Dead Man’s Wire: A Relentless 1970s Hostage Thriller Reviewed

There’s a particular unease that settles in while watching a man attach a sawed-off shotgun to another’s neck, and Dead Man’s Wire leans into this discomfort with remarkable assurance. Gus Van Sant manages to maintain a level of raw, almost animalistic tension for nearly two hours—a feat that would leave most films floundering after a few scenes. Drawing from the real-life events surrounding Tony Kiritsis and the 1977 Indianapolis hostage incident, the film delivers a gripping, visually arresting, and unexpectedly empathetic exploration of a man at the end of his tether.

Unravelling Chaos: The Story and Its Setting

The narrative is as extraordinary as it is grounded, rooting its chaos in a moment of genuine desperation. Bill Skarsgård takes on the role of Kiritsis, a man driven to extremes after being cheated in a property deal. He storms into a mortgage office, seizes Richard Hall (played by Dacre Montgomery) as a hostage, and ingeniously wires a shotgun to Hall’s neck. Should the police intervene, the mechanism ensures a fatal outcome for the captive. While the premise might sound outlandish, Van Sant embraces the bizarre reality, never shying away from its absurdity.

The result is a film brimming with style and frenetic energy, capturing the gritty spirit of the late 1970s with a fresh, dangerous edge. The period backdrop is more than mere decoration; it provides a tactile sense of analogue desperation. The pacing is relentless, echoing the protagonist’s deteriorating mental state, and marks a bold stylistic shift for Van Sant that pays dividends.

Performances on a Knife-Edge

Skarsgård’s portrayal is nothing short of electrifying, radiating a barely contained mania. He embodies a man teetering on the brink, terrifying in his outbursts yet revealing glimpses of vulnerability beneath the bravado. There’s a surprising warmth and wit to his performance, making Kiritsis oddly likeable despite his actions. The audience is drawn into his frustration, finding themselves rooting for a figure who straddles the line between criminal and folk hero.

Dacre Montgomery, meanwhile, spends much of the film physically constrained, yet manages to convey a spectrum of fear and resignation through subtle expressions. The dynamic between captor and captive evolves from sheer terror to an uneasy camaraderie, lending authenticity to the film’s offbeat scenario.

Visuals, Sound, and Supporting Cast

Visually, Dead Man’s Wire is a treat, employing a blend of media and camera techniques to keep viewers unsettled. Van Sant’s use of montage and varied cinematography evokes the era without descending into nostalgia. The film is unpolished where necessary, yet maintains a sleek finish that ensures the pace never falters.

The tension is unyielding, a remarkable achievement given the confined settings—cars, flats, and offices—where much of the action unfolds. Danny Elfman’s score amplifies the anxiety, mirroring Tony’s frantic energy and adding another layer of intensity.

The ensemble cast is impressive, with Colman Domingo lending gravitas as Fred Temple, the measured police negotiator. Myha’la’s Linda Page is effective, though her role feels somewhat underdeveloped. Cary Elwes delivers a memorable turn as a police officer, balancing menace and reliability. Al Pacino, as Richard’s father M.L. Hall, brings his trademark weight to the role, though the father-son relationship could have benefited from a touch more depth.

Style and Substance in a True-Crime Tale

Dead Man’s Wire stands out as a masterclass in tension and visual flair. Transforming a bleak true-crime episode into a charged piece of cinema, the film challenges perceptions of villainy and heroism. With Skarsgård at his best and Van Sant in top form, it’s a work that commands attention from start to finish.