Four stars. Rated R, for profanity, drug use and brief crude content
By Derrick Bang
Real life isn’t merely stranger than fiction; sometimes it’s a lot dumber.
In 2004, a quartet of bored Kentucky college students, seeking a way to inject some spice into their plain-vanilla lives, concocted a preposterous scheme to “make millions” by stealing rare books from the Transylvania University library’s essentially unguarded special collections section.
 |
| Surrounded by the fluorescent blandness of a supermarket, Spencer (Barry Keoghan, left) and Warren (Evan Peters) spin a series of what-ifs into an actual criminal plot. |
Yes, books. Bulky, heavy books.
Which the lads expected to transform into cash by passing them along to a fence. In Amsterdam.
The mind doth boggle.
The actual events are jaw-dropping enough, but indie writer/director Bart Layton has enhanced the narrative even further: He blends his film’s dramatic depiction of what actually went down, with on-camera commentary and recollections by the now-adult thieves. It’s a cheeky maneuver strongly reminiscent of director Craig Gillespie’s handling of last year’s I, Tonya, with a similar result: We’re fascinated by the saga, yet left to wonder to what degree these narrators are reliable.
Layton audaciously signals his intentions right from the top, with a variation on what has become the usual introductory disclosure statement, when dealing with fact-based events:
This is not based on a true story
And while we mull that over, an off-camera exhalation — the sound of blowing out the candles on a birthday cake — chases away a few words, so the statement becomes:
This is a true story
Don’t know about the rest of you, but I couldn’t help italicizing the second word, as I scanned that line again.
After a brief flash-forward designed to pique our curiosity, we bounce back several months and meet chums Spencer Reinhard (Barry Keoghan) and Warren Lipka (Evan Peters). The former is a freshman art major at Transylvania University, the latter blowing off a soccer scholarship at nearby University of Kentucky. When Spencer gets an orientation tour of his library’s $20 million collection of rare books — a glassed-off room supervised solely by librarian Betty Jean Gooch (Ann Dowd) — he’s transfixed by an open copy of John James Audubon’s massive Birds of America, residing in its own display case.
Spencer later describes the book — and its “priceless” value — to Warren. One or both of them imagines taking it, selling it, enjoying their subsequent ill-gotten gains.
Layton intercuts between the actual Spencer and Warren, each remembering their plot’s genesis slightly differently, neither quite willing to admit being the one who actually proposed the theft.
As the film proceeds, such divergent, multiple-perspective, Rashomon-esque descriptions of what actually occurred become increasingly frequent, and sometimes wildly contradictory. This may result from after-the-fact face-saving; more likely it’s because the two lads were stoned much of the time, back then, and they honestly have no idea who said what, or when.
At times, an incident we’ve just watched, dramatized based on Warren’s recollection, repeats in a significantly different manner, when Spencer inserts his two cents. One of the most intriguing examples is the suddenly shifting depiction of “the contact in New York” whom Warren trusts to introduce them to “the fence in Amsterdam.”
The guy’s appearance shifts before our very eyes: quite disorienting, and a bravura bit of storytelling.
Meanwhile, Spencer and Warren “mastermind” their potential theft in the best way they know: by binge-watching classic heist movies. This scene is both hilarious and painfully enlightening, as it reveals the heartbreaking degree to which these two mopes are wholly, totally out of their depth.
And yet Keoghan and Peters doggedly play their roles absolutely straight and sincere, which Layton makes a subtle wink-and-nod of its own: How ironic, that these two crash-course film scholars remain unaware that they’ve become stoner-naïve Bill and Ted, or Harold and Kumar.
Anyway…
Eventually realizing that they’ll need help, Warren recruits mildly estranged former friend and fellow University of Kentucky freshman Eric Borsuk (Jared Abrahamson). After “casing” the library’s special collections room — feigning professional credentials that poor Ms. Gooch accepts at face value — they realize that yet another collaborator will be necessary, if only to help carry the extremely heavy Audubon folios.
Enter Chas Allen (Blake Jenner), a fitness-obsessed jock whose clean-cut good looks, common sense and sober skepticism immediately set him apart from the other three. Chas’ first instinct is to dismiss the scheme as the ravings of clueless stoners. But greed is a powerful intoxicant, and he isn’t immune.
That said, if we sympathize with any of these fools — to any degree — Chas is most likely to get the benefit of our doubt. Jenner exudes wholesomeness, and his increasingly frustrated objections — as his comrades keep dithering about this, that and the other — give us hope that Chas will come to his senses, bow out, or even pull the plug.
(Just in passing, not all of these boys were the vacuous innocents-turned-criminals depicted here. In the interest of narrative focus, Layton skips over the successful previous scams orchestrated by Warren and Eric, making and selling fake IDs. Curious viewers are encouraged to seek out the extensive December 2007 Vanity Fair coverage of the actual incident … but only after seeing this film. You don’t want to spoil the outcome.)
As this saga slides into its third act, our doubt and disbelief blossom into eye-rolling amazement. (Seriously? Seriously?) Layton is well aware of this, and plays us like the proverbial fiddle.
Then the tone shifts completely, as real-world hiccups and misfires clash with the far-fetched fantasies of four clueless white boys — children of privilege, whose well-to-do parents sent them to elite high schools — who never, during all of their scheming, gave a thought to the actual consequences of their endeavor.
We get a forceful reality check wholly at odds with the fanciful popcorn tone that characterizes much of today’s Hollywood fare.
Most folks undoubtedly see movies as a vicarious means of escape and fantasy: nothing wrong with that. But when something like American Animals comes along, the contrast in tone and intent can be quite a jolt.
Layton’s allegiance to authenticity is impressive; it’s obvious that he researched the four key characters to the core. They helped with numerous details, such as the music they listened to at the time: a cornucopia of pop and rock tunes by Wu-Tang Clan, Johnny Cash, Leonard Cohen, Elvis Presley, Donovan and dozens of others, all further enhancing Anne Nikitin’s moody orchestral underscore.
Captivating as this film is, Layton’s cross-cutting style can be challenging, even off-putting; this isn’t a passive viewing experience. (No fewer than three editors — Nick Fenton, Chris Gill and Julian Hart — helped Layton assemble this complex jigsaw puzzle.) But hang in there: This is bravura filmmaking, done in a manner that perfectly suits its narrative.
And Layton concludes with a final, tantalizing hypothetical that’s the icing on the cake.
Leaving us wondering…
No comments:
Post a Comment