Dead Man's Wire

 

Director Gus van Sant

van Sant on the set with Bill Skarsgård

Pulitzer prize-winning photo of Tony Kiritsis and Richard Hall

DEAD MAN’S WIRE           B-                                                                                                  USA  (105 mi)  2025  d: Gus van Sant

I’m a goddamn national hero and don’t you forget it.                                                                  —Tony Kiritsis (Bill Skarsgård)

This film reads like a fictionalized documentary, updating an explosive story making all the headlines in 1977 when Tony Kiritsis kidnapped at gunpoint the president of a mortgage company, wiring him to a shotgun pointed at his head and holding him captive in his own apartment for three days, claiming the mortgage company deliberately sabotaged his 17-acre investment property project of developing a reasonably priced shopping center, believing they knowingly convinced the developer to build elsewhere on property they owned.  In a rampage filled with expletives, he instantly became a media darling when he aired his grievances over the television and radio airwaves, becoming something of a folk hero for some, like a little guy finally standing up the heavily-connected giants of finance, finding himself caught in a post-Watergate world of mistrust and greed that would only be amplified further in the Reagan years a decade later, while faith in core institutions has faded even further today.  All taking place in the Midwest heartland of Indianapolis, the story reads like a plea for vigilante justice that pre-dates all the sensationalism of social media coverage of today, like the arrest of Luigi Mangione for shooting and killing the CEO of a large healthcare conglomerate, with van Sant satirizing a society that allows people to be exploited and then applauds them when they react in extreme ways, a reminder of how much worse things have gotten, as populist anger is reflected in contemporary headlines, with some wondering if these outrageous acts can actually be justified.  Van Sant was born in Louisville, Kentucky, where this film was actually shot, also the birthplace of Hunter S. Thompson, whose groundbreaking Gonzo journalism unleashed a torrent of first-person subjectivity that remade the media in the 60’s and 70’s, though van Sant has long been associated with Pacific Northwest filmmaking, aligned with the city of Portland, along with fellow indie director Kelly Reichardt, crafting compelling portraits of outsiders and outlaws, where the works he’s most associated with are New Queer Movement cornerstones MALA NOCHE (1986), DRUGSTORE COWBOY (1989), and My Own Private Idaho (1991), all shot in Portland, the star-driven GOOD WILL HUNTING (1997) and To Die For (1995), the more experimental GERRY (2002), ELEPHANT (2003), LAST DAYS (2005), and Paranoid Park (2007), and the biographic MILK (2008), which this film most closely resembles, as it’s based on real-life circumstances.  Coming from a long line of scheming, delusional “losers” in van Sant films, from Matt Dillon’s DRUGSTORE COWBOY to Nicole Kidman’s toxic, fame-seeking, TV reporter in To Die For, alternating between experimental films and more mainstream-oriented, star-driven projects, this film will recall Jodie Foster’s Money Monster (2016), but has a more direct connection to Sidney Lumet’s Dog Day Afternoon (1975), with Al Pacino, the appealing young star of that film, reappearing here in a significant role, where it also seems influenced by Alan J. Pakula’s psychological suspense thriller, Klute (1971), which ushered in the era of 70’s paranoid conspiracy theory movies.  While it’s brazenly disturbing and mildly amusing, with the director returning to feature films after a seven-year absence, viewers may find themselves feeling a disconnect with the central protagonist, as taking things to this extreme reveal a greater underlying problem that is never addressed, leaving a giant hole in the heart of the picture, where criminality and bizarre psychological desperation are inevitably linked.  There is a curious musical choice, Labi Siffre - Cannock Chase (Official Lyric Video) YouTube (4:05), which was also heard in Joachim Trier’s 2025 Top Ten List #1 Sentimental Value  (Affeksjonsverdi), sounding very much like America’s Horse with No Name, America - Horse With No Name (1972) (Official Music Video) YouTube (4:08), while music of Deodato, Roberta Flack, Yes, Harper’s Bizarre, and Gil Scott-Heron add subversive undertones.      

At the center of the picture is Tony Kiritsis (Bill Skarsgård, Stellan’s son, doing his best Michael Shannon imitation, is ten years younger than the figure he is portraying), seen arriving at the Meridian Mortgage Company in the early morning after falling behind on his mortgage payments through predatory loans, convinced that the company has deceived him, foreclosing on a mortgage while depriving him of the income to pay it.  He has an appointment with the owner and CEO M.L. Hall (Al Pacino), but he’s out of town, so instead he’s pleasantly greeted by his son Richard (Dacre Montgomery), the firm’s president, walking him back to his office, where things get a little dicey, as the package Tony is carrying is a sawed-off 12-gauge shotgun that has been rigged with two wires, one around Richard’s neck, with another “deadman’s switch” from the trigger to his own neck, Dead Man's Wire Movie Clip - Getting Started (2026) YouTube (1:13).  Walking gingerly through the building, ordering the security guards away, he forces Hall out of the building and onto the streets in near-zero weather with snow on the ground, surrounded by policemen and journalists, where they can’t just shoot him, as it will trigger the shotgun, Dead Man's Wire - Hand's official clip YouTube (1:04), so they’re in a violent stand-off until Kiritsis commandeers a police car and drives to his home in the Crestwood Village apartments, which he claims is rigged with explosives.  A few other details happen simultaneously, as a local TV news crew led by a young and still unrecognized Linda Page (Myha’la), who is not yet an on-air personality, as at the time there were still a shockingly small number of black women broadcasters seen on-air, gets wind of what’s happening and films the incident, drawing her network’s attention, while a police detective Michael Grable (Cary Elwes) also arrives on the scene, holding officers at bay, attempting to remain calm amidst this inflammatory situation before it could get even uglier.  Like any good heist movie or police procedural, the principle players are slowly introduced, becoming recognizable presences onscreen, including the charismatic “voice of Indianapolis,” Fred Temple (Colman Domingo), a revered jazz radio host who regularly interacts with callers, like a voice of the people, and is the epitome of cool.  When he receives word of a live kidnapping in progress, with the kidnapper reaching out to speak to him, it comes as a huge surprise, Dead Man's Wire Movie Clip - Open With That (2026) YouTube (58 seconds).  Temple is the voice of calm and reason, who unwittingly becomes a facilitator at ending the standoff, while Kiritsis remains a hothead throughout, though he goes out of his way to be polite to the people he knows or respects, like Fred Temple, First Time Caller Scene | DEAD MAN'S WIRE (2025) Movie ... YouTube (3:53), and for all the threats and profanity-charged outlandishness, he does have occasional quiet moments of respectability, frequently apologizing for his crude language.  But he’s more of an attention-grabbing caricature than a real human being, as his ever-evolving portrait is a collaboration of police work, news reports, and callers from ordinary people, each seeing things differently, creating a kaleidoscopic, elusively skewed perspective, a precursor of how the Internet and cellphones have changed how news is presented, yet it’s hard to find a film more reflective of the inequitable times we currently live in.

Written by first-time screenwriter Austin Kolodney, who comes from a comedy writing background, having written for Comedy Central, yet the characters are imperfectly realized, with little to no backstory, and while understandable for the part they play in the story, there’s simply no depth to any of them, making it difficult to engage with this picture.  While M.L. Hall is vacationing in Florida, with Kiritsis insisting on speaking to him, demanding an apology, along with $5 million dollars in compensation and a promise of no prosecution, Dead Man's Wire Exclusive Movie Clip - Power (2026) YouTube (1:33), Hall’s cold indifference is built into the film, fueled by his own sleazy, larger-than-life ego, never wanting to get his hands dirty, yet his decisions drive the entire scenario, completely disconnected not only from his mortgage holders, but also his own family, which includes the callous disregard and willing sacrifice of his own son Richard, as he’s willing to allow him to become collateral damage rather than apologize directly to Kiritsis in order to free him, Dead Man's Wire Movie Clip - Apologize (2026) YouTube (1:10).  This doesn’t sit well with viewers (or Richard, by the way), or the radio listeners, holding him in utter contempt, much like the equally disconnected billionaires of today who simply refuse to ever admit to any wrongdoing, yet are responsible for some of the worst and most atrocious human behavior.  Watching this play out is like witnessing an ongoing train wreck, with Kiritsis always having the final word, delivering obscenity-fueled monologues on the air, with footage of all-American hero John Wayne appearing on his television screen, where his People’s Choice Award acceptance speech is interrupted, cutting straight to live coverage of Kiritsis, creating a true-life interplay of outlaw entertainment with news of the day, where he’s simply much more relatable to the man on the street than the overly privileged CEO’s of the world who are used to getting their way and always want to control the narrative.  This was originally scheduled to be filmed in 2018, with Werner Herzog as director and Nicolas Cage as the lead actor, but the production lingered, eventually needing someone who could make the film quickly, so van Sant took over the project, crafting a 1970’s-inspired visual language rooted in handheld realism and cinema vérité.  Shot in just 19 days by Arnaud Potier in something of a run-and-gun production of an American Dream gone wrong, it triggers a moment in time when media expanded their power while also probing into the excavation of contemporary mythmaking, elevating one man’s misguided sense of heroism into a protracted class struggle, happening in small town America where things like this rarely occur, though the mother of all exceptions to the rule would have to be the Truman Capote journalistic exposé of the heartbreaking murders in Richard Brooks’ In Cold Blood (1967).  With epic rants and sardonic twists, and with van Sant exploring the shadowy psychological corners of a life-and-death experience, the emotional rollercoaster takes us on a wild ride, but where it all leads is open to question.  There is an existing 2018 documentary film by Alan Berry and Mark Enochs (local Indianapolis guys who are listed as consultants on this film) entitled DEAD MAN’S LINE, Dead Man's Line | The True Story of Tony Kiritsis (Full ... full movie on YouTube (1:37:39), which documents the rise of voyeuristic TV news and the 24-hour news cycles, with the filmmakers sending Kolodney police reports, newspaper clippings, and video coverage of the original incident, 'Dead Man's Wire' revisits infamous Indianapolis hostage ... YouTube (4:06), with actual footage playing out over the end credits, where a photograph of Kiritsis with the rifle pointed at the back of the neck of Richard Hall won the Pulitzer Prize in 1978 (A Pulitzer Picture).

Nocturama

NOCTURAMA            B                  

France  Germany  Belgium  (130)  2016  ‘Scope  d:  Bertrand Bonello

Another variation of Fassbinder’s THE THIRD GENERATION (1979), a political film set during the era of the Baader-Meinhof Gang (later called the Red Army Faction), revolutionary cells in the 70’s that carried out terrorist activities across the country, wreaking havoc with the status quo.  Fassbinder’s film is more of a satiric spoof of the bourgeois elite who comprise an offshoot underground movement of leftist radicals who come across more like a gang that couldn’t shoot straight, a rag tag group that reads all the literature, holds clandestine meetings, and believes fervently in what they’re doing, but haven’t any coherent ideology to speak of, remaining utterly clueless about how to accomplish social change, instead it’s more of a lifestyle choice, where they believe what they’re doing is fashionably chic.  The biting sarcasm becomes even more exaggerated in this film, which is basically divided into two halves, with the first part nearly wordless, featuring various characters following an exact regimen, following their watches, with time repeatedly imprinted onscreen, as if everything is scripted and coordinated as they take metro trains, pick up or deliver packages, including keys to carefully placed cars, enter buildings, pass through security, and walk through endless hallways, most of it in real time, where it feels like a satiric take of a meticulously synchronized thriller, like RIFIFI (1955), but pales in comparison, as this is more spread out, covering more territory, where the audience has no idea what’s going on as no background information is provided, yet it all seems to be taking place in secret, behind closed doors or in cloistered chambers before finally discarding burner phones after exiting.  Something we find odd is that it’s hard to care about what these individuals are doing as none of the characters are revealed to the viewers, remaining blank slates, where an hour into the film we still haven’t a clue who they are or what they’re doing, where the aloof style of the film intentionally distances the audience, nonetheless, what it amounts to is a choreography in motion through the streets of Paris, like something Rivette accomplished in a variety of his films such as Out 1 and Jacques Rivette R.I.P. (1971), Céline and Julie Go Boating (Céline et Julie vont en bateau)  (1974), and Le Pont du Nord (1981), where he made it a point to crisscross through distinctly recognizable Parisian streets, creating what amounts to loving time capsules of a beautiful city.  Bonello on the other hand is content to travel through non-descript hallways and inner rooms that could be just about anywhere, where the city and featured characters remain discreetly anonymous.    

  

Certainly one aspect driving the suspense is a pulsating, electronic score written by the director himself, paying homage to none other than John Carpenter, whose haunting, atmospheric musical themes provide chilling counterpoint to his visceral thrillers throughout his indelible career.  As daylight turns into early evening, Bonello uses a device of four screens, like security experts watching a panel of different viewpoints, with explosions of violence erupting on each screen, followed by close-up views of each moment, where this is the first sign of what this film is really about.  When jolted into a better understanding of the master plan, the irony is that it seems small and insignificant, as the target was not human life, but they just wanted to blow up stuff, like the Weather Underground of the late 60’s and early 70’s.  But while the 60’s radicals targeted government buildings, along with several banks, they were also careful to alert these institutions ahead of time in order to evacuate humans to safety, while also sending a political message with each attack.  This group showed no such foresight, nor does it appear they are particularly concerned about others, as throughout the film they show a decided self-interest, identifying with the Selfie generation.  This scattershot approach to radicalism resembles Antonioni’s Zabriskie Point (1970), a picture of a fractured America expressed through a portrait of young radicals, police violence, capitalist cronies, endless desert landscapes and discontented youth, using unknown stars who had never acted before, where the prerequisite was not acting talent, but to flaunt their youth and be completely unashamed.  Jump ahead half a century and this film seems to be exploring similar themes, using a modern era context where smartphones have replaced the counterculture, where people are nearly always electronically connected to something of interest, resembling the giant advertising billboards in Antonioni’s film, as much of this feels entirely random.  In a mysterious turn, all the participants meet afterwards in an upscale department store, hiding to avoid detection until it is safely closed and locked up for the night.  While we see a few security guards start their rounds, in a gruesome turn of events, none are around to complete them, subject to a specific brutality that makes little sense and seems like it happened more out of convenience than anything else.  What’s radically different about this eclectic group of outsiders is that they have no common cause or ideology, where the director leaves out any hint at why this happened, suggesting they may not know themselves, which makes it all the more chilling. 

When an all clear is given, our motley group comes out into the open and is finally identified as a group, a collection of privileged white university students along with a couple of Arab kids, where it’s never clear how they all came together, or even what they were trying to accomplish.  Instead, a security guy from the building, a new character we’ve never seen, has complete familiarity with the building, turning on the lights as well as the escalator, where people are free to wander around at will, trying on clothes, playing with various electronic gadgets, even riding around on a little mini-car, as well as invading the food courts and liquor cabinets, turning it into a party atmosphere, breaking off into smaller groups, friendships or love affairs, where they even blast contemporary music out of the sound system, feeling very good about themselves, completely disconnected from their earlier business.  As they wander around the building, the interaction with name brands and recognizable merchandise adds a degree of interest, as they’re hardly anti-capitalists, as these kids are completely at home in a capitalistic paradise, happily indulging themselves.  While there are televisions galore to watch the city recovering from the attacks, most show little interest, where the lack of curiosity certainly stands out, as these are not the brightest kids, some obviously having it all too easy, where a brother and sister compare alibis given to their mother for a night away from home, revealing the kind of personal attachments they still have.  Borrowing the security guard phone, who must remain accessible to his employer, one even calls his mother to send his love.   Other than that, they are all cellphone free so as not to leave any traces for the police.  Without it, apparently, this kids are completely rudderless, as not one of them is seen reading a book or writing something of significance, instead they appear bored with themselves and each other, as if that is their driving force.  As they wander the grounds, one of them even goes outside to smoke a cigarette, exploring the vicinity, asking about what happened, clearly unafraid of being seen by security cameras or the thought of being captured, even inviting a homeless couple inside, telling them there is plenty of food, adding a Buñuelian touch of the macabre when they have a feast and gorge themselves, where it all looks so ridiculously out of place, perhaps the only carefree zone in the entire city that is not affected by what is being described as terror attacks.  Occasionally one or two of them will have thoughts about what might happen to them, even thinking the worst, but they’re only really thinking of themselves.  Without warning, or revealing how they found out, a SWAT team moves into the ground floor and works its way up each floor, radically altering their smug view of themselves.  Immediately, two films come to mind, the fatalism of van Sant’s ELEPHANT (2003), where viewers remain clueless to the killer’s motives throughout, yet the camera wanders the halls first revealing the banality of just another ordinary day before the armed killers alter the mood entirely by seeking to execute anyone they see in those same halls, but also Fritz Lang’s M (1931), where the police systematically go floor by floor in a similar multi-floor office building that is closed for the night, hunting a trapped criminal suspect who is hidden somewhere inside.  But Lang builds an extensive psychological profile of both the deranged criminal and the police while all but inventing the police procedural film, while this in comparison feels overwhelmingly empty, void of any real purpose, with characters we never really get to know, where you couldn’t even call these kids terrorists, but in this day and age the police have little choice but to mercilessly treat them as such.  This film feels like terrorism light, as it’s not the real thing, becoming more of a satire on how easily kids can confuse grandiose ambitions with reality.