of Trojan Horse’ing an intention. What Helgeland really wants to do, the meaningful element of the film, is explore the intricacies of family dynamics, the mistakes that scar us, and the toxic elements that build up between family members—particularly macho, taciturn men— and sometimes create irreparable fissures and grudges that cannot be overcome. In doing so, he creates a crime drama on top—set in the milieu of down-on-its-luck New England fishing communities—to sell it to audiences and make it palatable to audiences.
In this regard, “Finestkind”—an expression used in these same communities to mean “the best”—is also a very dad-rock movie. To extend that narrative further—dudes who can’t communicate, emotionally express themselves, or share, and are closed off from the world—is very Paramount/CBS, aka, the entire product feels like it’s lifted straight from the Taylor Sheridan-verse of “Yellowstone,” “Mayor Of Kingstown,” and these similarly told stories about patriarchs, family, the very specific communities and spaces they move through, and the environments that have shaped their lives.
And then you realize Sheridan is a producer, and the film is a product of 101 Studios and MTV Entertainment Studios, the companies that produce Sheridan’s TV works (which is interesting to think that, is anyone telling dramas about men, families, and communities like this taking their projects straight to Sheridan and co?). Politically, it’s very aligned, too, as most Sheridan-verse projects center on disenfranchised white men who aren’t Trumpers per se (though you can see how some of them easily could be) but seemingly have been alienated by the system and thus have abandoned it to make ends meet.
So “Finestkind” is interesting in what it’s trying to explore, what it’s trying to say about fathers and sons and family, and occasionally, there’s a soulfulness to it all—anyone who can relate to the melancholy feeling about family foundations that feel fundamentally broken, but continue to function anyhow. And there are strong performers and performances in it, too, that elevate the material. The nitty-gritty of the plot and the execution, however, is less successful.
“Finestkind” centers on a crew of fishermen treading dangerous waters when their debts start piling up. It centers on a pair of estranged brothers. The hardheaded and obdurate Tom (an always excellent Ben Foster) runs a fishing crew that includes local dudes like family man Costa (Ismael Cruz Córdova), the drug user Skeemo (Aaron Stanford), Nunes (Scott Tovar), and more. Like many of this community, they are very blue-collar, not educated beyond high school, live paycheck to paycheck, and spend a lot of time in bars. Tom is often butting heads with his bosses, the men that actually own the boats and the fisheries, and one day his younger half-brother Charlie (up-and-coming Aussie actor Toby Wallace, who feels very destined for bigger things) arrives and wants to put law school aside and reconnect with his brother by earning an honest living as a fisherman (alarm: in 2023, this feels hokey, and too idealistically contrived, no one is going to do that in this modern day).
After much ado and arguing, complications arise that force Tom’s hand; the fisherman eventually relents, Charlie joins the crew, and the brothers are back together shootin’ the shit on boats, working for a living, sharing beers, and swapping stories like dudes love to do in dingy bars. Eventually, the insolent Tom gets fired, sick of his shifty, privileged, rich white dude boss (Charlie Thurston), and they need a boat.
Enter Tom’s deeply estranged Dad, Eldridge (Tommy Lee Jones), who is not really on speaking terms with anyone in the family; the implication is too much damage has been done in the past to overlook. Eldridge eventually convinces Tom to take the boat, and the crew continues, but Tom, being the brazen rogue he is, flirts danger too many times by fishing illegally in Canadian coastal waters, getting impounded, and being hit with heavy fines that will put them all out of work.
Enter the far-less, convincing, credulity-straining drug-dealing story. In order to make ends meet and to pay to get their father’s impounded boat out of hock, Charlie’s drug-dealing girlfriend, Mabel (Jenna Ortega, the least believable drug dealer you will meet), may have solutions and connections for them.
Tom and the crew then go to work for local drug kingpin Pete Weeks (a charismatic Clayne Crawford who seems like he’s also poised for more), picking up drugs via boats, but as you’d expect, things go south fast, and then from bad to worse, nearly immediately (Tim Daly and Lolita Davidovich co-star, Daly doing privileged asshole white dude dad very well)
On a plot level, “Finestkind” then begins to sink quickly, with many of the New England cliches that have harmed the picture throughout doing it no favors either. Suspension of disbelief starts to grow as double-crosses and betrayals enter the already-convoluted picture, and Tommy Lee Jones’ father figure tries to fix things in one last gasp before it’s too late to reconcile things with his son.
Yet as “Finestkind” takes on so much water it becomes ridiculous to believe in, the story and performances between Foster and Jones sometimes contain moments of real soulful grit, arguably even poignant and painful elements of shame, regret, and failure from a father’s perspective. But anyone who’s ever had a complicated family (all of us?) should at least relate to some of it, at the very least, maybe some of the elements of a remorseful patriarch trying to set things right. Of course, some of this drama has its cliches too, but there are some elements here, particularly Carter Burwell’s affecting score, that make some of it undeniably moving (and yes, without that score, maybe none of it works, but Burwell is one of the best in the business for a reason). Cinematographer Crille Forsberg (David Bowie’s “Lazarus” music video) also gives the movie a grubby, grimy polish that makes it all feel real and lived-in.
Knock Helgeland’s unpersuasive plot, his broad writing platitudes, and some of the more ridiculous twists of the genre all you want, but the filmmaker at least seems to know, understand, and capture the milieu and people of these communities.
Sure, that’s not enough to save “Finestkind,” but there is something there. Foster and Jones are great as usual, and when they go toe to toe, sparks can fly. Wallace and Crawford are two bonafide discoveries that you will probably see a lot more of, and Carter Burwell does some serious heavy lifting with his musical prowess. “Finestkind” will be available on Paramount+ in December, the home to the Taylor Sheridan-verse. And while it’s likely not going to change many minds, there might be a very specific audience for it. And it’s fascinating to consider that the working man’s tough guy drama pipeline is alive and well and still being fed by all the related products born out of the ideas that Taylor Sheridan appears to hold near and dear and cultivate where he can. [C-]