Darren Aronofsky’s Caught Stealing handcuffs Austin Butler to 1998 with mixed results
If you're in the mood for a dumb guy doing dumb things to a Smash Mouth soundtrack, one film this fall has you covered.
Courtesy of Sony Pictures
Overindulgence is the name of the game in Darren Aronofsky’s Caught Stealing, adapted from Charlie Hurston’s novel of the same name. This jam-packed caper will give you whiplash as it ricochets from plot point to plot point—but who cares? Put a collection of attractive actors on the screen, sprinkle in some nostalgia, and it doesn’t really matter what you feed the audience. They’ll enjoy it.
Fortunately, there’s more than enough to gorge on in this dark comedy.
Courtesy of Sony Pictures
Within the first fifteen minutes, you’re drunk on its coolness, much like the high-functioning alcoholic protagonist, Hank Thompson (Austin Butler). His seemingly “smoky” life, shared with his “smoky” semi-girlfriend Yvonne (Zoë Kravitz, who’s forgotten about in the second half of the film), takes a sharp turn after his infamous neighbor Russ (Matt Smith) crosses the pond back home for a family emergency and tasks him with caring for his cat (portrayed by Tonic the Cat).
The Golden State-bred baseball superstar turned grungy, baseball-buff barkeep just can’t seem to escape evil and misfortune. That evil follows him all the way from California and arrives dressed as an all-star medley of actors (Regina King, Bad Bunny, Liev Schreiber, and Griffin Dunne) who embody the, for lack of better words, generic melting-pot shtick of 90s New York.
This ragtag team of criminals treats Butler like the rag-doll role he assumes: stripped of a personality and given propensity, or rather inability, to deal with the cards he’s dealt.
By the film’s end, after sitting on the edge of your seat through its free-radical accoutrements, you’re slapped with the band-aid of a “saltine” button ending. The sinister bubbling that usually rumbles beneath Aronofsky’s films—Black Swan, The Whale, and Mother!—never really sees the light of day.
That undercurrent is kept at bay through many scenes that aren’t long enough to draw any meaning, settling instead for sheer stun effect. It’s a fine enough flick to kill 100 minutes, and at least there’s a mostly naked Austin Butler and more grenades than you might expect. When it hits streaming, it’ll find its audience, as watching this over your phone is probably a more rewarding experience than giving your full attention to a feature that doesn’t seem to want all that attention anyway.
