Movie Review: Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

A Brutal, Beautiful Look at Justice, Grief, and the Messiness of Being Human

The last time I watched this movie was when it first came out, so it’s been over six years now. I knew it was good back then, but after rewatching it the other day, it hit a little different.

This movie is incredibly sad, but it also highlights the resilience of humanity—our ability to love, grieve, seek justice, and sometimes lose ourselves in the process. It shows how flawed we are, but also how, in the right moments, we’re capable of incredible empathy.

Admittedly, I didn’t remember this scene right away, but when I saw it again, I was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer emotional weight of it. The instant shift from anger to genuine care—the fear in Woody Harrelson’s voice, the way both characters just stop, setting aside their fight to focus on the moment in front of them. It’s such a quiet yet powerful reminder of how layered Mildred is. She’s relentless, tough, unwilling to let anyone derail her pursuit of justice—but in that moment, the toughest thing she does is show compassion. And beyond that, you can feel the history between these two characters, the mutual respect and care that existed before tragedy consumed Mildred’s world. For a brief second, it resurfaces. It’s raw, unexpected, and utterly beautiful.

And then there’s Dixon. His arc isn’t some grand, clean redemption story—he doesn’t become a “good guy” overnight. But he changes. And maybe that’s the point of the whole film: people can change. They don’t always, and sometimes they only do after life knocks them down hard enough. But the possibility is there.

In fact, I’ll admit—it was easy for me to write Dixon off at first. He was terrible. Everything about him made it easy to hate him. But at the same time, in the real world, even that person deserves grace if they’ve decided to move forward and grow from their troubled past. It’s uncomfortable to think about, but it’s true.

I can’t decide who deserves a second chance. None of us can. It’s easy to wish suffering on others, to feel justified in denying someone redemption. But at the same time—haven’t we all needed help on our way back to being better? Who are we to judge others and knock them off their path just because of our own grievances?

Maybe that’s the hardest lesson to take away from Three Billboards—that people are complicated. That change, when it happens, is rarely neat or satisfying. That anger and grief are valid, but they can also blind us. And that sometimes, the toughest thing we can do is not to fight harder, but to step back and choose to see the humanity in someone we once wrote off.

It’s a long shot, but I hope if you do decide to watch this film, you take something away from it—maybe a new perspective, maybe just an appreciation for how messy and human we all are. Because if there’s even a chance that someone might change, then maybe the most powerful thing we can do is leave space for it to happen.