Joel on Film

One can feel the effort within How to Make a Killing to forge a pitch-black comedy about the haves and the have-nots. The inspiration is clearly there: The screenplay is a modernized adaptation of the 1907 novel Israel Rank: The Autobiography of a Criminal (by Roy Horniman), which was previously adapted into Kind Hearts and Coronets, the classic 1949 film starring Alec Guinness in an octuple role. The concept here is also darkly funny, as a young man born from privilege but still something of an outcast plots to murder potential heirs of a great fortune in order to inherit it himself.

To his credit, writer/director John Patton Ford does manage to convince us that the members of the Redfellow family being targeted by our protagonist probably deserve what Becket (Glen Powell) dishes out to them, but then again, that’s sort of an easy and uncomplicated task. The bigger task is to take this premise, which is rooted in repetition, and do something more interesting with it than simply watching as Becket conceptualizes and executes, well, an execution apiece. We get the point pretty quickly when he pulls off the first one, which requires him to hitch cousin Taylor’s (Raff Law) leg to an anchor, drop said anchor into a lake and let gravity do the rest.

That’s how this whole affair is going to go, Ford tells us, as Becket proceeds to plan the murders (to look like accidents, of course) of his family members. Becket does not actually know any of these people, and they do not know him, as we learn that his branch of the family has been ignored since before he was born, on account of a mother who was revered until she wasn’t. His childhood could have been spent in a state of wealth and upper class, but that’s not how it worked out—though, because of an ironclad trust, Becket is still on the path to gain an 11-figure inheritance.

This is where the idea to knock off the other inheritors comes in, because as of this moment, Becket is the last in line to be considered for that inheritance. As a child, he never cared as much about that money as for the romantic prospects with Julia, a pretty girl from his neighborhood who became as enamored as he. In adulthood, she is played by Margaret Qualley with an intriguing kind of cold allure, popping back into Becket’s life under mysterious circumstances that are generally far more interesting than the main thread of the plot.

Anyway, after targeting the douchebag cousin, he moves on to a bunch of other family members, plotting different demises for each and giving a motley crew of actors the opportunity to build, however briefly, an interesting and diverse ensemble. There are a couple more cousins (Zach Woods as an amateur artist, Topher Grace as an evangelizing grifter), a pair of uncles (played by Bill Camp and Sean Cameron Michael), an aunt (played by Bianca Amato) and the grandfather and patriarch, played by an actor who probably should remain a surprise, even though the voice and mannerisms are instantly recognizable. The gamble works well enough, especially in the cases of Woods and Camp and that final-boss actor, all of whom dig into distinct personalities.

The problem, though, is that Ford gives into routine far too quickly, without digging into the elements that might afford the film any type of depth or emotional context. Yes, Becket balances his long-gestating feelings for Julia (which, in any case, harden and begin to detach as she ropes him into her own scheme, involving a douchebag husband) with newfound ones for Ruth (a very good Jessica Henwick), a love interest with ties to one of the cousins. Then again, that latter relationship depends entirely upon tedious dramatic irony and, always, the possibility of the other shoe dropping, which isn’t interesting as a set of stakes or, really, a romance beyond some sweet moments.

The real crime, though, is the film’s framing device, in which Becket sits on death row, in the final hours before his scheduled execution, narrating this whole story to a priest (played by Adrian Lukis) called in to administer absolution and last rites. As a slightly dark comedy, How to Make a Killing distracts itself from its funniest targets in favor of broad satire, a sense of mission and—most randomly—a final confrontation that comes down to bow-and-arrow vs. shotgun.

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