Just last December, the CEO of the American health insurance company UnitedHealthcare Brian Thompson was murdered in broad daylight in New York by Luigi Mangione, a disgruntled client who had his claim rejected. Luigi is now under arrest. Gus Van Sant goes back nearly five decades in time in order to tell a story that’s very similar and a lot more dramatic, with a very peculiar and unexpected outcome. Both lawbreakers have been widely celebrated as “folk heroes”. Van Sant raises vital questions about the ethics of vigilantism, and the use of violence as a weapon for social justice. The outcome is a vastly entertaining, enlightening, humbling and provocative movie.
On February 8th 1977, a peaceful Tuesday morning in downtown Indianapolis, Tony Kiritsis (Bill Skarsgård) arrives at the offices of Meridian Mortgages for a meeting with business owner M.L. Hall (Al Pacino). For his disappointment, the powerful man has let him down. He is is enjoying a luxury holiday in Florida with his wife. So Tony meets with his son Dick (Dacre Montgomery) instead. They have some old affairs to discuss. Tony is convinced that the unscrupulous brokers defrauded and left him penniless four years earlier, after they refused to give him extra time for mortgage repayments.
Tony is sprightly and in good spirits. He greets secretary Barb (“she always treated me well”, he exclaims), before locking himself into the office with Dick, pointing a shotgun to his head, and tying the trigger to a wire around his neck. This means that if anyone shot Tony, the weapon would go off and instantly kill Dick. Tony phones the emergency service and explains the entire ordeal in detail to a perplexed telephone agent. The situation quickly escalates. Police cars and television crews surround the building in not time,.
Our protagonist is determined to get his revenge by turning the ordeal into a circus. He forces Dick into a stolen police car and takes him to his small suburban apartment. The police remain unable to interfere, lest a small move causes the wire to ignite the gun and blow Dick’s head off. He demands to talk to the local radio DJ Fred Temple (Colman Domingo), a man for whom he has the most profound respect. And he requires that the mortgage company read out an apology, and that Toni himself is given a platform to explain his version of events both on Fred Temple’s show and then on national television. Tony’s brother, friends and acquaintances – all of whom describe Tony as a reasonable man – attempt to negotiate with him no avail. M. L. is not prepared to offer an apology because he believes that his company acted in accordance with the law. He’s not even prepared to feign regret in order to save his own son’s life. Pacino impersonates ruthlessness to excellent results. His morbidly rich character is genuinely repulsive. You will want to eat him.
While on the wrong side of justice, Tony is clearly on the right side of morality. He is a lone revolutionary. Some sort of 20th-century Guy Fawkes, in charge of a collective catharsis. After all, who has never been duped by the snake oil salesman? Skarsgård’s character combines idealism, resilience and naivety to explosive results. The Swedish actor is irresistibly charming as he discusses music with Dick, and speaks to his hostage’s wife and children on the telephone in order to mitigate their suffering. He keeps reassuring everyone that he’s a gentleman, not a thief. Dick is not as detestable as his father. He’s just a cold and empty human being in a very precarious situation.
Gus Van Sant’s 19th feature film is not necessarily an apologia of vigilantism. Instead, the 73-year-old American director denounces capitalism, exposing the class struggle in a country that dismisses its existence as communist rhetoric. In a way, Dead Man’s Wire is the fourth film in the director’s Death Trilogy – consisting of Gerry (2002), Elephant (2003), and Last Days (2005) – , if a lot less bloody. First and foremost, Dead Man’s Wire is a study of the spetacularisation of violence in cinema and television. Tony is well aware of the power of the media. The television crews are pervasive and invasive. A young reporter is prepared to intrude into any space in order to land a journalistic scoop. The anticipation of Dick’s head being blown off live on television increases the ratings. Van Sant blends vintage television textures into his film in order to create a metatextual element. A few groovy tunes (I think I could just about make out Donna Summer and Burt Bacharach) help to energise the story, without fetishising violence.
The biggest moral dilemma for audiences (and probably for Van Sant himself) is whether to cheer a kidnapper, and to endorse violence in the process. There is no clear answer. Dead Man’s Wire does exactly what a great film should: it leaves you questioning your most noble values and virtues.
Dead Man’s Wire just premiered in the 82nd Venice International Film Festival, when this piece was originally written. The director s being honoured with the Campari Passion for Film Award. Also showing at the Tallinn Black Nights.
