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).

Death of a Cyclist (Muerte de un ciclista)

 

Director Juan Antonio Bardem

Lucia Bosė

DEATH OF A CYCLIST (Muerte de un ciclista)       A-                                                              aka:  Age of Infidelity                                                                                                             Spain  Italy  (88 mi)  1955  d: Juan Antonio Bardem

After 60 years, Spanish cinema is politically futile, socially false, intellectually worthless, aesthetically valueless, and industrially paralytic. Spanish cinema has turned its back on reality and is totally removed from Spanish realistic traditions as found in paintings and novels.     —Juan Antonio Bardem, in Salamanca, Spain, 1955

An interesting relic from the Franco era in Spain that is memorable on several counts, as the writer/director Juan Antonio Bardem is the uncle of modern day actor Javier Bardem (Vicky Cristina Barcelona, No Country for Old Men, Before Night Falls) and the film won the Fipresci prize at Cannes in 1955, a time when the director was actually serving time in prison for political offenses.  Public outcry led to his release, but he was arrested several more times in his lifetime.  The director was a Communist and ardent anti-Fascist who never left Spain during the Franco regime, so certainly this social realist film may be seen through his politicized eyes examining the complacency of the Spanish bourgeois society under Franco, where fear is a common denominator that keeps people silent and in lockstep, and might be seen as his version of Buñuel’s THE EXTERMINATING ANGEL (1962), filtered through the psychologically paranoid lens of Hitchcock, giving it the feel of a horror film.  It features beautiful Italian actress Lucia Bosé, the winner of Miss Italy 1947 (which included other contestants Gina Lollobrigida, Silvana Mangano, Eleonora Rossi Drago and Gianna Maria Canale) and star of Michelangelo Antonioni's THE STORY OF A LOVE AFFAIR (1950).  Her beauty alone is striking and is central to the film as she plays María, a pampered and spoiled socialite who is comfortably married to a rich industrialist Miguel (Otello Toso) whose wealth allows her to live a life of extravagance and luxury while she is secretly having an affair with an unambitious assistant college professor Juan (Alberto Closas), whose influential family arranged for his position.  Their wealth gives them the ability to hide their secrets. 

In the opening scene, on a flat country road that extends endlessly across an empty landscape, a lone figure on a bicycle is struck by a car driven by Juan and María who quickly decide to scurry away like rats rather than help the man, Muerte de un ciclista (J.A Bardem, 1955) [HD] | FlixOlé YouTube (1:52).  The rest of the movie revolves around this single event, where the two choose to conceal their affair rather than save a man’s life, a decision that haunts them when they learn the man died on the side of the road.  In one of the strangest possible changes in mood, they immediately find themselves at a swank, upscale party where the mysteriously strange piano player, Rafa (Carlos Casaravilla), claims he saw her with Juan on the road that day and seems to relish the idea of playing a song entitled “Blackmail,” where the interplay between the two of them is choreographed like a song.  The subsequent dread at the thought of being exposed and “losing everything,” which plainly means their privileged position in society, starts gnawing away at each of them, but in a different way.  Juan visits the working class village where the dead man lived, a striking contrast of Italian realist poverty to the protected palatial estates of the wealthy, and in this manner seems to reconnect to the world around him, perhaps seeing for the first time the role social divisions play in Franco’s society, while María is seeking protection from the man she sees as an extortionist, growing more hysterical at the thought of what she stands to lose, especially from a vile bottom feeder like Rafa, who is a repulsive, Iago-like figure that dwells in a cave-like world of rumors and “dirty little secrets.”  Also an art critic, he seems perfectly at home in the dreamlike atheistic dissonance of modern art, where he finds nothing remotely peculiar or understandable in the harsh abstractions or formless expressions, but his blood curdles at the idea of always being treated as an outsider, so using devious, underhanded means to expose the hypocrisy of the rich comes natural to him, as this represents a new breed of Franco citizenry that spies on and exposes the moral ills of society, keeping the public safe from itself. 

This all comes to a head in a superb nightclub scene of Flamenco singing, where Rafa, drunk from liquor, seems to be setting the trap whispering in people’s ears, while María grows more frantically suspicious by the second, becoming a feverish montage of close ups shown with a maniacal energy that suggests madness or delirium, 🚩 Recordando a JUAN ANTONIO BARDEM YouTube (5:58).  The film benefits greatly from unusual cuts and a modern sound design, not to mention faces accentuated by white light, turning Bosé’s face into a highly fragile porcelain figurine.  Bardem elevates the hysteria of fear to unseen heights, turning this into a Hitchcock homage to horror, as everything that follows slowly unravels from its hinges, as Bosé’s María turns into a woman-in-black femme fatale who senses only the darkest ulterior motives.  It’s an unusual bit of movie hysteria, all shown in a taut 88 minutes, where the finale was altered due to the concerns of the national censors, where we’ll perhaps never know the original intentions of the director.  Shot by Alfredo Fraile, the clarity of the image is superb, where it has been suggested Bardem may have had the only 35mm camera in all of Spain.  As it is, it’s a startling social critique using sharp jagged edges shining the light on some of the darkest days in recent Spanish history, using a scathing noirish melodrama to expose how the wealthy will cling to any corrupt or immoral means to hold onto their privileged status in life, where greed and selfishness are their birthright, and supporting Franco allowed their opulent lifestyles to continue unabated.