Predatory loans and misrepresented mortgage terms have been with us in our society for far too long. In 1977, Tony Kiritsis, a small-time real estate developer in Indianapolis, snapped after learning that his bank intended to foreclose on his land, even though he had kept up with interest payments, through a loan deal he believed had been rigged from the start. He turned his anger on Richard Hall, the young loan officer who had signed off on the mortgage and was also the son of Meridian’s president, Meredith Hall. For Kiritsis, Richard was both the convenient hostage and the embodiment of the family and company he believed had conspired to steal his property. So he wired him to a shotgun in a 63-hour standoff that unfolded live across radio and television.
Director Gus Van Sant’s first feature in six years dramatizes this event after an earlier iteration involving Werner Herzog and Nicolas Cage never materialized. It was a fast production with a rapid turnaround, barely a year after Van Sant was first approached by the producer, who had seen him in a restaurant and referred to it as a sign from God. Set firmly in the 70s, the film borrows the textures of that era, especially Dog Day Afternoon, duplicating period television grain, leaning on grim zooms, close-quarters blocking, and ensemble cutaways. Van Sant even casts Al Pacino in a role designed as the mirror opposite of his Dog Day Afternoon character. The emulation is convincing, with the costumes, hairstyles, and specific performances, especially Colman Domingo’s, making it easy to believe you are watching a film straight out of the 70s.
Those sensibilities are mixed with modern tendencies that undercut the film’s tension. The first act moves too quickly, laying out its moral ground almost immediately. By the half-hour mark, we already know where the movie stands, leaving little room for the kind of unfolding complexity that contrasts with the 70s’ more patient storytelling approach, which made Dog Day Afternoon so gripping. The editing is efficient and shifts smoothly between characters, locations, and events, but it rarely builds suspense as well as the best entries in the genre do. A second weakness comes when the acting does not match the naturalistic tone the film demanded. Bill Skarsgård, in particular, leans into a theatrical register instead of pursuing a more volatile, lived-in portrayal.
Yet the film shines in its smaller moments. Nearly every scene with Pacino is outstanding, offering the fascinating angle of a man complicit in the story calmly watching it play out on television. His commentary on seeing Kiritsis cry on TV, compared to his own son, is especially sharp. Domingo also leaves a strong impression as a laid-back DJ based on real-life broadcaster Fred Heckman. He brings an unjudging steadiness that turns his exchanges with Kiritsis into some of the most compelling passages in the film.
Van Sant sprinkles in stylistic flourishes, from freeze-frames that evoke archival photos to muted colors that capture the atmosphere, and bursts of dark humor that land surprisingly well. Not all experiments succeed, such as a misjudged nightmare sequence, but the film remains an effective throwback to the thrillers of the 70s. At times it feels so committed to emulation that it struggles to assert its own identity, but it still works as an entertaining homage to a style of cinema that remains resonant, and to a story about financial despair that is sadly still relevant today.
This is part of Reviews On Reels TIFF 2025 Coverage. Due to the hectic rhythm of a film festival, it may be tweaked in the future.
Still courtesy of TIFF.