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DEVIL’S PEAK

Producers: Griff Furst, Josh Kesselman, Robert Knott, Robin Wright, Jamie Hilton, Ryan Donnell Smith, Nathan Klingher, Ryan Winterstern and Sterling Griffin   Director: Ben Young   Screenplay: Robert Knott   Cast: Billy Bob Thornton, Hopper Penn, Katelyn Nacon, Brian D’Arcy James, Emma Booth, Jackie Earle Haley, Robin Wright, David Kallaway, Jared Bankens, Mark Ashworth and Harrison Gilbertson   Distributor: Screen Media

Grade: D+

The peak is more of a molehill in this backwoods crime-family melodrama, which was shot in Georgia but is set in North Carolina (as a license plate thrust into the forefront of one shot informs us, as if the mention of “Jackson County, North Carolina” by characters several times weren’t enough).  Adapted by actor Robert Knott from the well-regarded 2015 debut novel “Where All Light Tends to Go” by David Joy, it’s a gloomy tale of an ultimately fatal conflict between Charlie McNeely (Billy Bob Thornton), who runs a meth distribution ring, and his son Jacob (Hopper Penn), who longs to escape the business, and his dad’s malign influence, with the love of his life Maggie (Katelyn Nacon), the stepdaughter of the ambitious local politician (Brian D’Arcy James) who’s scheming to put Charlie out of business.

The family dysfunction extends to Jacob’s mother Virgie (Robin Wright), a dissolute drug addict whom Charlie has long since discarded and left to her addiction and, apparently, prostitution.  Jacob visits her in her run-down rustic home on occasion, while showing his disgust with his father’s having replaced her with sexpot Josie (Emma Booth) instead.  Charlie also maintains a relationship of convenience with Rogers (Jackie Earle Haley), the local sheriff and a seemingly level-headed sort who tries to keep things reasonably calm while skimming some cash off the meth trade for himself.  

But the lawman’s attempt proves none too successful, as the landscape is littered with corpses before the film comes to an end; it will come as no surprise who escapes with their lives.   One of the qualities of the movie—not necessarily a virtue, but certainly an accomplishment—is the utterly depressing atmosphere production designer Lauren Crasco and cinematographer Michael McDermott create.  The images they’ve fashioned will certainly convince you that Jackson County is a place you’ll never want to visit.

You’d never want to meet the characters, either.  Charlie is an utterly ruthless fellow, who won’t hesitate to deal summarily with underlings he suspects of cheating him, and anyone else too; it’s not at all surprising that when Virgie dies of a gunshot wound, Jacob assumes that his father is responsible.  But it is surprising that Thornton is relatively restrained in expressing the guy’s malevolence; though he certainly snaps out lines when appropriate, he doesn’t chew the scenery as enthusiastically as you might expect. 

Thornton’s reluctance to go full throttle is perhaps explained by the pallidness of Penn, the son of Wright and Sean Penn, who evinces little screen presence and even less dramatic intensity.  Wright, on the other hand, is quite persuasive as a woman who’s the antithesis of the elegance the actress is better known for (see, for instance, her Claire Underwood).  Haley, like Thornton, underplays here, at least until the final reel, when he lets loose—a contrast to Harrison Gilbertson, who makes Rogers’ deputy Bull the sort of preening thug that gives law enforcement a bad name.  It’s a portrayal to make the audience long for him to get his comeuppance—which, of course, he does.  The rest of the supporting cast ranges from the over-the-top James and Booth to mousy Nacon, whose Maggie is as bland as her beau Jacob.  (Needless to say, there’s zero chemistry between the two; you have to take their passion on faith.)

Much of what’s wrong with “Devil’s Peak” results from the prosaic direction of Ben Young, who fails to bring any sense of excitement even to a car chase in the last reel and a shoot-out that follows, and Merlin Eden’s soporific editing, which further leeches any energy from the narrative. The movie is also weighed down by some clumsy attempts at symbolism–what could anyone do with Virgie’s early complaint about a light bulb going out, only to have the camera pan up to a broken light bulb on the ceiling when her body is later discovered? Or with her remark that she interprets a painting of a horseman as a man looking to ride off to death (naturally, that painting becomes the focus of an ending in which corpses are strewn around the property)?

Adam Spark’s score adds some pleasantly rustic twang to the proceedings; a few folkish songs are also included in the soundtrack.  But the laid-back music does little to increase the intensity level in what, after all, is supposed to be a tense thriller.

But in reality “Devil’s Peak” is less a thriller than a brooding tale of domestic dysfunction in a small-time crime family that’s unlikely to raise your pulse rate or give you an adrenaline rush.  It winds up like a drab theatrical version of “Justified,” concentrating on the low-class crooks without the heroic lawman.    

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ON THE LINE

Producers: Romuald Boulanger, Marc Frydman and Robert Ogden Barnum   Director: Romuald Boulanger   Screenplay: Romuald Boulanger   Cast: Mel Gibson, William Moseley, Alia Seror-O’Neill, Paul Spera, Nadia Farès, Enrique Arce, Kevin Dillon, Yoli Fuller, Ravin J. Ganatra, John Robinson, Avant Strangel, Yann Bean, Nancy Tate, Carole Weyers, Robbie Nock and Romy Pointet   Distributor: Saban Films

Grade: D+

Not long ago, Mel Gibson and Kevin Dillon co-starred in “Hot Seat,” a nonsensical thriller about an ex-hacker turned menial IT guy who’s forced use his old skills to transfer stolen money to the account of a villain who’s put a bomb under his chair to ensure his compliance; Dillon was the trapped guy and Gibson the bomb squad veteran who tried to defuse the explosive. 

In “On the Line,” Gibson assumes the role of victim, playing Elvis Cooney, a crass, insulting all-night talk radio host, prone to cruel practical jokes, who gets a call on air from a crazed man who threatens to kill Cooney’s kidnapped wife Olivia (Nancy Tate) and daughter Adria (Romy Pointet)—and blow up the skyscraper in which the studio is housed—unless the shock jock does exactly what he’s told, which might just include killing himself.  Dillon has a relatively minor role here as Justin, the guy who hosts the prime-time slot he thinks Elvis craves.

The claustrophobic feel of “Hot Seat” is also a main feature of Romuald Boulanger’s picture (which, though set in the Los Angeles, was made in France, with a polyglot cast and a swarm of varying accents).  We first see Clooney at home with his loving family, showering affection on little Adria.  But by the time he parks his Mustang at the studio he’s turned into Mr. Gruff, treating the security attendant Bob (Ravin J. Ganatra) with disdain, even as he sends a nutbag named Noah (John Robinson), who arrives claiming to be Jesus and threatening to kill them both, packing by telling him TV would be a better vehicle for his message.

Making his way to the broadcast booth upstairs, Elvis has a run in with Justin and an argument with the station manager (Nadia Farès) over declining ratings before getting down to work with his producer Mary (Alia Seror-O’Neill) and new engineer Dylan (William Moseley), fielding calls.  It’s not long before Gary (Paul Spera) is on the line with his threats, which he says are righteous vengeance for an affair Elvis had with his one-time girlfriend, who committed suicide after he broke it off.

The scenario turns into a convoluted cat-and-mouse game when Clooney learns that Gary and the hostages are in the building, which Gary has wired with explosives after killing Bob.  He and Dylan are soon stalking the hallways, trying to locate his family and save the day.  Police are introduced—a patrolman whose intervention might ruin their chances, a bomb squad expert whose efforts to help have the reverse effect—as well as explosive vests and a hand-held detonator.  You get the gist.

Thus far the movie has generated some modest tension despite the goofiness of the initial premise and the increasingly risible complications Boulanger adds to it.  But just as the plot reaches its apparent climax, it upends all that has gone before with not one but two twists so totally ludicrous that they provoke more anger than satisfaction.  The movie wants to become “The Usual Suspects” and fails miserably.

It’s not Gibson’s fault: he huffs and puffs through his role with an intensity he manages in about half the pictures he makes now, though he can never make Clooney credible.  The rest of the cast goes through the motions, with only Moseley standing out—except for Dillon, who as usual nowadays, stands out for all the wrong reasons.  The technical side of things—production design (Emmanuel Réveillière), cinematography (Xavier Castro), and editing (Pierre-Marie Croquet)—is adequate enough, even if darkness dominates the cramped images and things could move along more crisply.  Clément Perin’s score strives to add excitement, but can’t overcome the sporadic directorial flabbiness.

Most viewers might be willing to shrug off “On the Line” as a mere mediocrity until the final twenty minutes.  After them, though, they might feel like throwing things at the screen. There are a couple of points where the movie makes a couple of jokes at its own expense. A character remarks, for example, that what they’re going through would make a great movie–and another says that it needs a rewrite. Elsewhere, Elvis asks “What kind of D-grade movie BS is this?” In retrospect these seem less like jokes than valid observations.