Mark Reviews Movies: RUSHED

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Review by Mark Dujsik | August 26, 2021

The woman wakes up every morning at the same time, because there's work to be done around the house. She's a mother of four, with three kids still living at home, and the wife to a man who works a blue-collar job every day of the work week. A devout Catholic of the Irish persuasion, the woman also ensures that she prays the rosary every morning, too—or, at least, as much as the rest of her schedule allows.

Lunches have to be made and packed, and she swears—apologizing to the blessed candle and figure of the Virgin Mary immediately and repeatedly upon doing so—in her rush back and forth between the fridge and the counter. The kids have be told to get out of bed, already, and get the in the shower, for the love of all that's holy, because everyone's going to be late, otherwise.

That daily routine is our introduction to Barbara O'Brien in Rushed, a character who is so recognizably ordinary that it's a refreshing shock to the system to watch her just do what she does. The character is played by Siobhan Fallon Hogan, a character actor of movies and television for more than 30 years, with such natural authenticity that the effect is only doubled. The star, by the way, wrote the screenplay, which, perhaps, serves as a good lesson to actors who find themselves not getting juicy roles that play to their strengths and qualities as a performer. If nobody is going to write that part for you, write it for yourself.

Hogan has written a great character for herself—one who bucks the thinking that the protagonist in a drama or a thriller (as this one eventually becomes) has to be special or unique in at least one specific way, who gives the actor a range of emotions to explore and modes in which to play, who is wholly sympathetic or whose decisions and actions are understandable at bare minimum. Barbara isn't special in ways that we usually expect in movies. She's just a loving wife, a doting mother, a sincerely religious person, and someone whose work is constant, hidden, and completely taken for granted—although she doesn't resent that in any way, because there is such happiness and contentedness in every little moment.

The fact that Barbara isn't unique is what makes her unique, and as plain as those opening scenes may sound, there's a real thrill in just seeing how much depth, humor, and firm development Hogan's screenplay and performance instantly bring to the character in this opening section. Her husband Jim (Robert Patrick) just tries to sleep a bit longer, as Barbara bumbles with her phone and keeps talking about their son Jimmy (Jay Jay Warren), who's in college and was supposed to call or text her last night so that she knows—as she always must—that he's okay. She uses the cellphones of her other kids, all of them in high school, as a not-so-clever-anymore ruse to get Jimmy to answer his phone, because he's busy with school and pledging for a fraternity.

As for the plot, the pledge process gets way out of control, as fraternity president Steven (Jake Weary) decides to target Jimmy. At the party where the pledges become official members, Steven sneaks some drugs into one of Jimmy's drinks, tapes him to a chair, and pours bottles of booze down his throat. If the opening scenes of the film are perfectly ordinary, there's a startling sense of authenticity, captured with such stillness by director Vibeke Muasya, to how ordinary the scene with the family in the hospital is, as they all pray before a nurse turns off the various machines keeping Jimmy alive.

Barbara is depressed after the death of her eldest child, leaving behind all of her usual routine to sit and chain-smoke all day. One day, though, Barbara comes up with a plan. She'll travel the country, talking to and recording statements from other parents whose own child died as a result of fraternity hazing. The stories could convince lawmakers to put restrictions on and demand accountability in the pledging process.

Because Barbara is stubborn and a devoted parent and wants some kind of justice, that's just what she does. To be sure, much of the resulting material feels like a message story, as Barbara tracks down and records interviews with other families—mostly mothers—whose lives by have overturned by grief, caused by systems that refuse to take responsibility, hold anyone accountability, or provide any changes to the status quo.

As these scenes unfold, the sense of Barbara's own determination and anguish, though, is never lost, and neither is the sense of her as someone wholly ordinary, a bit in over her head, and from a certain socioeconomic background. Some fine comic relief comes from her brief stay with a wealthy couple whose son died in a hazing incident, as she just relishes the opulence of their mansion, and the phony confidence she adopts to sneak into a politician's fundraiser. The humor is necessary, if only because of how matters turn for the hopeless and the dark.

The third act of Rushed is undoubtedly different and jarring in terms of plot, tone, and intention. Whether or not it makes sense after what has come before is almost irrelevant. We don't need to accept that the turn fits soundly into this narrative or has something to say about the central issue of hazing. We just need to believe that Barbara would move in this direction. Because Hogan's screenplay is so focused on this character and her performance is so detailed, we do believe it—more than any kind of story consistency or message.

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