Joel on Film

We likely would agree that, for a platoon of police officers who all have a reason to keep it, a money drop in the six-figure range presents an ethical conundrum, and the ensemble of characters in The Rip, written and directed by Joe Carnahan, have pretty good reasons. Well, they do within the context of rampant corruption and dirty politics, at least, and since that drop is reportedly more than a quarter of a million dollars, such numbers mean a lot to the likes of these jokers and thieves. The first twist of the knife in this capably twisty thriller is that the rip—as such money drops are called when the cartels are involved—is a lot higher than any of them anticipated.

The dynamic, then, already quite complicated by the inability and/or unwillingness of any of these so-called law enforcement officials to trust each other, changes dramatically upon the revelation that a stash house hides, not somewhere in the ballpark of a quarter million dollars, but, in fact, nearly 20 million dollars. That’s more than can be counted at the scene of seizure, and since it’s untraceable and untaxable upon the moment of discovery, Carnahan’s film becomes a thriller based in a battle of wits. Who among these officers, led by Dumars (Matt Damon) and Byrne (Ben Affleck), can be trusted to do the right thing, and does “the right thing” even have a definition in this context?

It’s quite impressive how Carnahan, a filmmaker until this point who has been mostly defined by pressing down hard on the ignition in his thrillers, has crafted a thriller about waiting with this, his third film in less than a year. The dialogue is punchy, profane, and detailed in analysis of these men, their supervisors and subordinates, and one hapless scapegoat watching the house on the wrong day and under unfortunate conditions. We’ll return to that last character after a while, but until then, the movie gives us a fairly distinctive ensemble of figures.

Dumars only comes into command of this unit—known as the Tactical Narcotics Team, or “TNT”—following the murder of its previous captain, which is the film’s brief prologue, by a pair of masked, armed men. Byrne is how his second-in-command, a fact that ruffles the ranks on account of his Federal agent brother (played by Scott Adkins) and subsequently increased oversight. The rest of the team includes Ro (Steven Yeun), Baptiste (Teyana Taylor) and Salazar (Catalina Sandino Moreno), the last of whom is always trying to find the nearest phone to get in touch with her daughter (or so she says), and the cooperating DEA agent is played by Kyle Chandler.

As one can see, then, there’s a solid cast of actors in sturdy roles, and the fact that all of them are solid in performance and presence certainly helps, too. At the forefront of that and perhaps making up the elephant in the room in terms of its ensemble is pairing Damon and Affleck, each of whose careers might never quite be extricated from the other, as very old friends and longtime partners, in a story that eventually allows the two to flex some muscles of antagonism toward each other. It’s an able pairing, obviously, and each of them is solid on their own, too—particularly Damon, whose Dumars needs constantly to evaluate a devolving situation.

If the movie is mostly about waiting, it’s really all about reaching the twist, and even if this twist is sort of given away by the act of paying attention as closely as the characters must, it arrives just in time for a climax with firepower as muscular as its actors’ biceps. The shootout/car chase hybrid of a set piece that results might be the easiest cliché to fall back on for a movie like this, but then again, this is also Carnahan’s bread-and-butter as a genre stylist. Setting aside the inevitability of it, the way the movie delivers the shootout, by beginning from a point of stasis and then escalating systematically until carnage is the only possible option, is seriously impressive.

The movie is also slightly elevated by that one as-yet-unmentioned character, who is always present in the house, absorbing every twist alongside us and calculating moves internally, while playing something of a game of her own. She is the house’s current occupant, played by Sasha Calle in an exceptionally calibrated portrait of both uncertain fear and unassuming cunning. Not much should be said about how this character, named Desi, fits into the story, but she certainly isn’t a mere hostage, nor does she comport herself as just a cartel lackey.

The Rip is smart to use its characters in the way that it does, because they—not the plot that undoubtedly gives into routine with its twists and action, even if both elements are sturdy—matter about as much as they should to Carnahan. The movie throws those characters for a loop and watches them squirm.

Rating: *** (out of ****)