De-escalation is the prevailing theme surrounding Jeremy Saulnier’s Rebel Ridge (2024), which is a form of inversion to most of Saulnier’s works. In Blue Ruin (2013) and Green Room (2015), the escalation of violence is the driving momentum that pits his characters into dangerous situations where chaos continuously builds on itself. His characters often lack the foresight and self-awareness to act meticulously and carefully, leading to life-and-death decisions. His films deploy violence as a reactionary form of self-preservation.
The idea of his latest effort being an inversion sounds conflicting and could make for an unsuccessful thriller. Thankfully, Saulnier’s screenplay toys with audience expectations and plays into (and against) the types of action thrillers that have come before Rebel Ridge. Starring Aaron Pierre and Don Johnson, the film is one of the best surprises of the year, expertly crafted and filled with palpable tension and expert performances. Pierre has arrived as a new cinematic badass capable of inflicting ruthless violence, even if he chooses not to. It’s strange when we’re so used to heroes proving how tough and formidable they are, yet the most intense scenes in Ridge are when Terry (Pierre) de-escalates dangerous situations to his benefit. His mind and body are one weapon.
In the scenic backwoods of a small Louisiana town, Terry is knocked over by a police cruiser. Already the situation looks uneasy. Terry, a Black man, is interrogated by two dubious white officers, Lann (Emory Cohen) and Marston (David Denman), as to his intentions for cycling and ignoring the officer’s siren. It turns out Terry is carrying $36,000 in cash to bail out his cousin for a misdemeanor charge before he’s transferred to a hardened security facility. The cops seize his money through a legal maneuver called civil asset forfeiture, and he’s let off with a warning.
This instance begins an escalation of masterful tension by Saulnier and Pierre’s breakout star performance, as he can’t accept his money being seized. Terry won’t be deterred easily; he needs that money and finds an ally in a young court clerk, Summer McBride (AnnaSophia Robb), to help him pierce through an impenetrable legal system. Together, they uncover widened corruption in law enforcement wherein cops seize peoples’ assets through illegal misdemeanor charges and hoard them for liquid cash.
That description sounds antithetical to the type of genre exercise Saulnier has delved into in the past; it’s also the most exciting angle of this action thriller. Criminals are not caricatures of racist southern cops or the draconian police department from First Blood (1982), but rather the financial deficit departments that resort to legal loopholes to benefit themselves at the expense of the most vulnerable. The most intense moments of the film are not the sudden bursts of violence but heated, intelligent one-on-one exchanges between Terry and the police force.
The best scene happens when Terry has finally had it and visits Chief Sandy Burnne (Johnson) outside his station. Sandy learns Terry is a former marine but has never seen combat. This underestimation allows Terry to upend Sandy’s and the viewer’s expectations as he details his experience as a Marine Martial Arts trainer with a specialty for de-escalating situations. (This scene is intercut with a hilarious bit of a desk clerk learning Terry has a Wikipedia page–that’s when you know it’s serious.) It’s not long before Sandy and his deputies realize they’re at odds with a man determined to get what is rightfully his.
That’s just the first half of the film. Where it goes next is unexpected and part of what makes this one of the best surprises of the year. The blunt violence of Saulnier’s previous films is replaced by mounting pressure and palpable tension that surrounds the frame of Terry’s philosophical battle with a corrupt force. Terry, a man capable of killing anyone he meets yet opting for a calm but forceful dominance, opts for self-restraint to control the situation with many contingencies.
Saulnier’s inverse is compelling and opens a rich avenue of character and narrative instead of mindless action that would plague this film in the hands of a lesser director. For all the shady and illegal actions Sandy executes, he is not a one-dimensional villain. Once he realizes who Terry is, he practices a form of de-escalation and lets bygones be. It’s a smart strategy to add layers to characters that could be thinly conceived. From there on, the escalation of how much Terry is willing to let go before he makes it his problem to solve is the lovely twist of the reluctant hero. Saulnier’s heroes were fringe types that dwelled in precarious situations, unintentionally sinking deeper into chaos without proper foresight or awareness of their actions.
Pierre exudes a level of movie stardom that is refreshing. His tall and towering stature and fit physique lend to his physicality in the action set pieces, but it’s his steely eyes and controlled face that imbue the film with a sense of unpredictability. Watching Terry’s calm demeanor explode into quick, expertly performed martial arts movements is an exhilaratingly different type of action hero archetype. It’s a star-making turn for Pierre; his quiet determination is the lynchpin that sustains the film’s momentum.
Johnson has never been better, perfectly chewing into the role of an overzealous small-town sheriff who slowly learns his asset-seizing empire is about to crumble. His performance is rooted in self-preservation, mitigating a problem with his continued and casual policing of minor offenses. Johnson doesn’t go over the top or play it like a natural heavy. Instead, he finds a middle ground, coming across as an authoritarian who is only a piece of a bigger system at play. Robb, meanwhile, is an excellent foil for Pierre, an ineffectual law clerk who becomes wrapped in Terry’s simple quest to free his cousin. She understands the purposefully difficult bureaucratic red tape that exists to deter people like Terry from continuing. Her character is innocent, as she has a history of drug usage and can’t risk jeopardizing her custody of her child, and her self-righteousness leads her to team with Terry because she can’t turn a blind eye to blatant legal abuse.
Saulnier’s filmmaking is just as sharp as his commentary, with long unbroken takes allowing action and movement to happen without calling attention to itself. The bright greens of the Louisiana backwoods compliment the gray area that Terry and Summer find themselves with each revelation. The cinematography from David Gallego places heavy emphasis on the conversations of characters in intense close-ups and medium shots, instilling a prevailing dread close to exploding with a single wrong sentence or action. The energy is tangible with an intense vigor.
Recent acclaimed action films have been remarked for feeling grounded and realistic. Saulnier isn’t interested in one-upping the likes of Chad Stahelski or Gareth Evans, instead, he approaches this small-scaled thriller through an intelligent lens reminiscent of Tony Gilroy. Even by the end when Terry is surrounded by an arsenal of weapons to choose from, his character isn’t compromised by the circumstances he’s placed in. He finds different solutions and thinks his way out without resorting to violence.
That may sound dull for those looking for immediate gratification. The ending leaves things a bit too clean, especially considering the chaos in the climax. It leaves a sense of dissatisfaction. But satisfaction is derived from a competent leading man maintaining the high ground while never diminishing his capabilities. The sustained tension of how each decision will determine the next outcome of events is anything but dull.
Saulnier crafts one of the most thrilling high-octane action thrillers that will be sadly relegated to the endless titles on Netflix’s streaming service. Rebel Ridge is a wonderful way to end the summer plagued by sequels, spin-offs, and I.P. nostalgia plays. It looks, feels, and sounds like a real film.
Review Courtesy of Amritpal Rai
Images Courtesy of AP News, Credit to Netflix & Allyson Riggs