Glen Powell loves a disguise. From his headlining gig under heavy makeup on TV’s “Chad Powers” to going incognito mode in films like “The Running Man,” the ascendant actor elevates the subtext of role-playing to a defining feature of his star persona. These roles offer a window into Powell’s philosophy as an actor, which he explicitly articulated in “Hit Man” (a film he also co-wrote): masquerading as a character can often provide a gateway into understanding and shaping one’s true self.
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Powell mines this terrain a second time, albeit much less fruitfully, in John Patton Ford’s “How to Make a Killing.” This soft remake of the classic Ealing Studios comedy “Kind Hearts and Coronets” once again places the actor in scenarios where he dons various outlandish drags. Here, these alter egos pave the way for Powell’s Beckett Redfellow to gain access to effete family members standing between him and a $28 billion inheritance. But these disguises are but a dead end in satire-cum-noir because the film has no sense of who this protagonist is underneath it all.
The framing device of “How to Make a Killing,” which it shares with both the aforementioned film and its source material, “Israel Rank: The Autobiography of a Criminal,” does not attempt to hide Beckett’s true nature. He’s making a death-row confession to a priest about his involvement in the deaths of seven relatives ahead of him in the line of succession. This self-incriminating shortcut skips past the necessary character development of what might lead him to such destructive and self-defeating ends.
The most straightforward explanation is, of course, humorous exaggeration. Beckett’s mother, whose affair with a wealthy Redfellow heir got their family exiled (but not entirely disowned), raised him under the expectation that he should have “the right kind of life.” In a dog-eat-dog, capitalistic society, a young man could easily internalize this mantra and follow it logically into absurdity to justify murder all the way up his family tree. His grandfather (Ed Harris) is named “Whitelaw,” after all, which couldn’t be any less subtle as a symbolic name.
But Ford’s film largely eschews the comedic treatment of his British forebearer. Some traces of it peek out, including at such inopportune moments as the beat right before the climactic height of a tense chase scene. Instead, “How to Make a Killing” operates primarily in the vein of a noir-tinged thriller, complete with Margaret Qualley doing her best femme fatale impersonation as foil to Beckett.
The film moves at a languid pace thanks to protracted scenes meant to draw out suspense more than laughter. Never mind that this editing style robs leading man Powell of one of the primary weapons in his arsenal: the quick-witted repartee. His charm dissipates amid all this dead air, leaving ample space to contemplate the film’s thin socioeconomic commentary.
The level of detail about the student debt crisis that Ford included in his previous feature, “Emily the Criminal,” is absent here. That specificity helped elevate what was otherwise a standard-issue crime drama plot, and “How to Make a Killing” gets no such lifeline. Ford’s portrait of a stratified contemporary economy paints with broad brushstrokes.
While the United Kingdom and the United States share many commonalities, local nuances exist that Ford’s international transposition does not account for. The end goal of the murderous protagonist of “Kind Hearts and Coronets” is not obscene wealth but a title of nobility. Some hints of outer-borough resentment emerge in the New Jersey-bred Beckett. But rather than burrowing deep into the same forces that propelled figures such as Donald Trump and Jeffrey Epstein, the film tries to make a one-for-one swap of class for capital. Heck, Park Chan-wook’s “No Other Choice” feels like a more faithful adaptation of the source’s spirit.
The material’s dualities trap Ford between continents, not to mention genres and tones. “How to Make a Killing” vacillates wildly between mockery and moralizing as Beckett’s spree illuminates the capricious carelessness of wealth. The film struggles to square the circle between turning the spoiled scions into caricatures – Raff Law’s dumb party boy, Zach Woods’ dopey artist, Topher Grace’s unholy megachurch preacher – and an earnest heart expressed by Jessica Henwick’s humble teacher and love interest. Ford never figures out how to spotlight both sides of the double-edged sword.
The closest he comes to finding a pulse occurs during Beckett’s brief period of stability in a job at his benevolent uncle Warren’s (Bill Camp) company. His constant narration throughout the film says everything. Still, it reveals precious little … save one stray observation of how comfortable he feels among a class of professionals who make their living by skimming a percentage off the fortunes of others. It’s a perverse but honest confession in a film that purports to be in such a mode for its entire runtime. A muted Powell working in a more dramatic register proves capable of selling beats like this, yet he’s failed by a film that offers him no coherent character foundation or development.
The prison chaplain reaches for Psalm 23 to comfort Beckett ahead of his execution, but perhaps he should have reached for some New Testament truth. “What good is it for someone to gain the whole world,” Jesus once asked his disciples, “yet forfeit their soul?” It’d be a good question to ask the film itself, if it had any insights into its protagonist’s soul whatsoever. [C]
“How to Make a Killing” releases in theaters on Friday, February 20.
