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| Katrina Lenk and Philippa Soo in High Spirits (photo: Joan Marcus) |
Hemsworth & Ruffalo in "Crime 101"
Film: “Crime 101”
Director: Bart Layton
Cast: Chris Hemsworth, Mark Ruffalo, Barry Keoghan, Monica Barbaro, Corey Hawkins, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Nick Nolte, Halle Berry, Tate Donovan
Too many times, crime films try hard to be different while remaining within the genre’s confines. Some directors believe that developing a movie with complicated, even labyrinthine plot points or subplots that don’t necessarily add anything to the story or resolve themselves makes the movie a unique proposition. As written and directed by Bart Layton, “Crime 101” does something similar. Yet by the time the film ends, it pulls together most of the convolutions into something of a satisfying ending.
Certainly, this heist thriller demonstrates the director’s many ambitions. And given its source material — author Don Winslow’s 2020 novella of the same name — it’s no wonder. With Winslow’s experience in the late ‘80s as a private investigator, the author had accumulated lots of great source material which lends his deft novels an authenticity that’s been effectively transferred to film. Screenwriter Eric Roth, who was developing another of Winslow’s books for the screen, gave Robert De Niro the novelist’s book (“I Heard You Paint Houses”) to read for research. The legendary actor became so enthralled with it that he and Scorsese ended up adapting it into a great film, “The Irishman.” Clearly, something authored by Winslow makes for a great starting point.
The film’s twisty, complex storyline connects its parts in surprising ways. Layton takes advantage of a stellar cast to finesse it throughout. Chris Hemsworth, as accomplished thief Mike Davis, plays his character with a combination of sturdiness and anxiousness –– a conundrum that such a career path would likely engender.
The film begins with a scene that establishes what an effective jewel thief Mike has been with his heists taking place along the 101 freeway. Although he has baffled police, Los Angeles detective Lou Lubesnick is undeterred as he pursues the elusive thief by developing a detailed profile of his crimes.
As Mike’s nemesis, Lubesnick (the excellent Mark Ruffalo) tracks him and tries to establish his modus operandi. The scruffy officer (looking something like Columbo) believes he has cracked Mike’s pattern and is determined to bring him down before the next job. He tries to get the other detectives in his division –– like his erstwhile partner, Detective Tillman (Corey Hawkins) –– to join in his efforts. Yet no member of the team really gives him his due, more concerned with arrest numbers rather actual crime solving.
When Davis sets his sights on the ultimate score, his plans intersect with those of Sharon Colvin (Halle Berry who makes a great return to the screen.) She plays a disenchanted insurance broker/adjuster who is cajoled into helping Mike accomplish the score of his life.
But thanks to a betrayal by his fence, Money (Nick Nolte), Mike has the deranged and manic Ormon (actor Barry Keoghan at his most jacked up) on his ass. This young criminal is sent to nip at Mike’s heels and ultimately to eliminate him while hijacking his heist.
The film features not only a top-flight main cast but also a great ensemble of actors who add cinematic depth to the narrative. As Maya, Monica Barbaro (who had played Joan Baez to much acclaim) becomes a tentative love interest for the secretive thief. Jennifer Jason Leigh is Angie, Lou’s ex-wife, who establishes in one scene some important background as to who he is — or isn’t. And there’s Tate Donovan playing billionaire Steven Monroe — the target of the heist.
Into the mix comes the city of Los Angeles as another character to serve the narrative. Ultimately, writer/director Layton made a film where none of the characters have much of a moral compass, except perhaps the thief and the detective pursuing him, though even that is debatable. Because Layton loves his characters almost too much, he allows them much latitude to improve — except for the depraved Ormon.
As the film resolves itself, Layton gives the main characters a pass, maybe because there’s lots of room for a sequel. Or maybe it’s just because he likes what his actors have been able to turn his characters into.
Photo by Jennifer Taylor
At the wonderful Stern Auditorium, on the night of Wednesday, February 4th, I had the privilege to attend an excellent concert—presented by Carnegie Hall—featuring the outstanding MET Orchestra under the peerless direction of Yannick Nézet-Séguin.
The even began auspiciously with a sterling account of the undervalued Negro Folk Symphony of William L. Dawson, the ultimate revision of which was completed in 1952. About the piece, the composer told an interviewer that “the finest compliment that could be paid my symphony … is that it unmistakably is not the work of a white man. I want the audience to say: ‘Only a Negro could have written that.’” The initial movement, titled “The Bond of Africa,” begins with a solemn fanfare—this mood is discernible for longer, but as the movement becomes livelier in tempo, it is overcome by greater levity. In useful notes on the program, Harry Haskell explains:
“The Bond of Africa” opens with a portentous (and very Dvořákian) theme for solo horn that serves as a recurring leitmotif throughout the work; according to the composer, this four-note motto symbolizes the “missing link” that was “taken out of a human chain when the first African was taken from the shores of his native land and sent to slavery.” Contrast is provided by the solo oboe in the form of a perky melody from “Oh, My Little Soul Gwine Shine Like a Star,” the first of three spirituals that Dawson subtly weaves into his symphonic fabric.
The ensuing movement also has a serious ethos, but again lighter, joyful music comes to the fore, although it alternates with much heavier passages and builds to a powerful series of climaxes, and then finishes very quietly. The annotator comments:
The second movement, “Hope in the Night,” is the most explicitly programmatic of the three. In Dawson’s words, the three introductory gong strokes represent “the Trinity, who guides forever the destiny of man,” while the English horn “sings a melody that describes the characteristics, hopes, and longings of a folk held in darkness.” This theme in turn gives way to playful music depicting children who remain blissfully “unmindful of the heavy cadences of despair.”
The last movement is dynamic, even dance-like, with some suspenseful moments and, again, high-spirited interludes, concluding abruptly and triumphantly. Haskell adds:
The finale, based in part on the spiritual “O Le’ Me Shine, Shine Like a Morning Star!,” is notable for its rhythmic vitality and colorful battery of percussion instruments, both elements of the revised score that Dawson created after making his first visit to West Africa in 1952.
The piece was very enthusiastically received by the audience.
The stunningly beautiful and marvelous mezzo-soprano Isabel Leonard then entered the stage—she wore a fabulous, shimmering pink gown—to magnificently perform Samuel Barber’s exquisite Knoxville: Summer of 1915, Op. 24, from 1947, a setting of an autobiographical text in poetic prose by the eminent author James Agee. The composer interestingly said that the work evokes “the child’s feeling of loneliness, wonder, and lack of identity in that marginal world between twilight and sleep.” The first section is nostalgic, while the second is more animated but with a reflective close. The third part recaptures the sensibility of the first although the music intensifies, and in the last section again the lyricism of the opening returns, before it ends gently.
The second half of the evening was also memorable, starting with Leonard’s magical, movingly sung rendition of Leonard Bernstein’s sensational “Somewhere”—with lyrics by Stephen Sondheim—from the landmark 1957 musical, West Side Story. The program concluded with an accomplished version of the same composer’s fine score for the delightful 1944 ballet, Fancy Free—it was brilliantly choreographed by Jerome Robbins—which affords many of the pleasures of his other popular (and populist) music. Bernstein provided this synopsis of the work:
From the moment the action begins, with the sound of a juke box wailing behind the curtain, the ballet is strictly young wartime America, 1944. The curtain rises on a street corner with a lamp post, a side street bar and New York skyscrapers pricked out with a crazy pattern of lights, making a dizzying backdrop. Three sailors explode on the stage. They are on a 24-hour shore leave in the city and on the prowl for girls. The tale of how they first meet one, then a second girl, and how they fight over them, lose them, and in the end take off after still a third, is the story of the ballet.
The artists deservedly were deservedly, ardently applauded.




