Crime 101: Slick and suspenseful

Crime 101 (2025) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated R, for violence, sexual candor, brief nudity and plenty of profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

This is a solid, methodical crime thriller, very much in the mold of classics such as 1971’s The French Connection, 2010’s The Town, and director Michael Mann’s Heat (1995) and Collateral (2004).

 

During their first date, Maya (Monica Barbaro) becomes increasingly puzzled when
Mike (Chris Hemsworth) is unable — or unwilling — to share personal details about
his childhood, friends and family members.

Director/scripter Bart Layton delivers a similarly clinical, semi-detached atmosphere, along with an intriguing roster of characters, each deftly portrayed by the excellent ensemble cast. Layton also benefits from his source material: the 2021 novella by respected crime author Don Winslow.

The best line from that novella, which firmly establishes the milieu in which these individuals operate: “Laws are made to be broken, with rules that are made to be followed.”

 

The on-screen result is a treat.

 

Layton doesn’t waste time with any back-story. We briefly meet our three primary characters as each greets a new day: Mike Davis (Chris Hemsworth), cool, calm and collected; Sharon Coombs (Halle Berry), exhausted from another night of fitful sleep; and Lou Lubesnick (Mark Ruffalo), rumpled, flustered and unhappy.

 

Matters then focus on Mike, as he begins another of his precision-planned heists of jewels being transported to underworld buyers. He intercepts and takes the place of a guard, which grants him access to the actual transfer point, orchestrated by the shady jeweler (Payman Maadi, as Sammy Kassem). Davis brandishes a gun, sufficient to frighten everyone into cooperation; clearly, variations of this approach have succeeded many times before.

 

But this time things go slightly awry, because an intermediary brought along a younger, unseasoned companion who behaves rashly.

 

Clearly shaken, Mike nonetheless keeps his rendezvous with his fence and “sponsor,” known only as Money (Nick Nolte). They discuss Mike’s next scoped-out job, involving the robbery of a posh Santa Barbara jewelry store. But Mike has had second thoughts, concerned by too many variables.

 

Meanwhile, high-end claims adjuster Sharon Coombs (Halle Berry), dressed to kill, is doing her best to sweet-talk über-rich Beverly Hills asshole Monroe (Tate Donovan) into allowing her company to insure and protect all the flagrantly expensive elements of his upcoming marriage to his trophy fiancée, Adrienne (Andra Nechita). 

 

Sharon has long been promised partnership at her firm, but she’s beginning to realize that her smarmy boss, Mark (Paul Adelstein), has been dangling this hope while using her as glamorous “bait” on wealthy clients. And, on the north end of 50, Sharon worries that she may be reaching her sell-by date … particularly when Mark augments his team with a much younger cutie.

 

When Kassem calls the police; Lou catches the case with his partner, Tillman (Corey Hawkins). Recognizing the modus operandi, Lou is convinced that this is the latest job by the same individual responsible for a couple dozen earlier, similar heists, all of them committed at stores along the 101 freeway. But he’s alone is this belief, and his ongoing obsession has diminished the respect he once possessed, as a capable investigator.

 

Lou is an old-style cop, who trusts his instincts and believes in following even the tiniest of leads. This attitude has made him a dinosaur, increasingly at odds with a boss who prefers clearing cases off the department ledgers, to actually solving who perpetrated them.

Saltburn: Spicy, seductive and sinister

Saltburn (2023) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated R, for strong sexual content, graphic nudity, constant profanity, drug use and disturbing violent content

Available via: Amazon Prime

By Derrick Bang

Trust the writer/director of 2020’s Promising Young Woman to follow that with an even edgier premise.

 

Having achieved his goal of getting closer to the charismatic Felix (Jacob Elordi, center),
Oliver (Barry Keoghan) soon learns all manner of things about Felix's sister Venetia
(Alison Oliver) and the rest of their family.

Emerald Fennell has concocted a truly unsettling story, populated by cheerfully mean-spirited characters: a horrifying brew of envy, greed and poisonous privilege.

 

The result is mesmerizing, in a macabre way ... although you’ll likely feel guilty — and dirty — the following morning.

 

English boarding schools have been the setting of class-based horror stories ever since Thomas Hughes wrote Tom Brown’s School Days back in 1857. The formula remains unchanged, although modern tastes have allowed the depiction of increasingly deplorable behavior.

 

The year is 2006. Oliver Quick (Barry Keoghan) begins a term at Oxford as a working-class fish out of water, wholly unable to blend with the university’s predominantly wealthy, entitled young men and women. He’s singled out by another outlier, Michael Gavey (Ewan Mitchell), a nerdy math savant, but this “friendship” isn’t destined to last long; Michael is pushy and much too intense.

 

Oliver instead longs to bond with the charismatic and immensely popular Felix Catton (Jacob Elordi), but the class divide seems insurmountable. Even when fate grants Oliver a chance to do Felix a much-needed favor, the latter is unable to repay the gesture with inclusion in his circle of friends. 

 

“He’s a scholarship student,” one contemptuous girl snaps, putting dismissive emphasis on the descriptor. “He probably buys his clothes at Oxfam.”

 

Oliver overhears this.

 

His anguish is palpable; Keoghan’s expression and bearing are beyond woebegone. His slumped posture feels utterly lost, misery hovering over him like a dark cloud. We must remember that he was nominated for a well-deserved Supporting Actor Oscar, for his heartbreaking performance as the abused son of the local Garda, in 2022’s The Banshees of Inisherin (and he was one of the best parts of that film).

 

Felix actually isn’t as contemptible as most of his peers; we can see, in Elordi’s eyes, that his sympathy is rising. He finally punches through his clique’s intolerance and gets Oliver a seat at their cherished pub table, but that almost proves worse; the younger man now is overwhelmed by his unfamiliarity with unspoken “rules” and mocking “politeness.” 

 

Much of that comes from Felix’s American cousin Farleigh (Archie Madekwe), who makes no attempt to hide his snobbery (totally ironic, once we learn more about him ... but his attitude also makes perfect sense).

 

Toward the end of term, when a family crisis rips Oliver’s world apart, Felix impulsively invites him to spend the summer at his family’s estate, Saltburn ... much to Farleigh’s annoyance, who fancied himself the sole guest.

The Banshees of Inisherin: Wails of discontent

The Banshees of Inisherin (2022) • View trailer

Three stars (out of five). Rated R for violence, brief graphic nudity and relentless profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.4.22

Back in 2008, writer/director Martin McDonagh teamed with actors Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson for In Bruges, a darkly meditative — and frequently funny — study of loyalty and death between two contract killers (likely enjoyed only by viewers with broad-minded sensibilities).

 

Pádraic (Colin Farrell, right) makes another effort to determine precisely why he's being
shunned by former best friend Colm (Brendan Gleeson), but the latter refuses to engage.

I’d love to say that McDonagh’s reunion with Farrell and Gleeson is equally appealing … but that’s far from the truth.

The time is 1923, the setting the harsh, rocky (and fictitious) island of Inisherin, off the west coast of Ireland. Pádraic Súilleabháin (Farrell), a hard-working milk farmer, lives with his sister Siobhán in a simple rustic house they often share with their pet miniature donkey, Jenny. Eight years have passed since their parents died; the sibling bond is tight and loving.

 

Every day at 2 p.m., presumably going back years, Pádraic has walked over to the house belonging to his best friend, Colm Doherty (Gleeson); the two then head over to the local pub: the island’s sole form of entertainment.

 

Except this time, as the story begins, Colm refuses to answer the door. Pádraic peers through a window, and sees Colm inside, silently brooding at a table. Pádraic knocks again; Colm doesn’t move.

 

Bewildered, Pádraic heads to the pub by himself; the publican, Jonjo (Pat Shortt), can’t believe his eyes. You’ve had a row, he suggests; Pádraic insists not.

 

“A’ least, I don’t tink so,” he admits.

 

Farrell’s expression, thus far, is puzzled and mildly hurt. Assuming that he somehow must be at fault, when Pádraic later corners Colm at a table — the latter also wants his daily pint — Pádraic does what all good friends do, and apologizes for whatever unintended slight may have occurred.

 

It’s a sincere apology. Farrell’s expression is earnest, his gaze both curious and worried.

 

Colm’s response is breathtakingly callous: “I just don’ like you any more.”

 

Blunt as that statement is, Colm’s subsequent explanation is even worse. Being older, he has begun to brood about his mortality, and the fact that — unless things change — he’ll leave nothing behind. He thus refuses to spend another minute with Pádraic — whose simple kindness is “too dull,” and who can spend hours ruminating about what emerges from Jenny’s rear end — in favor of focusing on his fiddle, and composing music that will outlive him. Like Mozart.

 

Farrell’s wide-eyed reaction prompts laughs, because — at first blush — this seems so ridiculous. To Pádraic, it’s like a parent suddenly disowning a child, for no reason. But when it becomes clear that Colm is serious, Pádraic begins a slow slide into deep sorrow. Farrell’s richly nuanced performance is heartbreaking: the palpable embodiment of unrelenting grief.

Eternals: Superheroes redux

Eternals (2021) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for fantasy violence, brief sexuality and fleeting profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.05.21 

The Marvel Cinematic Universe is getting crowded.

 

Seriously, one wonders why these folks don’t bump into each other.

 

Ikaris (Richard Madden) is unpleasantly surprised to discover that this particularly nasty
Deviant monster seems impervious to his energy blasts.

“Well hello there,” Thor says cheerfully, and he spots Ikaris (more on him in a moment) jetting in the opposite direction. “Whachu up to?”

 

“Got a big, slimy monster to put down, which just emerged in the Arctic,” Ikaris replies.

 

“You, too?” Thor adds, before the other is out of earshot. “What say we compare notes over a few brews, after?”

 

“You’re on!” Ikaris shouts, as he vanishes over the horizon.

 

(Ahem.)

 

As envisioned by comic book luminary Jack Kirby back in 1976, Eternals existed on a cosmological, universe-shaping plain far removed — and quite separate — from everyday superheroes. (Think all-makers such as Odin and Zeus, blended with the arrogant amorality of Thanos and Galactus.)

 

But director Chloé Zhao — a recent double-Oscar winner, for last year’s Nomadland — was tasked with blending the Eternals with the rest of the MCU. The result — co-scripted with Patrick Burleigh, Ryan Firpo and Kaz Firpo — still feels mostly like a stand-alone entity, although passing reference is made to the Avengers.

 

As is typical of so many superhero movies, the first two acts are thoughtful, engaging and character-driven. Zhao has a sensitive touch with inter-personal relations: no doubt the reason she was chosen to helm this ambitious slice of myth-making. And while the climactic third act maintains the emotional angst, it also descends into the usual, bombastic sturm und drang that overstays this film’s 157 minutes.

 

So: Bear with me.

 

For untold millennia, the massive Celestials — picture brooding, blood red, rock-encrusted, six-sunken-eyed beings the size of our moon — have created new civilizations by seeding planets throughout the galaxy. The Celestials “cleanse” a given planet of pesky apex predators, by sending monstrous Deviants to perform this culling; the Deviants then are destroyed by the noble Eternals, who subsequently (but subtly) help “shape” the rise of the dominant bipedal civilization.

 

(Seems a rather complicated way to do what evolution handles on its own, but hey: Who am I to argue with a Celestial?)

 

(There’s also a rather strong echo of the Transformers series’ ongoing war between autobots and decepticons, which diminishes some of this film’s originality.)

 

American Animals: Savvy indictment of youthful privilege

American Animals (2018) • View trailer 
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.

Dunkirk: An intense, masterful drama

Dunkirk (2017) • View trailer 
Five stars. Rated PG-13, for intense war violence and occasional profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.21.17

Christopher Nolan doesn’t merely spin a crackling good yarn; he tells it in a provocative, wildly imaginative manner.

Thousands of Allied soldiers wait anxiously on the "mole" — a narrow, kilometer-long,
wood-boarded breakwater that pokes precariously out into the cold waters of the
English Channel — while praying they'll be able to board a rescue ship before being
strafed by Luftwaffe Messerschmitts.

His fascination with nonlinear storytelling began with Following and Memento — the latter ingeniously unfolding both forwards and backwards — and ultimately became too much in Inception (a dream within a fantasy within a head trip within a nod to Orson Welles ... quite overcooked, but audacious nonetheless).

Dunkirk does not succumb to such excess, although some viewers may be perplexed by how its three parallel storylines intersect ... until the penny drops, resulting in a richly satisfying — dare I say exhilarating — A-ha! moment.

This film is a masterpiece: a compelling, ingeniously conceived and choreographed slice of suspenseful, nail-biting history transformed into a thoroughly absorbing drama. Everything connects here, starting with the superlative work turned in by a huge ensemble cast composed primarily of unfamiliar faces and a few high-profile character actors.

Nolan both wrote and directed this stunning slice of edge-of-the-seat cinema, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he also came up with the attention-grabbing tag line: “When 400,000 men couldn’t get home ... home came for them.”

Remember being riveted, in 1998’s Saving Private Ryan, by Steven Spielberg’s 20-minute handling of the Normandy Beach landing sequence?

Nolan ups that ante. Dunkirk maintains that level of suspense and peek-between-your-fingers anxiety for its full 106 minutes. You literally dare not blink during his ticking-clock handling of simultaneous narratives that come together brilliantly, in time for a climax that’s no less triumphant, for our prior knowledge of how the story concludes.

The drama comes from the skillfully sketched, ground-level characters, whose fates we most definitely don’t know, history notwithstanding.

This is a snapshot of a seminal event during the early days of World War II: an incident that began with a ghastly military disaster, but concluded with an amazing miracle that demonstrated anew — here’s a lesson worth repeating — how individual civilians absolutely can make a massive, heroic difference.