Tag Archives: Bart Layton

Diamond Life

Crime 101

by George Wolf

I saw the fairly generic title, I saw the February release date, I saw the two hour and twenty minute run time, and I was less than excited about Crime 101.

Let me tell you how quickly it proved me wrong.

Writer/director Bart Layton and a cracking ensemble put a stylish, character-driven sheen on some familiar crime thriller tropes. What results is a tense and twisty ride that taps into a healthy amount of world weary anxiety.

Chris Hemsworth is Mike, a controlled and elusive master thief, dealing in diamonds and jewelry along the California coast. Mark Ruffalo’s Lou is a disgruntled and disheveled L.A. cop out to prove his theory of a lone wolf criminal. And Halle Berry is Sharon, a high-end insurance broker who deals in plenty of bling.

And long before their lives intersect, Layton (adapting Don Winslow’s novella) brings authenticity to the disillusion the three characters share. Each feels they’re grasping at something just out of reach, trying to live with certain ideals that have lost value. Lou’s refusal to put arrest quotas first does not make him popular at work, while Sharon feels her chance at a big promotion may be slipping away with age. And Mike is the classic criminal with a haunted past and moral code. In lesser hands, these all become empty cliches. But three standout performances and a sharp script pay character development dividends from the film’s opening minutes.

The supporting cast (featuring Corey Hawkins, Nick Nolte and a quick cameo from Jennifer Jason Leigh) is exceptional as well. Barry Keoghan is electric as a tightly wound hotshot out to move up to big league heists and Monica Barbaro brings sweet tenderness to Maya, who navigates a possible relationship with Mike through caution and curiosity.

Layton’s camera is patient – obviously, with this run time – but never aimless. Everything fuels our understanding of these characters, the city canvas where they operate, and the tension that builds for the looming showdown. Layton’s narrative misdirections are sly and subtle, aided stylistically by some nifty scene transitions and a vibrant, mysterious score from Blanck Mass.

You may recognize other crime thrillers (especially Michael Mann’s Heat) embedded in the film’s DNA, but Crime 101 feels especially in the moment. Since moving from television to features, Layton has shown a persistent interest in exploring the psyche behind audacious crimes.

And so far, he’s batting a thousand.

The Audacity and the Idiocy

American Animals

by Hope Madden

In 2012, director Bart Layton laid down one of the most compelling and nutty documentaries in recent history. His true crime doc The Imposter was one of those rare films that you could not predict nor could you turn away from. It was fascinating, and not just because the story was so wild, but because of Layton’s spry skills as a storyteller.

He’s again pulling from the world of true crime to tell a potent story with his latest, the narrative feature American Animals. The yarn he spins here: four perfectly reasonable, likable, comfortable college kids steal a set of pricey books from Transylvania University’s rare books collection, including Darwin’s original Origins of the Species and Audubon’s Birds of America.

The audacity of the plan itself is reason enough to pay attention. Buddies get the itch to do something big. Something life-changing. Consequences be damned. Or, more rightly, ignored.

Build from there with a truly talented group of young actors: Evan Peters (X-Men’s Quicksilver), Barry Keoghan (Killing of a Sacred Deer, Dunkirk – the kid can do no wrong), Jared Abrahamson (Sweet Virginia, Detour) and Blake Jenner (Everybody Wants Some).

Layton opens with text on screen: This is not based on a true story. The words “not based on” disappear, leaving: This is a true story.

A bold statement to make, and American Animals is as interested in the effect individual perspective plays on true stories as Craig Gillespie’s I, Tonya or Sarah Polley’s near-perfect 2012 documentary, Stories We Tell.

Once again, Layton blends fiction and nonfiction devices to question the possibility of honesty in storytelling. As he weaves from actors recreating the heist to the actual participants telling their versions of events, Layton poses intriguing questions about perspective and truth.

They aren’t questions he answers, though, or even truly explores.

The film works best when it digs into the American preoccupation with unlimited potential, the individual’s specialness. The four young men who risk their futures unnecessarily suffer from that curse of the restlessly entitled.

As you watch the inevitable collapse of a reckless gang of kids’ movie-inspired heist, American Animals suggests depth and introspection but feels more like it’s grasping for a suitable ending, an appropriate way to cap all this madness with a bit of insight.

The problem with the film is the problem with the heist itself: it was fun while it lasted, but was there really a purpose?