THE STORY – The morning of February 8, 1977, Anthony G. “Tony” Kiritsis, 44, entered the office of Richard O. Hall, president of the Meridian Mortgage Company, and took him hostage with a sawed-off 12-gauge shotgun wired with a “dead man’s wire” from the trigger to the Hall’s head. This is the true story of the stand-off that took the world by storm as Tony demanded $5 million, no charges or prosecution, and a personal apology from the Halls for cheating him out of what he was “owed.”
THE CAST – Bill Skarsgård, Dacre Montgomery, Colman Domingo, Al Pacino & Cary Elwes Myha’la
THE TEAM – Gus Van Sant (Director) & Austin Kolodney (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 105 Minutes
It’s very clear what type of movie “Dead Man’s Wire” aspires to be. Everything about it, from the overwhelming throwback designs to the music choices (hell, even the casting of Al Pacino in a supporting role), indicates that director Gus Van Sant intends to pay homage to ’70s crime thrillers. It’s understandable why – who doesn’t love those movies? Their cynical, down-to-earth energy and no-nonsense characters are almost always compelling. And while there are certainly entertaining moments throughout, Van Sant’s interpretation of this forgotten true crime story is simply not as exciting as it should be – and clearly wants to be.
Opening on a chilly Indianapolis winter morning in 1977, the film begins with Tony Kiritsis (Bill Skarsgård), a clearly agitated and suspicious-looking man. He starts his day by entering a bank, with one arm in a sling and the other carrying a long package. There, he asks for a meeting with Richard Hall (Dacre Montgomery), a higher-up at the financial institution, which is owned by his father (Al Pacino). After getting himself behind closed doors with Richard, Tony makes the true reason for his visit clear. He pulls out a shotgun and a wire, promptly loops the wire around Richard’s neck, laces it around the shotgun’s trigger, and wraps the other end of the titular “dead man’s wire” around his own neck. He then firmly plants the business end of the gun in the back of Richard’s neck, where it will remain for the majority of the film to follow.
Tony quickly makes his intentions and motivation clear: after having purchased a large plot of land with the hopes of renting out the property for a shopping center, he believes that the bank screwed him over in totally legal but unkind (if not unethical) ways, leading to the collapse of his get-rich scheme. As retribution, Tony wants a handful of reparational items, including a lump sum, debt forgiveness, legal immunity, and a formal apology from Richard’s father. After moving out of the bank, past cops on standby and eager reporters, the unlikely duo heads to Tony’s apartment, which has been rigged with explosives as a backup. Then begins a waiting process that Tony hopes will end in his favor (and Richard hopes it will end with his head still attached to his shoulders).
As usual, Skarsgård is exceptional. Tony is clearly not a smart man, although he fancies himself one. It’s easy to play stupid, but it’s not so simple to play a foolish person who believes themselves intelligent. It requires never betraying the limited capabilities of the character’s thinking, and Skarsgård makes this clear. The would-be charming way in which he tosses off half-confident idioms makes it apparent that Tony has modeled himself after wise-cracking, smooth-talking criminals, although he doesn’t have the charisma necessary to pull this off successfully. He also manages to be both scary and, while he tries to hide it, scared; his constant effortful swearing makes it clear that he’s nervous.. Skarsgård manages to play all of this with full intention, making every choice feel natural but deliberate.
Montgomery is similarly effortless in his hostage role. He obviously knows the potential volatility of his captor and manages to keep a level head throughout the film, without his performance feeling underplayed. It’s a purposefully exhausted performance that remains a magnetic equal to Skarsgård’s. Colman Domingo is a charming, warm presence as a local radio DJ whom Tony has great affection for. And Pacino, surprise surprise, is a total hoot. From his first minute of screentime, where he rebuffs a poolside waiter, his excessively broad Southern accent and goofy line deliveries prove to be riotously entertaining.
The film is simply drowning in 1970s aesthetics. We spend most of our time in Tony’s apartment, which, as befitting the period it depicts, is mostly browns, greens, and yellows. The costumes are also appropriately earthy, with the sweat stains on Richard’s period-correct long collar helping to mark the passing time as the hostage crisis drags on. Van Sant also has fun switching between different film and video stocks, with the unnervingly high frame rate of the news cameras giving the film a sense of urgency and period accuracy. Black and white photos also help to make the film feel like a realistic recounting of a newsworthy story. And the shaky handheld camera calls to mind the 1970s films it’s drawing inspiration from and ramps up the uncertain tension.
This tension is less present in the screenplay. In places where stress should be at its highest, such as when a man is dragging another man at gunpoint around snowy city streets, it just never feels as thrilling as it should. And the long stretch of time set in Tony’s apartment starts to feel interminable. Only the final few minutes of the actual hostage situation feel truly dangerous and uncertain. Van Sant smartly cuts between multiple vantage points and perspectives in this moment, making the potential for disaster feel all the more real, and even scarier, inevitable.
True crime junkies are sure to enjoy “Dead Man’s Wire,” particularly its tense conclusion and perversely hilarious, “truth is stranger than fiction” coda. The wintry ’70s setting makes it a curious inverse of the sweltering bank robbery of “Dog Day Afternoon,” the type of film it clearly wants to be but doesn’t quite measure up to.
