Writer/director John Patton Ford faced two cinematic challenges with this macabre little thriller.
First, the general rule of remakes and sequels: If the result isn’t at least as good as the original, if not better, then the viewer’s time is being wasted.
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| While sizing up the youngest member of the Redfellow family, in the line of succession, Becket (Glen Powell) quickly discovers that the guy is an arrogant, reckless waste of space. |
Only a cheeky American would have the audacity to do it again.
In fairness, Ford wisely adopts the narrative template established by British scripters Robert Hamer and John Dighton, who in turn adapted Roy Horniman’s 1907 novel, Israel Rank: The Autobiography of a Criminal.
As with the original, this film opens in a jail cell, as Becket Redfellow (Glen Powell) awaits execution for murder. A priest (Adrian Lukis) arrives, with but four hours to go; when asked about final words, Becket relates his saga in flashback, with ongoing voiceover commentary.
It begins when 18-year-old Mary Redfellow — belonging to an obscenely wealthy, old-money family worth untold billions — unwisely becomes pregnant. She insists upon having the child, whereupon her imperious father Whitelaw (Ed Harris) banishes her from the family’s New York estate.
Important detail, though: She remains an heir, in the family line of succession.
Mary moves to the New Jersey township of Bellville, finds menial employment, and raises young Becket (Grady Wilson) to the best of her ability. Despite their meager circumstances, she ensures that Becket is exposed to refined pursuits, such as archery and music. But as the “poor kid” among children of wealthier families, he’s frequently tormented.
He catches the eye of Julia Steinway (Maggie Toomey), who returns his affection, but in a way that feels borderline cruel.
Becket is nonetheless happy, but the boy’s world is shattered when his mother takes ill. Before dying, she informs Becket of his rightful heritage. Her final wish is to be buried in the family crypt; this request is denied.
Becket grows up angry, and not merely because he’s shuttled through a series of foster families. Upon achieving maturity, he obtains a good job with a custom tailor, where he has an unexpected reunion with Julia (Margaret Qualley). They briefly discuss his family background, and how he’s eighth in the line of succession.
“Call me when you’ve killed them all,” she says, mockingly, before exiting the shop.
Up to this point, although quietly resentful, Becket hasn’t contemplated such a notion. Powell deftly handles this blend of repressed anger, and a genuine desire to honor his mother by being an upstanding citizen. He’s also note-perfect with the shift that occurs when Beckett unexpectedly — and quite unfairly — loses his job. Powell’s expression and posture harden; his gaze narrows, and we sense new wheels spinning in his brain.
And, so, he sets off to do what Julia suggested.
The moral ambiguity here is crucial, and cuts to the story’s darkly comic core. Becket and his mother were cruelly wronged, and deserve vengeance; the question is whether we can remain on Becket’s side, despite the extreme measures to which he resorts. Powell pulls it off, because — and this is important — Becket doesn’t become a gleeful killing machine; he simply regards his mission pragmatically, as a job that needs doing.
His approach — uniquely tailored to each Redfellow — is cheekily grisly.
Ford does take a different approach to the victims. Alec Guinness played all eight members of his film’s D’Ascoyne family tree as various degrees of fusty, befuddled, Old World eccentrics. Several of Becket’s targets, in contrast, are insufferably privileged jerks who deserve to be taken off the board: most notably the party-hearty Taylor (Raff Law) and narcissistic Cassandra (Bianca Amato).
Matters get emotionally complicated on two fronts. After dispatching smug artist Noah Redfellow (Zach Woods), Becket and Noah’s former girlfriend, Ruth (Jessica Henwick), become an item. More crucially, Becket’s Uncle Warren (Bill Camp), who runs the family’s business, acknowledges regret upon meeting his nephew, and gives him a job. Unlike all the other Redfellows, Warren is genuinely kind, thoughtful and honorable.
Could Becket really bring himself to kill this unexpected benefactor?
On an insidious note, Julia keeps popping up. Bored with her marriage, greedy for more — much more — she drops arch little hints that suggest she knows what Becket is up to.
Qualley is creepily, seductively dangerous. Ruth is more blatantly sociopathic than Becket, and a stark contrast to Ruth, an honest, down-to-earth woman wholly satisfied with her new job as a schoolteacher. Henwick makes us ache for her, because (of course) Becket doesn’t reveal anything about his clandestine activities.
Phumi Tau and Stevel Marc add an intriguing note as a pair of FBI investigators who become curious after the unexpected deaths of so many members of the same wealthy family.
Given that subsequent details play out just like the Hamer/Dighton script — beat for beat, and plot point for plot point (allowing for the update to modern times) — Ford earns a demerit for the disrespectful claim that his screenplay is merely “inspired by” the 1949 film. The result clearly deserves a more accurate “adapted from” descriptor.
Worse yet, Ford changes the ending ... and not for the better. Aside from sabotaging the original film’s deliciously ironic finale, Ford’s alteration is simply wrong. It leaves us annoyed, if not angry.
Totally unsatisfying.
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