‘How to Make a Killing’ Review: The Latest Eat the Rich Satire is Starving to Death [C-]
When the director of an impressive film made on a shoestring budget gets to spread their wings a bit with access to more money and established talent there are, broadly, two potential outcomes. The first is that the filmmaker proves that their talents translate to any scale (see: Jenkins, Barry or Gerwig, Greta). Alternatively, it can be proven out that the limited resources were actually a benefit to the original production and more horsepower makes the vehicle that is the second film wobble precariously out of control (no need to kick folks while they’re down, but feel free to get creative). The unfortunate truth is that writer/director John Patton Ford (Emily the Criminal) got a little too loose at the wheel with his latest, How to Make a Killing. As a film, it is neither fish nor fowl, not funny enough to be a successful comedy and not having anything insightful to say while operating in the genre de jour for the last decade, or so: “Eat the Rich” Cinema. The “Eat the Rich” market has become supersaturated, reaching unseen levels of redundancy, with rare recent exceptions (check out Park Chan-wook’s No Other Choice for a far superior film with an eerily similar premise.) Tonal imbalance, nonsensical plotting, and a lead who continues to misunderstand his appeal make How to Make a Killing a frustrating misfire.
Glen Powell plays Becket Redfellow, whose mother was shunned by her uber-wealthy family when she had a child out of wedlock at the age of 18. Through various circumstances, Becket ends up growing up in foster care, resenting his billionaire kin more and more over time. He does, however, find out that he is still in line to inherit his estranged family’s fortune; that is, if that line reaches its end. As the family’s youngest descendent, he has seven family members standing between him and a grand revenge (that would just so happen to also result in him getting a sum of money that would make Scrooge McDuck fall into a fit of jealous rage). So, as one does, Becket decides to put his foot on the scales of life and death, setting out to bring to a permanent end his grandfather, aunt, two uncles, and three cousins. Many say drowning or poisoning the rich is much the same as eating them, at least thematically. The cast playing his family includes wonderful performers like Bill Camp, Ed Harris, Zach Woods, and Topher Grace, though they aren’t given a ton to do and also feel like they are in different movies. This is partly because the family is barely on screen together; the film too often relies on montage and vignettes for something that should feel personal. Sometimes the trees are every bit as important as the forest.
While all of this is going on, two love interests linger on the edges of the grand scheme. Margaret Qualley plays Julia, Becket’s childhood crush and a symbol of what he lost; his green light driving him to get back what was taken from him. Becket has not seen Julia since he was shipped out with his mother to New Jersey from New York. In adulthood, Julia has transformed into every bit the wealth-obsessed narcissist that Becket reviles. She tries to exploit Becket’s infatuation with her to get what we come to find out she wants through seduction and blackmail. Qualley, who is no stranger to BIG performances, misses the mark pretty significantly with this one. She plays Julia like a Chanel-obsessed Dick Dastardly in a movie that needed more grounding to make her character compelling. It takes about 30 seconds for it to become abundantly clear that Julia has no redeeming qualities as an adult besides looking wonderful in a seductively-cut dress. Having any sort of attraction to her at this point in his life rings completely untrue to Becket’s character. It is one of the film’s greatest failings and one the film hinges on the audience buying into it.
The other entanglement is with Ruth, an aspiring fashion designer-turned-teacher who turned her back on the hustle and bustle of big business. She wants comfort and connection, just like the best version of Becket. He ends up being caught between a desire for companionship and a perceived vengeance for his mother’s poor treatment. Jessica Henwick plays Ruth as the only “real” person in the movie. She doesn’t have any bits, she has familiar problems; she is really the only character in the film to genuinely care about. In theory, Becket is the protagonist you really want to cheer on. He is the Robin Hood figure, sticking it to the rich in ways you only can in works of fiction. The problem is that Glen Powell needs new representation, or maybe a guru of some sort. In his last attempt at blockbuster stardom a mere few months ago with The Running Man, he played a character whose main trait was a constant state of anger. In How to Make a Killing, his Becket is written to be extremely clever. He knows a little bit about everything, although we never know how, and carefully plots out his procedure. Here’s the thing: Glen Powell does not read as angry and he does not read as clever in the “I learned about chemistry” sort of way. He’s all smarm and charm. It is clear in interviews that Powell has good taste and a desire to broaden his horizons, but he seems to be more of a jack of few trades, master of one. He has a superpower that can hopefully be brought to the fore, moving forward.
One of the biggest hurdles Powell is tasked with overcoming is the film’s tired, lazy framing structure. We first meet Becket in a prison cell as he awaits his execution. A priest is brought in to speak with him and Becket tells all in flowery detail. This forces the film to adhere to the patchwork structure earlier but, more troublingly, Powell’s narration simply doesn’t make sense. He rarely sounds like he is actually speaking to someone, so often references visual elements that the audience can see on screen but no one in the actual film can and he speaks in exhausting, literary language. With the crutch of narration, you would think that the twists and turns of the story would be neat and tidy, but that is far from the truth. In fact, every other scene has some baffling character action or plot contrivance. Detectives abandon evidence on a whim, the one-in-a-billion murder mystery that would absolutely dominate the news seemingly makes no waves, and the Redfellow family is preposterously oblivious. Perhaps some of the ink had run on John Patton Ford’s screenplay since it appeared on the Black List way back in 2014.
If there is a standout in the film, it is the lovely score from Emile Mosseri, who continues to establish himself as one of the brightest composers going. It is subtle and grandiose in equal measure. At its best and loudest it conjures memories of the great works of Philip Glass. The technical aspects are all pretty sleek and it is clear that Ford can make good use of a bigger budget from a painterly perspective, though his grittier work on Emily the Criminal was much more thematically resonant. Bigger isn’t always better, but it is clear that Ford has some level of chops. He is hoisted by his own petard with How to Make a Killing; let down by his own script. It isn’t just a tired conceit, but a structurally unsound piece of storytelling. Eating the rich shouldn’t involve this much gristle.
Grade: C-
A24 will release How to Make a Killing only in theaters on February 20.
In addition to his work at Awards Watch, Jay has written and hosted podcasts for Film Inquiry and InSession Film. He is an auteur obsessive, regularly diving deep into the filmographies of celebrated filmmakers.
Jay is a proud member of the Atlanta Film Critics Circle and the Georgia Film Critics Association. You can follow him on Twitter @MrJayLedbetter.
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