By George & Josh Bate
From To Die For to Elephant to Milk, Gus Van Sant has built a reputation for masterminding films that shine an uncannily relevant and authentic light on the complexities of life in the United States. With Dead Man’s Wire, Van Sant’s first feature in six years, the filmmaker once again wrestles with unsavory aspects of American culture, this time around telling the strange and unbelievable true story of a 1977 kidnapping that harbors striking relevance to contemporary America.
Dead Man’s Wire stars Bill Skarsgård as Tony Kiritsis, an Indiana man irate with a local bank’s mistreatment of him. Taking it upon himself to enact justice, Tony wires a shotgun to Richard Hall (Dacre Montgomery), the son of wealthy bank power M.L. Hall (Al Pacino), and holds him for ransom until he receives the money and apology he believes he is owed. As he navigates an increasingly chaotic situation, Tony becomes the subject of great media attention, led by reporter Linda Page (Myha’la), and finds an unlikely ally in local radio DJ Fred Temple (Colman Domingo).
Gun Van Sant is hardly known for directing crowdpleasers, but Dead Man’s Wire is as close to a crowdpleaser as the director’s filmography gets. Van Sant and screenwriter Austin Kolodney (in his feature screenwriting debut) deftly handle serious true-crime subject matter with an offbeat levity that remarkably never tramples on its high-stakes and tension. Lead actor Bill Skarsgård operates seamlessly within this tone Van Sant and Kolodney aim for, delivering a commanding and darkly hilarious performance as the incensed and endearingly dopey Tony Kiritsis. Skarsgård is never far from a witty line or funny delivery in the film, and yet the film remarkably retains a palpable level of suspense throughout. In part, this balance is achieved through an ensemble of strong supporting performances, all of which convey the gravity of a situation in a way that Skarsgård’s Tony doesn’t entirely seem to grasp. It’s a tonal balancing act that could have easily gone awry in leaning too comedic as to dampen upon the tension or too serious as to undercut its populist messaging, although Van Sant exhibits a consistently handing on the material and characters.
Skarsgård’s performance only grows more outstanding as the film progresses and Tony Kiritsis begins to embrace his newfound status as outlaw folk hero. The Swedish actor fluctuates, often within the same line, from enraged to excitable as his character’s anger gives way to hope and even bewildering joy. Given the strength of Skarsgård’s past performances, it’s difficult to say this is his most impressive turn, but it certainly ranks among his best and most immersive.
Unfortunately, fairly one-dimensional character development means Van Sant fails to take full advantage of his lead actor’s extraordinary performance. The film never offers a thorough understanding of Tony Kiritsis beyond his anger and desire for justice, leaving the nuances and psychology of Skarsgård’s character disappointingly underdeveloped. In coupling stronger character work with its admittedly strong social commentary, Dead Man’s Wire would have likely taken on an entirely new level of quality and craft and elevated it from a crowd-pleasing and relevant period piece to something more profound and emotional. Instead, the viewer is left wishing they knew more about the inner-workings of Tony Kiritsis, which, in turn, would have enhanced the emotional punch of the story.
The story, however, still packs a timely punch. It doesn’t take long into the rapidly paced Dead Man’s Wire to realize that the film’s portrayal of a man turning to violence to wrest control from the privileged elite in 1977 bears uncanny resemblance, however intentional, to Luigi Mangione and the murder of UnitedHealthcare Brian Thompson. Much like Mangione, Kiritsis quickly became an outlaw hero, representing the dismay of the masses after years and years of maltreatment from the wealthy. The methods employed by Mangione and Kiritsis to push back against this maltreatment invite discussions of morality and the ends justifying the means, but they nonetheless strike a nerve in showing just how desperate the average American has become. It’s through the exploration of this theme that Van Sant’s film proves most thought-provoking and becomes more than a crowd-pleasing hostage flick. Despite the nearly 50 years that separates the crimes of Kiritsis and Mangione, their parallels are striking and place the viewer in an uncomfortable, yet necessary, position to assess where they stand on such morally complex vigilantes and their fight against corporate power.
Although its commentary holds relevance far beyond 1977, Dead Man’s Wire wonderfully embraces its period setting. The design teams meticulously recreate 1970s Indianapolis, with period-accurate architecture, advertisements, costumes, technology, and more that fully immerse the audience in this specific slice of history. Arnaud Potier’s cinematography furthers the film’s authenticity in making it look and feel like it was filmed in the 1970s, not unlike Dog Day Afternoon. Sidney Lumet’s iconic heist film clearly influenced the style of Van Sant’s film, and Al Pacino’s inclusion in a small role is a nice touch to acknowledge this influence.
Van Sant and Potier further create an immersive viewing experience through the inclusion of actual news footage from the hostage situation. They interject this footage selectively throughout the film as a reminder that the wild story we are witnessing is indeed a true one. The duo also intelligently cut together their own footage of their actors and sets designed to look like historical news footage, further blurring the lines between reality and dramatization in the film.
VERDICT: 7.5/10
Gus Van Sant returns after six years with his most crowd-pleasing and commercial feature to date. Recreating a strange and unbelievable true story, Dead Man’s Wire deftly handles serious true-crime subject matter with an offbeat levity that remarkably never tramples on its high-stakes and tension. What results is a movie that trades quotable, laugh-out-loud moments with palpable suspense, ultimately evidencing a masterclass in tone from Van Sant. Bill Skarsgård operates superbly within the tone his director establishes in delivering an electric and darkly funny performance as the irate and endearingly dopey Tony Kiritsis. Unfortunately, the heights of Skarsgård’s performance are limited by one-dimensional character work that fails to develop Tony beyond his anger and desire for justice, thus depleting the film of nuance and emotional impact. Thankfully, the film still packs a timely punch in the inevitable parallels drawn between Kiritsis and the recent controversy surrounding Luigi Mangione, collectively inviting the audience to investigate its fascination with vigilantism and what this says about our moral compass. Despite holding relevance beyond its 1977 setting, Van Sant, cinematographer Arnaud Potier, and the design teams meticulously recreate 1970s Indianapolis, in part by splicing in actual news footage from the real-life story, thus rendering the film an immersive viewing experience that blurs the lines between reality and dramatization. In hearing about the true story on which it is based, Dead Man’s Wire does not seem like it would be a crowd-pleaser. But that’s certainly what Gus Van Sant has crafted here – a crowd-pleaser with something simultaneously timely and timeless to say.