Here is a thriller that understands restraint. No lore, no multiverse, no cousin with a secret. Just one bad night, three people who all think they’re the protagonist, and a director confident enough to let silence do the heavy lifting.
“The best scene in this movie is forty seconds of a man deciding whether to answer a phone. I was not breathing.”
Is it minor? Sure. But minor and disciplined beats major and bloated every night of the week, and I’ve got a certain robot epic in mind as I say that.
“Restraint,” he says. There is a difference between restraint and having nothing to say, and this film sits on that difference for one hundred and twelve minutes with the parking brake on.
“A thriller should thrill. This one politely suggests.”
I’ll grant the phone scene. It’s good. It is also the only scene, which is why Matt keeps describing it instead of the movie. A thumb doesn’t go up for forty seconds of quality. That’s not a film, that’s a trailer with commitment issues.