Tag Archives: Thriller

Apostle (2018): A Better, Modern Wicker Man

After receiving a desperate letter from his younger sister explaining that she has been taken captive by a cult on a remote island, Thomas (Dan Stevens; The Guest) is forced to join the cult in an attempt to save her. He has been dealing with his own personal issues after traumatic events left him in a mental breakdown but must put his needs aside to help the one person in his family that always believed in him. He ventures to the island to find it led by a charismatic “Prophet” named Malcolm (Michael Sheen; Midnight in Paris) who claims to be the voice of the island’s god, a being referred to only as The Lady. The film marks the English language debut of Gareth Evans best known for writing and directing the incredible Indonesian action series The Raid.

Apostle relies on drab visuals to represent the cult’s condition. The island has been developed with houses, churches, and farmland, but nothing in the production design communicates levity or joy. The cast almost exclusively wears cool, dark colors favoring muted blues, browns, and blacks. Buildings look worn from inclement weather and every daytime scene takes place under heavily overcast skies. The few characters that show signs of positive emotions soon face events that remove their happiness making for a downtrodden, gloomy community.

Thomas’s constant unease extends to the audience.

Evans successfully moves in a new direction, which may disappoint some. Fans of The Raid series looking for a continuation of the kinetic martial arts, will not be satisfied here. The film is closer to the thriller genre and relies more on tension and mystery than action. There are a few action scenes and their swift brutality reminds of Evans’s previous work, but they are few in number. The tension is created by Thomas’s infiltration of the cult. The severe consequences of being deemed a traitor or “blasphemer” are established early which makes every decision potentially lethal. Stevens displays the constant unease of the situation and appears to be looking over his shoulder at every opportunity. There are also questions surrounding the group’s unusual rituals and beliefs that may have some supernatural basis that further raise the stakes on Thomas’s mission and deepen the mystery.

The film feels like a modern, violent update to The Wicker Man. It also features a man going to save a young woman from a religious group living in isolation on an island, but Apostle takes the premise much further. It doesn’t immediately condemn people for having their own beliefs, but it also points out their moral inconsistencies. It delves into the fine line between speaking the good word and becoming a demagogue and shows how easily someone can shift between the two. Malcolm founded the community with idealist beliefs but, on the verge of famine, he has turned to kidnapping an innocent woman for ransom money. The struggles he faces test his rectitude and willingness to compromise. Other leaders are less steadfast and, while preaching virtues to others, violate them when personal issues arise. Exploring the drastic consequences of making small concessions to personal beliefs gives Apostle moral complexity to bolster its taut mystery.

4/5 stars.

Hold the Dark (2018): Vague Symbolism

Medora (Riley Keough; Mad Max: Fury Road), a mother living by herself in rural Alaska, reaches out to a writer for help in a desperate situation. Her son has been taken by wolves and though she doesn’t expect to find him alive, she wants the wolf found and killed. Russell Core (Jeffrey Wright; Broken Flowers) spent years among wolves studying their patterns and his novel gave Medora hope that he could find the one that took her son. Her husband Vernon (Alexander Skarsgård; True Blood) is deployed in the military and she wants to have some closure for him when he arrives.

Unlike director Jeremy Saulnier’s previous films, Hold the Dark has a much less explicit plot. Blue Ruin and Green Room were both simple in terms of narrative details, but the plot here relies on symbolism, psychology, and barely noticeable background details. There is a dark history to the small Alaskan town and passing comments from strangers indicate there is more to Vernon and Medora’s relationship than Core is aware. As he leaves their house a local woman tells him that there is something wrong with Medora and to stay away. This could be a great setup for Core to unravel the town’s mysteries, but that never happens.

The freezing landscape is the film’s most developed character, which isn’t saying much.

Most of the plot is left unexplained. Sometimes an ambiguous ending provides an opportunity for thought and interpretation, but that isn’t the case here. The entire story is ambiguous and feels like it is missing key details and background, which may have been lost in the transition from book to film, that are necessary to understand character motivations. Without them, several leads commit terrible crimes for little discernable reason. There is some gesturing towards animal spirits and a man wears a wolf-shaped mask before committing several murders, but it does little to entice the audience when the script, by Saulnier’s regular collaborator Macon Blair (I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore), never effectively builds on these clues or links them to the characters.

Saulnier is known for being a master of tension and genre thrills. He emphasizes the location’s frigid cold and a hopelessness that comes with the bleak environment. Yet, there are also scenes in Hold the Dark that feel straight out of a slasher movie and are incongruous with what initially seems like a gritty story of small town corruption like Winter’s Bone. The violence is well done and each shot or stab feels painful, but we never have a narrative base to interpret these actions from. The characters are not given time to develop before they act unnaturally and it prevents the audience from connecting. This in turn reduces the stakes in the skillfully composed set pieces, leaving Hold the Dark as little more than a competent production filled with vague, uninvolving symbolism.

2/5 stars.

Burning (2018): A Thriller with Pain, Rage, and Guilt

Lee Chang-dong (Poetry) has created an immersive, oppressive thriller like few others. The film, adapted from the short story Barn Burning by Haruki Murakami, follows Jong-su (Yoo Ah-in), a young man who runs into a former classmate named Hae-mi (Jeon Jong-seo) who invites him to dinner. Hae-mi seems quirky and removed from normal behavior. She practices pantomime for no particular reason and is about to leave to Africa, seemingly on a whim. The two sleep together and she departs to Africa soon after. Weeks later, she leaves Jong-su a message asking him to meet her at the airport only for him to find her arriving with another man. Ben (Steven Yeun) is her new boyfriend and as the three spend time together Jong-su begins to question Ben’s motivations.

Steven Yeun deserves immense credit for building the central mystery. He is known for his work in The Walking Dead, but here he plays an entirely different role. Ben is an obnoxiously perfect individual. He is young but somehow wealthy despite not appearing to have a demanding job – or any job at that. He says he “plays” when asked about his occupation, an answer so terse it feels condescending. But he is never overtly mean. He is actually kind to Jong-su, invites him out with his friends, and never seems to view Jong-su as a threat to his relationship with Hae-mi, again to the point of offense as if Jong-su is too plain or lowly to be a rival. Yeun communicates Ben’s personality with eerily restrained movements. His entire physique moves with a slow, quiet confidence. His words feel measured and unemotional and his aloof smiles hint, ever so slightly, that his interests lie elsewhere. Yeun subtle acting commands attention during every second of his screen time and his uncanny mannerisms make him a shadowy figure that we feel compelled to unravel.

Yeun’s perfectly controlled movements make his character all the more mysterious.

It’s rare to see a film simultaneously this quiet and this angry. Beneath the film’s placid surface is a torrent of frustration, confusion, and latent aggression. Jong-su is a disaffected youth, working jobs as needed while trying to become a writer. His father is being sent to jail for an altercation with a city inspector that could have been forgiven with a simple apology note, but he was too prideful to do so. This same pride is implied to exist within Jong-su as he suffers the indignation of being replaced by Ben as Hae-mi’s love interest. He isn’t outwardly upset, but the jealousy is present in his envious stares. Ben has appeared out of nowhere and seems to, inexplicably, eclipse him in every way possible. He is extremely handsome, poised, and apparently has an active social life – all things Jong-su cannot say. As the film’s mystery grows, so does the exasperation. Lee uses the events of this thriller to force the audience to confront the crippling ambiguity of modern life. Jong-su, despite his efforts, continues to fail in even slightly understanding the events that may have taken place. If anything, his search only leaves him with more doubts about what he previously believed. Instead of answers, he is left with pain, rage, and guilt at his own desperate situation. Lee expands the film from beyond the thriller genre to a look into hopelessness, ambiguity, and the actions they can create.

4/5 stars.

Assassination Nation (2018): Gen Z Catharsis

Assassination Nation is one of the most explicitly Gen Z titles ever made. The film opens with a trigger warning, features teens dropping modern slang, and heavily involves social media use in its plot. Four young women go about their last year of high school as typical teenagers until personal information is released online en masse and they become the target of an angry mob. The dialogue and performances of the leading teens is exaggerated to fall into the worst stereotypes of how the teens of today communicate. It can sometimes be irritating to hear the self-centered, crass way they talk but it plays into the transgressive vibe of the film.

Director Sam Levinson (Another Happy Day) leans into the Gen Z tone with his visuals. He shoots several scenes of debauchery at high school parties but does so with unique methods. He frequently uses three videos displayed in split screen like vertical footage shot on a smartphone that gives the film a voyeuristic aesthetic, reminding the viewers that every part of these teenagers’ lives could be recorded at any time, whether they want it to be or not. The abundance of these party scenes can be excessive and the depravity displayed can be a little repulsive. Levinson continues to use these sequences even after the point has been made. When things escalate and the townspeople no longer trust each other, they begin to wear masks for privacy. Regular people dressed in masks to do mundane chores like mowing the lawn is an arresting visual. It immediately drives home the lack of control we have over how our lives are displayed.

The final action scenes are a cathartic release.

Like a Black Mirror episode, the film’s themes center on technology, disregard for humanity, and an extreme case of what their collision could lead to. The film begins with a local politician having his personal pictures and texts released. They reveal a secret double life of crossdressing and homosexuality that completely contradict his conservative, family values campaign. Because of his status and the revelations found, his leaks do not come under fire. When this leads to horrific consequences, they become new topics for “edgy” humor and memes completely unconcerned with the person they discuss. Levinson takes the topic a step further when the town’s residents have their files released. The townspeople are in uproar over having their privacy violated while still downloading data about their neighbors and snooping into their personal lives. Their anger is contrasted with people, mostly teenagers, not only viewing this content but also encouraging more releases. They show no remorse for their actions and no empathy for those affected. Everything they do is “for the lulz”. Even when people are suffering from these cyber-attacks, they still cannot escape the dehumanizing effect of the internet and virality.

When the time comes for bloodshed, Levinson brings a playful and stylish tone to the action. As the townspeople try to discover, and punish, the culprits behind the data leaks, copious amounts of blood are spilled, even rivalling Neon’s other title Revenge. There are references to Japanese B-movies from the 70s in the flamboyant red outfits the women wear and in the over-the-top weaponry they use to defend themselves as Levinson has fun with their revenge. The film also features the best home invasion scene since Blue Ruin. Levinson places his camera outside the house and smoothly moves around the exterior and up and down the multiple floors, observing the trespassers and the unsuspecting victims from a distance in long unbroken takes. Rather than being an omniscient eye, the camera appears to be searching, and struggling, to follow the action. It reveals bits and pieces of people moving about and the lack of details combined with the knowledge of what is coming is nerve-wracking. Assassination Nation works as both a commentary on the dehumanization of technology and as cathartic, thrilling genre fare.

4/5 stars.

A Simple Favor (2018): Pulpy, Twisty, Riotous Fun

This one is a doozy. A hyper-involved mommy vlogger named Stephanie (Anna Kendrick; The Last Five Years) befriends a wealthy working mom named Emily (Blake Lively; Gossip Girl) when their two children ask for a playdate. The women become close until one day Emily asks Stephanie to pick up her son from school and is never heard from again. No one, not Stephanie, not Emily’s employer, and not her husband Sean (Henry Golding; Crazy Rich Asians) has any idea where she could be or what could have happened to her.

The film deftly holds the delicate balance between thriller and comedy. Director Paul Feig is known for his comedic works with hits such as Bridesmaids and Spy, but this outing borders on camp in the best way possible. The screenplay is full of outrageous story beats that may have been too much to believe on their own but by embracing the ridiculousness, Feig gives the film a playful tone. He overemphasizes character tropes with scenes like Emily’s tough businesswoman being introduced with a slow motion strut worthy of a professional wrestling entrance. Feig’s last film, the Ghostbusters reboot, suffered from what appeared to be too much onset improvisation. Here he has his actors stick much closer to the script.

Even the side characters are memorable. It’s as if the writer, Jessica Sharzer (working from the novel), forgot that they were supposed to be in the background and instead wrote them to be as interesting as the leads. There is a trio of fellow “moms” (one of them is a dad) from the school that offer their own color commentary and are tangentially connected to the plot in hilarious ways. The main investigator pops off snarky quips during his questioning, despite being on a missing persons case, and it all comes together to create a film that is constantly entertaining.

Kendrick and Lively’s odd couple dynamic is a great source of comedy.

Lively delivers a strong performance as someone with more to her than meets the eye, but it is Kendrick that steals the film. Her Stephanie can jump from awkward to funny to determined and resourceful without it ever feeling schizophrenic. She also plays the perky, overeager parent with becoming irritating. Unlike similar characters in other movies, Stephanie’s interest in helping out at school and making the perfect dinner comes from a genuine desire to be a great mom and she doesn’t hold it over the other parents. Kendrick is a terrific actress that has unfortunately spent most of her time being the standout performance in otherwise mediocre films. It is far past time that she be allowed a meatier role and this is finally it. She manages to make Stephanie convincing as she goes from stay-at-home mom to super sleuth and does so while always being endearing and funny. Let’s hope this is the start of many more interesting roles for her.

To a certain extent, A Simple Favor is a self-aware genre film like Adam Wingard’s You’re Next. The difference being that rather than riffing on horror, it draws influence from soap operas and female-targeted melodramas like The Hand That Rocks the Cradle. It takes these starting points and furthers their already ludicrous plot turns to create a thriller that is equal parts twisty, pulpy, and, more than anything else, riotous fun.

4/5 stars.

The Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017): Threats, Mistakes, and Inexplicable Illness

Yorgos Lanthimos is not a normal person. His debut film, Dogtooth, centered on a family whose children were brainwashed into believing cats were vicious predators and that the outside world was uninhabitable. His most recent movie, The Lobster, was about a man sent to a facility where he had to find a partner or else he would be turned into an animal. As strange as they may sound, each of his films is centered on a high concept. His first was about societal norms, The Lobster was about the overlooked ridiculousness of courtship, and The Killing of a Sacred Deer is about trust during a family crisis. Steven (Colin Firth; The Lobster) is a heart surgeon who spends time with Martin (Barry Keoghan; Dunkirk), the 16-year old son of a man that died during an operation. After Martin meets Steven’s family, he decides Steven must pay for the death of his father. He claims a series of illnesses will strike Steven’s wife Anna (Nicole Kidman; Lion) and their son and daughter unless Steven makes an impossible choice.

Lanthimos continues the style seen in The Lobster but with a thriller twist. Characters still speak in the same monotone with a deliberately anti-naturalist cadence. This can still lead to laughter at the sheer morbidity flowing from each deadpan delivery. Martin’s threats are spoken like a reading from a number from a phonebook, slow, clear, and punctuated. He becomes a dangerous presence despite his size. He makes no physical aggressions and maintains a withdrawn posture. He seems resigned to the fate of Stevens family, not excited by it, and is completely stoic, often trying to present logical reasoning for why they must suffer. Keoghan, an Irish actor, maintains complete control of his body language and takes Martin from a potential red flag to an enigma of potentially sadistic capability.

The camera’s distance emphasizes the insignificance of the characters.

The film’s world feels sterile and foreboding. Lanthimos tracks his characters like Kubrick in the famous tricycle scene from The Shining but places his camera at a curiously elevated height with wide angle lenses. The camera, perched near the ceiling, looms over its subjects, making them tiny figures in a pristine, but cold and empty world. The hallways of Steven’s hospital are cavernous with rooms that dwarf the staff and patients. Lanthimos adds to this atmosphere with his use of music. The soundtrack uses heavy groans from a piano and violin screeches. Everything in the production hints at the ominous nature of the events to come.

The genre of the film is as inexplicable as its narrative. It features laugh out loud moments as characters bluntly and dryly describe their situation, flashes of body horror, but, more than anything, a creeping paranoia. Like with the family from last year’s The Witch, when the kids suddenly fall ill, distrust begins to grow. What is happening and how? What are they willing to do to stop it? Farrell and Kidman’s relationship goes from loving, or at least whatever loving means in a Lanthimos film, to jagged and explosive. There are no clear answers about on what is going on and what should happen next. Instead, their suspicion breeds desperation as we witness how quickly – and violently – a family unit can be upended by an outside force.

4/5 stars.

mother! (2017): A Dizzying, Disturbing Descent

With only strange posters and cryptic trailers, details about mother! have been deliberately kept to a minimum. The new film from Darren Aronofsky is one of his stranger works. Picture the creeping suspicion from Rosemary’s Baby, the allegory of The Fountain, and paranoid jump scares like the refrigerator scene in Requiem for a Dream all mixed together with a continuously escalating sense of chaos. Jennifer Lawrence (The Hunger Games) plays the much younger wife of a poet (Javier Bardem; No Country for Old Men) who has been struggling with writer’s block. They live together in a secluded house that Lawrence is renovating while Bardem struggles to complete new material. Their peaceful isolation is broken when a strange man visits and stays for the night, bringing with him much more than expected.

Working with his regular cinematographer, Matthew Libatique, Aronofsky’s camera is fixated on Jennifer Lawrence. The film is shot in uncomfortably tight close-ups with an unstable handheld camera. Libatique employs a constantly moving technique that creates a dizzying effect. Like a lab rat desperately trying to escape a maze, the camera swerves from room to room with each movement revealing more sinister situations. Its swirling pans prevent the tension from ever receding as increasingly destructive events erupt into the frame. As Lawrence, in her best performance to date, attempts to defuse her growing predicaments, her pure, altruistic love for her husband comes into stark contrast against the predatory beings intruding into her world.

Lawrence is sympathetic as the only humane character in a world of selfishness.

This is film that begs the question “how did this get made?”. And by a major studio! It may be that Paramount was hoping to stumble onto Black Swan levels of box office success, but that film didn’t contain anything nearly as divisive. mother! becomes unapologetically twisted and downright mean. Characters suffer horrible mistreatment while others seem unconcerned which may repulse viewers unused to such transgressions. As things spiral out of control, the film never stops to explain itself. Rather than elucidate the purpose behind the disorienting thrills, the film argues that the thrills are themselves the purpose and comes to a recursive conclusion that may leave general audiences unsatisfied. mother! is a film to be appreciated as a bewildering experience rather than typical narrative.

Aronofsky has stated his intentions about the film representing climate change. Lawrence is supposed to be the embodiment of mother nature with her shameless abuse representing the damaging effect of a greedy, merciless mankind. This interpretation may help understand the film and it seems justified, but my initial thoughts went elsewhere. This is a story of the mad, all-consuming destruction wreaked by an artist. Bardem’s character’s supposed commitment to his writing is slowly revealed to be nothing more than self-absorption hiding behind a pretense of depth. Every action he takes is self-aggrandizing and he is completely dismissive of the support from Lawrence’s character. mother! is a takedown of the egotistical nature of art. It externalizes the ugliness and selfishness of people fixated on their own success. The often vile acts onscreen may be exaggerations, but they aren’t untruths. Aronofsky has created a dizzying, disquieting, and disturbing descent into the dark side of any artistic pursuit.

4/5 stars.

Good Time (2017): An Ultra-Gritty Crime Caper

Good Time should really be called Tough Luck. Directed by brothers Ben and Josh Safdie (Heaven Knows What), the film follows two bottom-rung losers as they try to steal enough money to get away from their miserable lives. Connie (Robert Pattinson; Twilight) and his mentally challenged brother Nick (Ben Safdie) attempt to rob a local bank for $65,000. When their plan goes south, Connie decides to rescue Nick which leads to a string of progressively complicated situations as he fumbles each step along the way.

The Safdie brothers bring their realistic shooting style to the caper film. The word “gritty” is frequently thrown around to describe what appears as a more realistic shooting style, but in reality, it is a relative term. The concept is often associated with the crime films of Martin Scorsese and, in comparison to most slick, mainstream films, his works do appear more down to earth, but that is only because of the excessive sheen given to the visuals of a standard Hollywood picture. The Safdie brothers employ a style that can only be described as ultra-gritty. Their actors are mostly unknowns that look like regular people. They’re unkept and not particularly attractive. Even Pattinson, the former Twilight heartthrob, looks and acts like a lowlife and the change is refreshing. The extras and minor characters seem like regular, imperfect beings and the glamour-free appearances make Connie’s flight more intense because the setting is grounded in the real world.

Nothing about the brothers’ plans go as desired.

The New York City of the Safdie brothers is a downright shithole. This is a part of Queens far away from the haute intellectual settings of a Woody Allen film. The movie was shot on film and features a pronounced film grain, adding a scrappy, low-budget feel to the actions onscreen. The houses we see are cramped and rundown and the few glimpses of better situations are short-lived. These are the dirty streets of the lower class, filled with people in perpetual cycles of barely making it by. The cast that populates the city is uniformly excellent with the direct, curt behavior expected from the NYC working class. Safdie as Nick is unrecognizable and utterly convincing as a mentally challenged character with his vacant, disconnected stares and delayed reactions. In their previous film, the Safdie brothers followed heroin addicts slumming their way through the city and the realism of their repeated self-harm almost became repulsive. Here, the entertaining characters and Connie’s relatable motivation prevent the aesthetic from becoming unpleasant. Instead, it lifts the stakes and clearly distinguishes the film from others in the genre.

Despite their disparate visual styles, the Safdie brothers have made their own version of a Michael Mann film, specifically Thief. They even use a pounding electric score that is reminiscent of Tangerine Dream’s work. The main difference is the caliber of their characters. Their protagonists, unlike Mann’s professional criminals, are horribly flawed. Connie is shown to have the seeds of good ideas and is crafty enough to momentarily avoid capture, but is not intelligent enough to fully solve his problems. The mistakes he makes as his outlook worsens are believable, but only for a desperate hoodlum with some awful decision-making. His narrow escapes exacerbate his situation and dig himself further into a hole which, to some, will almost be comedic in its escalation, but to others will be equally thrilling. The rough, realistic settings and increasingly precarious getaway make for a uniquely grounded heist movie.

4/5 stars.

I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore (2017)

[BS Note: This film is currently available for streaming on Netflix]

Winning the Grand Jury Prize in the Dramatic category at this year’s Sundance, I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore received significant buzz, despite having one of the most onerous titles since Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It is the directorial debut of Macon Blair, star of the intense thriller Blue Ruin. Like that film, this is also a revenge story. Ruth (Melanie Lynskey; Happy Christmas), a regular woman somewhere in suburban America, finds her house broken into with her furniture ransacked and her laptop and her grandmother’s silver missing. She calls the police, but, after their apparent disinterest, she decides to find the culprits herself, teaming up with her strange neighbor Tony (Elijah Wood; The Lord of the Rings).

Like 2015’s Wild Tales, this a story of normal people being pushed just beyond their limits until they finally break and act out. The film paints Ruth as the kind, unsung altruist in a world of selfishness. She spends he days caring for strangers as a nurse and treats others with respect. Yet, she doesn’t see that same kind of goodness in those around her. Other people litter, are rude, and cut in line. She feels lost and alone. The robbery and the ineffectual police response are what set her off on a path of assertiveness that eventually becomes aggression. This growth is empowering as she finally takes charge of her life and gets the things she wants and deserves.

Ruth and Tony are an unlikely, but strangely appropriate, pairing.

The film’s biggest surprise is Elijah Wood. His eccentric, religious loner is the perfect complement to Ruth. While she feels suffocated by the world, Wood’s Tony is barely even aware of it. He walks around listening to his metal and disconnected from anything or anyone around him. He decides to help Ruth because of his sense of justice, but is obviously unfamiliar with anything even remotely close to real crimes. Where others would bring a baseball bat as a weapon, he brings shuriken and a morning star, claiming to know how to use them. His strangeness is balanced by his innocence and he proves to be the perfect counter to Ruth’s increasing hostility. He is not only her companion, but is also her moral center, reminding her of what is right, what is wrong, and why she started her mission in the first place.

Blair’s choice of story and directing style are clearly influenced by his friend and frequent collaborator Jeremy Saulnier (Green Room). He uses the same stripped-down approach and also favors characters in the margins of society. The difference is that where Saulnier goes for the pure tension and gore of a genre film, Blair brings comedy. He is still able to create tense scenarios, but they are result of his characters’ own comical failures. Their fumblings are caused by their own inexperience and unintentionally raise the stakes as Ruth and Tony mess up even the simplest of tasks. They find themselves embroiled in increasingly dangerous schemes with little idea of how to remedy the situation. This comedic tone makes I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore a funny and liberating revenge thriller with agreeably offbeat leads.

4/5 stars.

Moka (2017)

Following the tragic loss of her young son, Diane (Emmanuelle Devos; Coco before Chanel) is unable to lead a normal life. She still sees visions of him and doesn’t know how to move on. Her son died in a hit and run and no one has been convicted yet. There aren’t even any suspects. Unable to wait any longer, she decides to take matters into her own hands. Using a list of cars in the area that match an eyewitness description, she sets out to find the killer herself.

Diane’s detective work puts her own objectives at risk. As she tries to understand the character of her son’s potential killers, she accidentally embeds herself deep into their lives. She finds herself falling into accidental friendships with them and her inquisition reveals more than she expected. When they were nameless murderers, possibly going uncharged for their crimes, Diane had a clear plan. Her conviction was strong and she knew what her response would be, but learning about their lives shakes the foundation of her beliefs. The details she learns humanizes them. Are these people really capable of committing a hit and run? She sees them as regular, flawed human beings rather than the cold villains she pictured and is unsure what to do next. Director Frédéric Mermoud delicately balances the crime, the criminals, and Diane’s need for justice by calling the impact of her plan into question. Even if these are the right people, how could anything to undo her loss?

Diane’s demeanor isn’t unstable enough for there to be a true risk of violence.

This is intended to be the source of the film’s tension. What will Diane do? A grieving parent may not act rationally, but as Mermoud points out, is there a rational response? Diane’s behavior is contrasted with her recently estranged husband. He says the police are working on it and that they should let them handle things. But the crime occurred seven months earlier and they haven’t had any new developments. Her husband is law abiding, but can look complacent. However, the director prevents him from appearing detached by showing brief glimpses into the husband’s own pain. The difference between him and Diane isn’t how much they loved their son, it’s how they channel their suffering. He points it inward whereas Diane throws it outward.

While the moral issue is evenly evaluated, the story sticks too closely to its genre and Diane is too predictable as a character. This is a procedural about vigilante justice and follows those tropes. Diane tails her suspects like a shabby private investigator and there is even a scene where information is exchanged on a park bench straight out of a spy thriller. Even with the extreme measures taken to find her son’s killers, Diane would need to be perceived as dangerous for the film to create suspense. There needs to be a believable threat that she could do something drastic. Devos is sympathetic as the lead, but her performance doesn’t have the unhinged menace required. She loved her son and is visibly broken by his passing, but the restraint she shows around the suspects prevents her from ever seeming deadly. She doesn’t seethe with hatred, instead she broods in pain. Without a set of equally credible outcomes, Moka loses the suspense of its central moral dilemma.

3/5 stars.