Lakeview Terrace

(2009)

Dir: Neil LaBute

 

“Get off my motherfucking lawn.”

 

The most obvious comparison to make with Lakeview Terrace is Gran Torino. Both films feature curmudgeonly old gits amidst a pressure cooker of racial prejudice and bigotry. Where Gran Torino had Clint Eastwood, Lakeview Terrace has Samuel L. Jackson. And while, overall, Eastwood’s 2008 drama is the superior work, the central performance from the director himself fails in comparison to Jackson’s.

It may not be a very popular opinion, but whilst Eastwood does his usual ‘growling man’ routine, playing the stereotypical wounded old dog who essentially comes good at the end, Jackson’s performance is a far more visceral experience.

Jackson is Abel Turner, an ageing Los Angeles cop living in a luxurious suburban home that he had to work long and hard in order to acquire, just so that he could keep his children away from the kind of upbringing he had. When Patrick Wilson and Kerry Washington’s inter-racial couple, Chris and Lisa, move in next door, Abel’s brewing racial intolerances and archaic sensibilities are brought to a head.

This is some of Jackson’s best work in ages. Gone is the screaming, yelling and cussing; replaced instead by a sinister presence which dominates Neil LaBute’s film even more than the oncoming forest fire that threatens their suburban ‘Utopia’.

Where the film falls down, is in not giving Jackson anywhere near enough screen time. He gets a lot, but not as much as Wilson, who, while an engaging presence in his own right, simply cannot fill the void left every time the visceral Abe is off the screen. Consequently, Jackson’s rich and diverse character is left underdeveloped by the conclusion, leaving a rather unsatisfactory taste in the mouth.

But if Lakeview Terrace is an indication of anything, it’s that while Sammy L. is still willing to put his name on anything, there’s still plenty of talent left in the old motherfucker yet.

*** ¼ / *****