This is a strange one. How to Make a Killing feels like it should be the pulpy hit of the year, taking a few great beautiful stars and putting them in an eat the rich thriller. Instead John Patton Ford’s tale finds out this rich eater’s bite is not quite as strong, letting the rich bite back and take a pound of gold flesh with it.
Beckett Redfellow (Glen Powell) is the youngest, most distant heir to the Whitelaw Redfellow (Ed Harris) multi billion dollar estate, born to Mary (Nell Williams) the black sheep essentially kicked out of the family. Beckett is smitten with socialite Julia Steinway (Margaret Qualley), who plants the idea in his head that that the fortune is only a few heads away. Eventually, Beckett loses his patience, and crosses the Rubicon, one by one, in hopes to get what he sees as rightfully his.
John Patton Ford’s last film was the sneaky great Emily the Criminal. How to Make a Killing tries to do something similar, but starts in a strange place. Instead of Emily trying to make a career for herself, Beckett’s life is more stable and all right, starting from a higher level of privilege. But that sucks the life and urgency out of the story, forcing Patton Ford to turn the tale into a farce about vapid rich people. That story only works if you really bring out the venom. But sadly the script doesn’t have it, instead going for broad societal caricatures that are amusing (props to Zach Woods and Topher Grace), but ultimately empty. Not helping is the excessive amount of family members, a few of whom we don’t even really meet except to watch them die, bloating the story longer than it should be. I’ll give How to Make a Killing a little credit for a more daring ending than I was expecting, but at that point it was a tad too little too late.
We’re in “uh-oh” time for Glen Powell. He’s doing the right things: make a movie with the Shaun of the Dead guy, then the Emily the Criminal guy. But just cause Powell wants to make movies with great directors doesn’t mean he’s the right choice for the part. How to Make a Killing is hurt by his presence in my opinion. He’s charming as the narrator yes, but this story would be more believable if this was a shapeshifting actor who could be ugly one minute, pretty the next to show the transformation as Beckett rises the social ladder. Powell is cut from marble, so all his whining about his birthright ring incredibly hollow, which might be the point, but in effect make the movie much more of a slog to get through. Powell’s also a bit of a gravitational force, making the story bend to his presence. Only Bill Camp and Jessica Henwick come out unscathed; everyone tries their best, but they’re mired in caricature hell.
I hope How to Make a Killing is just a resetter for all these talented people. Not all of them can be winners; we bottomed out, hopefully, to rise from the ashes again, with new movies and new casts. Or we just replace Powell with Aubrey Plaza and the same script and see if this movie works better? That’s worth a try I think.