This one’s too much fun.
Richard Linklater has enjoyed an impressively varied career during his four decades as a self-taught writer/director, covering all manner of genres, styles and approaches. Even his lesser efforts are interesting in some way, and his gems are choice.
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| While posing as an assasin-for-hire named Ron, Gary (Glen Powell) discovers that his newest "client," Madison (Adria Arjona) is much more complicated than his usual marks. |
Linklater and star Glen Powell — rising rapidly into the A-list stratosphere — collaborated on this scripted adaptation of Skip Hollandsworth’s mesmerizing 2001 Texas Monthly non-fiction article. The film’s tone is cheeky from an initial promise that “What you’re about to see is a somewhat true story,” and it gets more audacious by the minute.
What’s truly amazing is the degree to which this film’s events are factual ... but do yourself a favor: Watch it first, before looking up Hollandsworth’s magazine piece. (Which, I promise, you’ll definitely want to do.)
Many of the true portions come under the heading of You Simply Couldn’t Make Up Stuff Like This.
Gary Johnson (Powell) is the epitome of mundane. He teaches philosophy and psychology at the University of New Orleans, where his students snicker over the fact that he drives a Honda Civic. He lives with two cats — named Id and Ego, of course — feeds birds, and carefully spray-waters his houseplants. His reading leans toward Carl Jung; a copy of Memories, Dreams, Reflections rests on his desk.
His very appearance is dull, thanks to Juliana Hoffpauir’s crafty costume design and Ally Vickers’ hair styling. Add the baggy jorts and unflattering glasses, and Gary looks like a total dweeb ... which, given Powell’s actual hunky self, is rather astonishing.
Gary does have a side hustle: He’s an electronics whiz, and for some time has assisted the New Orleans police with surveillance equipment and cleverly concealed bugs. His frequent partners during such assignments are cops Claudette (stand-up veteran Retta) and Phil (Sanjay Rao), a hilariously understated Mutt ’n’ Jeff duo who trade dry quips.
Their frequent targets involve ordinary citizens, who — fed up with a spouse, family member or business partner — want to hire a contract killer to, um, take care of the problem. Permanently. They invariably ask “disreputable types” — topless dancers, bar bouncers, bail bondsmen — for a “reference” ... at which point, said individuals usually contact the cops, who set up a sting. The mark’s lethal desire must be spoken aloud, and money must change hands.
Fellow cop Jasper (Austin Amelio) traditionally has played the “hit man” role; he’s smarmy enough to look the part.
But as this story begins — as the next sting has been set up — Jasper has been suspended over some truly slimy behavior. He can’t target the mark, because the case would be tainted and thrown out of court.
“You do it,” Claudette and Phil tell an incredulous Gary. After all, he certainly knows the drill.
Nonetheless nervous and reluctant — hell, who wouldn’t be? — Gary trades his jorts for Phil’s more reasonable jeans, and enters the surveilled restaurant to elicit the necessary details from the mark.
At which point Gary discovers, to his amused surprise, that he has a facility for such role-playing. After all, he’s a psychologist and an expert at reading people; he knows which buttons to push, in order to casually steer a conversation.
It’s actually more than a facility; he’s good at it. Damn good, much to the sidelined Jasper’s annoyance. And Gary gets better over time, to the delight of Claudette, Phil and their boss, Sgt. Hank (Gralen Bryant Banks).
Because New Orleans apparently has no shortage of supposedly upstanding citizens who want somebody whacked.
Linklater shades the increasingly long and eyebrow-lifting roster of such deplorables with dry-as-toast whimsy, and Powell’s behavior with each is sublime. Once Gary really embraces this new calling, this film’s hair and costume designers are augmented by Tara Cooper’s similarly impressive makeup skills; Powell transforms into an increasingly hilarious series of Gary’s unhinged alter egos calling themselves Beck, Judd, Boone, Billy, “The Russian” and various others.
But Gary’s also sliding into morally dubious territory. It gets worse when his next “client” turns out to be drop-dead-gorgeous Madison Figueroa Masters (Adria Arjona), who wants her husband clipped. She meets Gary in his role as the mysteriously sexy Ron, and she isn’t as quickly forthcoming with the arrest-provoking details. As the days pass, she falls for "Ron" ... and, suddenly, Gary isn’t sure what to do next.
The subsequently escalating chain reaction of deception, play-acting and ever-higher stakes sends this story into genuinely dangerous territory, fueled by a key question: Who, precisely, is being played?
Arjona is delectably flirty, mischievous, sultry and enigmatic. It’s impossible to get a read on Madison, and of course that’s the point. Watching Powell and Arjona playfully spar with each other — amid sexual tension so combustible, it could set fire to the screen — is totally delightful.
Linklater and Powell, as co-writers, keep us guessing until the very end; they play us just as effectively as Gary strings along most of his marks.
Cinematographer Shane F. Kelly makes the numerous New Orleans locations sparkle, and the on-screen action is enhanced by a soundtrack laden with tunes by New Orleans stalwarts — Jelly Roll Morton, Dr. John — and newcomers such as Rob49 and Tuba Skinny. The legendary Allen Toussaint’s cover of Vince Guaraldi’s “Cast Your Fate to the Wind” adds an ironic touch to the end titles.
After which, I immediately wanted to watch this again. That doesn’t happen often.
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