‘Eric LaRue’ Review – A Stirring Account Of Grief And Trauma With A Career Best From Judy Greer

In a film dealing with the aftermath of a tragedy, we, the audience, are left with many unanswered questions. Eric LaRue reveals itself as a story dealing with the effects of a school shooting on a small town. Yet, this movie attempts to go beyond the headlines of these horrific tragedies. This is a story about the aftermath of violence and its impact on those affected by these events. There is a thought-provoking discussion and analysis in the wake of violence in a small town. Yet, as is often the case, these reactions are fleeting. This film aims to provide provocative insights into those left behind. The families and their lives are directly and indirectly affected by the actions of a gunman. It is far from a cathartic tale but one steeped in pain and recovery.

Eric LaRue centers on the aftermath of a triple high school murder. The school shooter is now incarcerated, and the small town finds itself putting itself back together. At the center of this story is the life of Janice LaRue (Judy Greer), the mother of the shooter. Coupled with grief and guilt, she, along with her husband, comes to terms with violent acts committed by the son, all while finding solace in faith and community. The movie is the directorial debut of Michael Shannon, who adapted the 2002 play by Brett Neveu. The story leaves much to the imagination, including the events leading up to the shooting and even the immediate aftermath. Instead, this film is a meditation on grief and trauma and boldly asks the audience to watch how violence results in a ripple effect.

Janice’s life is in shambles. She struggles to make it through the day at work and at home. Anger and resentment bubble beneath the surface, consuming her in a biting rage. Set in a small community where faith is paramount, Janice finds herself at odds with her religion, while her husband, Ron, has found salvation at a new church. This dichotomy sets up a fraying relationship between wife and husband. Both are trying to navigate the complexities and fractured emotions caused by their son’s violent acts. 

As is often the case in a small town, a church becomes more than a place for a weekly religious congregation. The church, by extension, is a part of the community. It becomes a place to celebrate, learn, socialize, and grieve. Janice finds herself distancing herself from her faith, even as her pastor, Steve (Paul Sparks), urges her to meet with the three grieving mothers of her son’s victims. 

The different religious congregations are the focal point of the film’s struggles. Both Janice’s pastor and Ron’s pastor, Bill Verne (Tracy Letts), showcase the difference in philosophies. Pastor Steve, in a way, exists as the film’s conscience, while Bill takes a high-stylized approach to healing. The film is as much a rumination on differing religious institutions as the effects of violence on a small community. 

This is hardly a religious film, nor does it attempt to preach one denomination over the other. Instead, it uses religion as a bulwark and a launching pad for the film’s complex themes. The reaction of one church over the other is nothing new, but the film presents both equations in neither a mocking tone nor a self-evident one. The film deconstructs the parameters of religions and shines a light on the devolution of a community. 

The yin and yang of Pastor Steve and Reverend Bill are ingrained features of the film’s eternal question: How does a community process grief? Is it quiet, is it bombastic? The real genius of Eric LaRue is that the decision and takeaway are ultimately in the hands of the audience. Each character participates in this film as it intentionally relies on ambiguity rather than committing to a central theme that there is no proper way to process grief. 

As the film illuminates the aftermath of a tragedy, there is a bold effort to examine the psyche of these two broken parents. Their guilt over their son Eric’s actions is paramount, but the movie shies away from explaining his motivations. Instead, this film depicts this broken family unit coming to terms with their new and unfortunate situation. How does one process guilt or reach any forgiveness? Is it even possible in the wake of such a tragedy? The film lets these questions linger for the audience while we observe and react to the shattered lives of these characters.

Eric LaRue does not set up or neatly provide a simple conclusion to its premise. The film is a slog, and that is no criticism. The story is draining and comparable to an emotional boxing match. The characters are set up to revisit the pain and endure the mounting suffering repeatedly. Their lives are fractured even more, despite the original sin of the shooting. Much of the film builds towards this meeting between the mothers, but this is, by now, a film designed to elicit a quasi-happy ending or a resolving conclusion. They embark on a never-ending grief. Recovery is always possible, but it is an intangible that is front and center and part of what makes this film emotionally arresting. 

Michael Shannon poetically works with his ensemble. While Greer anchors this film, an effort is made to illuminate the characters’ various lives and daily interactions. Pastor Steve is a gentle provocation, moving the story to its end. He becomes an avatar for recovery and hope, and his scenes opposite Janice allow riveting discussion that goes beyond surface-level takes on pain and grief. The choices in lighting and framing only further the film’s emotional drive. It is intentionally claustrophobic but also liberating—such is grief and healing. 

Still, this film belongs solely to Judy Greer. She is a quiet force of nature who radiates her complexity through jaded stares and a cracking psyche. She is still a mother and finds herself both at odds with her family duties and crafting a role for herself after her son’s conviction. Greer is indomitable. We are left gobsmacked by the impressive weight of her performance. Greer crackles under pressure and shows the fraying lines of sorrow. In this film, she is impossible to ignore and delivers a riveting role and a career-defining one. 

In the penultimate scene, Janice meets Eric (Nation Sage Henrikson) in prison. The raw emotion between mother and son becomes what this film may be striving to comment on. There are no more straightforward answers, and there is no finite conclusion. It is a reexamination of the grief and reopening of the wounds that will not heal cleanly. Greer is unmatched and raids as both a grieving mother and a broken individual.

Eric LaRue is a heavy film that explores the effects of violence and the pains of trauma. The exposition leaves the audience with questions, but they will still see the performance as something to discuss. This is a performance-driven story, with the characters, their reactions, and ultimate actions propelling them toward a stirring and reflective end. 

Eric LaRue is currently playing in select theaters courtesy of Magnolia Pictures.