“The Rip”
With a cast of Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, Teyana Taylor, Kyle Chandler and Stephen Yeun, one couldn’t possibly go wrong, right? All but one have been nominated for, or won, an Academy Award. Alas, in “The Rip,” writer/director Joe Carnahan (“Boss Level,” “Copshop”), bobbles the ball here with an overly complicated script that confusingly employs misdirection.
Cambridge besties Affleck and Damon play Miami detectives J.D. Byrne and Dane Druthers, who are caught up in the aftermath of another detective (Lina Esco) being executed while investigating the “stash house” of a drug cartel. Byrne and Druthers are brought in for questioning about the murder. But they also have a lead on the house and assemble a crew of trusted associates (Taylor, Yuen, and Catalina Sandino Moreno) to move in.
Inside they find only a young woman (Sasha Calle) house-sitting what she says is the property of her recently deceased grandmother. When $20 million in bills is found in plastic paint buckets in the attic, she claims ignorance. Druthers takes everyone’s cellphone while he “figures thing out,” then, a-la “Assault on Precinct 13,” the streets around the abode go vacant, telephone pole lights start to blink and a barrage of bullets fly. The sum of “the rip” (confiscated drug money) was initially purported by intel to be 150K, so right away we know something’s off and that one of the crew is the rat that killed Esco’s cop and is trying to abscond with the green. As suspicions rise, hidden agendas surface and outside forces add to the pressure point. The result is a clunkier “Reservoir Dogs” (1992) or “The Usual Suspects” (1995). Affleck and Damon lean into their parts, though most of the rest of the cast, save Calle, hang in the orbit of their swagger. That’s part of the problem with this big budget escape room caper – it’s more about muscle than character or intrigue. You really want to like “The Rip,” but its stitching is too loose. — Tom Meek
Streaming on Netflix
“H Is for Hawk”
Grief, depression and goshawks may sound somber, but an outstanding, and deeply internal, lead performance by Claire Foy (“Women Talking,” “The Crown”) makes this film a reflective contemplation on navigating life’s complexities.
Based on Helen Macdonald’s memoir, the film hones in on Helen in the late aughts during her time as a research fellow at Jesus College — part of Cambridge University — and just after the death of her father, Alisdair MacDonald (played in flashbacks by Brendan Gleeson).“Ali Mac” was a renowned photographer in the ’60s and ’70s who embedded with the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. He also liked to shoot the natural world and imbued in Helen a deep love of nature. To power though her grief, Helen enlists a friend (a reflective Sam Spruell) with a passion for falconry to help her adopt a goshawk she names Mabel (after the writer and naturalist Mabel Osgood Wright). This being a quintessentially British film, not a feel-good Hollywood flick, adopting Mabel is not an unalloyed panacea – although the scenes of Mabel hunting are gorgeously framed and mesmerizing. The movie is competently directed by Philippa Lowthorpe, who worked with Foy on “The Crown,” and it’s amazing how seamlessly Foy and Lowthorpe can cast wonderment and setback as near-complementary experiences. It’s a bittersweet exploration of loneliness and self-doubt that soars on the strength of its restraint and Foy’s full embodiment of Helen’s emotional state. — Tom Meek
Playing at Landmark Kendall Square
“Mercy”
Sometimes dystopia hits too close to home. Set in the not-far-enough future of 2029, “Mercy” depicts a Los Angeles which has delegated its legal system to artificial intelligence. Violent offenders are strapped to a chair and given 90 minutes to argue their case before an AI judge; if they fail to get their likelihood of guilt below 92%, they’re executed on the spot. The system was championed by detective Chris Raven (Chris Pratt), who, naturally, finds himself in the hotseat, accused by the computer-generated Judge Maddox (Rebecca Ferguson) of murdering his wife. Raven swears his innocence, but Maddox isn’t swayed, leaving him no choice but to digitally investigate his own case before his time runs out.
A good two-hander requires a pair of skilled actors at the top of their game, like Emma Stone and Jesse Plemons in last year’s excellent “Bugonia.” Unfortunately, Pratt is offered little room for his easy comic charm and is out of his league as a grunting, sweating cop-movie cliche. Similarly, Ferguson, is able to apply none of her extraordinary charisma to her role as a stiff, emotionless sentient computer. The result is a little like watching Pratt play a particularly frustrating video game.
That “Mercy” involves Chris Pratt sitting in a chair for 90 minutes is not its worst aspect. Ostensibly a critique of AI and the surveillance state, the movie is produced by Amazon and features constant product placement for Ring and Axon (a controversial manufacturer of police body cams). Judge Maddox is portrayed as essentially reliable when not manipulated by bad (human) actors, implying that the danger lies not in an all-digital judge/jury/executioner, but in human weakness. When Raven cracks the case, it’s thanks to omnipresent cloud-based surveillance records, with a startling lack of concern for civilian privacy. In the hands of a director like Paul Verhoeven (“Robocop,” “Starship Troopers”), “Mercy” might have been a scathing satire of our tech-addled society. As it stands, it never even gets around to condemning this LA’s fenced-off “red zones” in which the unhoused and other “potentially dangerous” individuals are forced to live. This may be the first pro-dystopian science fiction film.
It’s not all bad, though. Thanks to the onscreen ticking-clock conceit, one always knows exactly how much of the film is left to endure. Maybe that’s why they call it “Mercy.” — Oscar Goff
At Apple Cinemas Fresh Pond and AMC Assembly Row 12
Cambridge writer Tom Meek’s reviews, essays, short stories and articles have appeared in WBUR’s The ARTery, The Boston Phoenix, The Boston Globe, The Rumpus, The Charleston City Paper and SLAB literary journal. Tom is also a member of the Boston Society of Film Critics and rides his bike everywhere.
Oscar Goff is a writer and film critic based in Somerville. He is film editor and senior critic for the Boston Hassle and his work has appeared in the monthly Boston Compass newspaper and publications such as WBUR’s The ARTery and iHeartNoise. He is a member of the Boston Society of Film Critics, the Boston Online Film Critics Association, and the Online Film Critics Society.
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