Mark Reviews Movies: FINCH

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Review by Mark Dujsik | November 4, 2021

Craig Luck and Ivor Powell's screenplay for Finch gives us three main characters. As unlikely as it may seem (for reasons that will become apparent), we believe each of them.

The first and eponymous character isn't much of a stretch in that regard. He's a man living alone in a post-apocalyptic world, which had been ravaged by a massive solar flare (the "apocalyptic" part) and continues to be inhospitable on account of holes in ozone (the "post" part). There isn't too much to this character, except that he spends his days scavenging whatever might be left of dwindling food and supplies in a seemingly abandoned St. Louis.

If he has or had a family, they are gone—either dead or moved on to some other place. His career was in technology, specifically computer programming, and since he was at work on the day that the solar flare erupted, he has made a permanent shelter for himself in the tech company's headquarters.

All of this is simple and mysterious enough in terms of back story for Finch, although there's a bit of melancholy in gradually learning that there isn't really much mystery surrounding the character and his past. What we see now of the man is probably what he was before all of this devastation occurred. The habits have changed, obviously, but the personality likely hasn't. We can accept, understand, and sympathize with this state of consistency. It's probably as much a survival tactic as the scavenging for Finch, too. The consistency of his outlook and behavior is one of the only guaranteed things to be consistent in a world such as this one.

We also accept, understand, and sympathize with Finch because he's played by Tom Hanks, one of the more consistently relatable, intelligent, and considerate screen presences working today. Hanks' performance here embodies all of those qualities, and the actor makes smart decisions, such as the way Finch speaks in a raspy hush, as if he constantly has to find his voice after long stretches of not needing to use it.

The performance, though, also has to do a lot of additionally heavy lifting. Apart from three characters seen from a distance during a flashback, he is the only human being who appears in this story. If one is going to cast an actor to represent the best and most frail and most haunted of humanity, director Miguel Sapochnik probably couldn't have found a better candidate.

The second major character is a dog, which lives with Finch in the vacant building. The dog, which Finch only refers to as "dog" or "boy" even though it has a name, is a good pup, indeed. It's not, though and importantly, in the overly cutesy way that could distract us from the solemn sincerity of this story or might attempt to add some unnecessary emotionality by way of the dog.

Finch wants to make sure the dog is safe, if and, as his health from exposure to ultraviolet radiation will soon make certain, when he is no longer present to care for the animal. That's how the third character comes into this tale.

It is an intelligent robot that later names itself Jeff. The presence of this android is made possible by some excellent visual effects, which give it both a sense of weight and an appearance that is decidedly unpolished, and a motion-capture performance from Caleb Landry Jones. The effects go a long way in convincing us that Jeff is part of this world—moving through it, manipulating things within it, and interacting with Finch and the dog.

Jones' performance, though, comes through strongly, too, even if there is no physical sign of the actor remaining, beyond the voice and the robot's general physicality. Jeff, standing maybe a foot or so above Finch and depending on whether it's hunched over, is a rather endearing figure here. That's because Jones gives him the vocal patterns, gestures, posture, and impatient fidgeting of an excited, curious, and overly eager child. Jeff wants to impress its creator, learn what hasn't been uploaded into its computer brain, and do what it was programmed to do—to tend to the dog when Finch is absent—to the best of its capabilities.

As for the story, it's admirably simple, taking the form of a road trip across the desolated country to San Francisco, where Finch hopes there will be food and supplies for Jeff to care for the dog. Jeff tries to learn Finch's lessons and take initiative in his biological compatriots' survival. Finch's health slowly deteriorates, and he worries that Jeff might not be up to the task for which he built the robot. The dog distrusts the metal machine, but Finch keeps encouraging Jeff to form a bond with the pup.

It's kind of shocking, in fact, to realize how much these characters matter, not only because only one of them is human, but also because the setup for the story and the film's clearly high budget might seem to suggest something much broader—in terms of plot, action, and/or comedy. Instead, Finch is quiet (aside from a close call with a tornado and sequence within a booby-trapped building that leads to a chase), thoughtful, and sharply focused on the man—what his life has amounted to and what he both regrets and cherishes from it—and the robot—how and what he learns about being akin to a son and an actual provider—and, yes, that very good dog.

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