Riveting Performances Fuel Tense, Draining Thriller in ‘Fair Play’

Riveting Performances Fuel Tense, Draining Thriller in ‘Fair Play’

By Alex McPherson

Powered by enthralling performances from Phoebe Dynevor and Alden Ehrenreich, director Chloe Domont’s “Fair Play” is an effective, if exhausting, thriller exploring gender politics and self-destructive ambition in a corporate world devoid of empathy.

The film follows Emily (Dynevor) and Luke (Ehrenreich), who we first meet on the dance floor of a New York City wedding reception. They sneak away to the bathroom to have sex, and in the middle of it, Luke’s engagement ring falls out of his pocket. Turns out, he was planning on proposing to Emily. She enthusiastically says yes. Luke and Emily are happy, and everything seems nice and dandy — so long as, we soon learn, their shared workplace doesn’t learn about their romance, and Emily’s chatterbox mother doesn’t spill the beans to anyone else. 

Emily and Luke are both stock analysts at the same company, One Crest Capital, where inter-office romance goes against company policy, and sanity goes to die. Analysts work long hours in hopes of ascending the ranks of power, hungering at any opportunity for a promotion by the hand of coldly intimidating Campbell (Eddie Marsan). 

Suited-up workers (mostly men) live and breathe financial jargon; each decision to buy or sell is based on insider information they’ve plugged into with obsessive attention to detail, with plenty of toxicity to spare in their predatory glances and fake-nice banter. They’re opportunistic, skilled at their jobs, and always on the lookout for blood in the water like well-dressed sharks.

After OCC’s “PM” (portfolio manager) is unceremoniously fired — the frustrated sap smashes up his office with a golf club — rumors spread that Campbell is eyeing Luke to take over the role. Luke is thrilled, as is Emily; this is Luke’s big break, an acknowledgement of his hard work and dominance over his peers. Things don’t play out like Luke anticipates, though. Emily gets a late-night call inviting her for drinks with Campbell, who informs her that she’s going to be the new PM. 

Let’s just say, Luke is none too thrilled, despite his performative attempts at congratulating Emily. And thus begins the couple’s downward spiral, as deep-seated insecurities and OCC’s cancerous work culture seeps into their very beings — tearing them apart from the inside out. And we get to see it all for our entertainment.

Indeed, “Fair Play” is a striking, viscerally uncomfortable viewing experience unfolding like a train wreck we’re powerless to stop. With crackling dialogue, committed performances, and nerve-shredding editing, the film is an impressive feature debut from Domont, albeit one whose pedal-to-the-metal approach becomes numbing after a certain point. It’s a feel-bad, socially-aware thriller spiked with cynicism and fatalism.

Alden Ehrenreich as Luke

Gluing all this together are two attention-grabbing performances from Dynevor and Ehrenreich making the whole ordeal even more (intentionally) painful to witness. They’re both beautiful people, given plenty of time to enjoy each other’s bodies and exchange playful banter, but the shadow Emily’s promotion casts over their connection is keenly felt from the moment it’s revealed. Emily and Luke’s subsequent conversations take on a different tone entirely, from passive-aggressive to viciously confrontational.

Dynevor adeptly sells Emily’s hard-working mindset and gradual realization of her crumbling relationship — her efforts to cling to what’s left of her bond with Luke (mostly sex) are stifled by Luke’s unwillingness to reciprocate: it’s the one thing he has power over that he can spitefully refuse her. As Emily weaves between her personas to fit in with the “boy’s club,” her ability to maintain composure slips further and further, erupting in righteous fury in the harrowing third act, as her desperate attempts to hold onto the impossible backfire. 

Through subtle (and not so subtle) body language and dialogue, Dynevor imbues Emily with humanity lacking from the majority of male characters. “Fair Play” doesn’t necessarily endorse Emily’s drastic decisions later on, but she’s depicted as the far more three-dimensional, sympathetic character than Luke ever is. This isn’t necessarily an issue, but Domont’s attempts to be provocative fall somewhat short when Emily’s side of the conflict is so easy to latch onto compared to Luke’s, whose ingrained issues are apparent early on and irreversible.

Luke, by contrast, is a deeply insecure, jealous man schooled on problematic forms of masculinity where any threat to his ego and status hits like a sledgehammer: a sleight against his work-obsessed being that he’s worked hard to cultivate. Ehrenreich is excellent, as always, perpetually looking like a sad puppy behind Emily’s back — rendering Luke’s steep de-evolution into rageful hate all the more believable and chilling, albeit telegraphed early on. The further Emily climbs, the further Luke sinks into bitterness: both sides are unable to extricate their personal lives from their work lives, resulting in alarming sequences brought vividly to life by the actors, who deliver Domont’s acerbic screenplay with fanged precision.

Stylistically, “Fair Play” operates at a high level, too, enhancing the ferocity of the performances. Menno Mans’ cinematography is oppressively constrained, closing in on Emily and Luke as violent tension escalates. While not filmed in New York City, Mans’ camera, combined with jarring sound design (heightening sounds of a screeching metro or speeding cars to cold, uncaring, machinelike effect) beautifully conveys the treacherous world Luke and Emily have brought themselves into. Ominous skyscrapers loom overhead observing their every move. It’s almost like we’re watching a horror film.

By the third act, when things really go off the rails, “Fair Play” can be tough to stomach, and hopelessly pessimistic in its depiction of two characters losing their grasp on reality. But that’s exactly how we’re supposed to feel: stressed and panicked, with no room to breathe until the credits roll and we’re finally removed from this unpleasant conflict. The hysterics can be tiring, yet “Fair Play” is still compulsively watchable from start to finish, with ever-relevant themes that linger.

“Fair Play” is a 2023 drama-thriller written and directed by Chloe Domont starring Phoebe Dynevor, Alden Ehrenreich, and Eddie Marsan

It is rated R for pervasive language, sexual content, some nudity, and sexual violence, and the run time is 1 hour, 53 minutes.

It opened in select theaters Sept. 29 and began streaming on Netflix Oct. 6. Alex’s Grade: B+.

‘Cocaine Bear’ Messy and Thrilling As Chaotic B-Movie

‘Cocaine Bear’ Messy and Thrilling As Chaotic B-Movie

By Alex McPherson
A gnarly B-movie that’s both messy and thrilling, director Elizabeth Banks’ “Cocaine Bear” delivers on the chaotic fun promised by its title.

Set in 1985, the film — inspired from true, albeit far less “entertaining” events — begins with a crazed drug smuggler named Andrew C. Thornton II (Matthew Rhys) dumping a large shipment of blow over the Chattahoochee-Oconee National Forest to be retrieved later. The drugs are soon ingested by an American black bear, who, hyped up on the substance, embarks on a path of destruction, not letting anything get between her and the good-good.

When trying to parachute out of his plane, Andrew knocks himself unconscious on the doorframe and falls to his death in Knoxville, Tennessee. He’s then identified by a local policeman named Bob (Isaiah Whitlock Jr.), who links the drugs to a ruthless St. Louis kingpin named Syd White (Ray Liotta). Syd enlists his depressed son, Eddie (Alden Ehrenreich), who is mourning the loss of his wife, and his tough guy fixer, Daveed (O’Shea Jackson Jr.), to find the cocaine. They’re unaware that Bob’s on the trail, but, more importantly, unprepared for the cuddly carnivore that awaits them.

Meanwhile, the 12 year-old Dee Dee (Brooklyn Prince) and her best friend Henry (Christian Convery) skip school to paint a picture of a waterfall in the forest without telling her mother, Sari (Keri Russell). Before long, they find some bricks of cocaine, eat some of it (as one does), and wander into the vicinity of our titular bear. Sari, who happens to be a nurse, panics and goes out searching for them, accompanied by the raunchy, nonchalant Ranger Liz (Margo Martindale) and her tree-hugging crush, Peter (Jesse Tyler Ferguson), whose love of nature isn’t exactly reciprocated.

As these disparate groups converge, mama bear joins the party, not caring one iota about their petty human affairs — they are prime meat for the slaughter. Indeed, when the bear is unleashed to wreak gratuitously bloody havoc, Banks’ film shines: creature-feature-slasher as tar-black slapstick comedy. The human drama doesn’t hold up in comparison, but “Cocaine Bear” remains briskly paced and wholeheartedly committed to the bit during its 95-minute runtime, while maintaining an earnest streak through the bloodshed that, for all its awkwardness, fits the proceedings like a glove.

As expected, “Cocaine Bear” doesn’t aim for high-minded social commentary (no pun intended), and never takes itself too seriously. Numerous criticisms can be lobbed its way in terms of structure and consistency, but, perhaps, that’s part of the point — the bear triumphs over all. Nearly every other element, no matter how lackluster, sets up scenarios for her to engage in gory goodness. Even though the film can be a scattershot affair, the payoff is always worth it.

By not anthropomorphizing the bear itself, Banks respects it as an animal hooked on a mysterious substance, instantly addicted and empowered with newfound boldness — unpredictable and dangerous, merciless in its pursuits and not to be trifled with by anyone idiotic enough to believe they stand a chance against it. Performed with impressive motion capture by Allan Henry, the bear is a source of both terror and hilarity, with Banks delivering some genuinely suspenseful set-pieces of it creeping up on and misdirecting its prey; priming viewers for some wholly effective jump-scares and viscera-laden carnage amid rustling foliage and sunswept fields.

One scene involving an ambulance is a masterpiece of dark comedy — fear and tension turning into shocked laughter that’s best viewed with a large crowd of like-minded souls. These sequences, thanks to Banks’ unflinching direction, John Guleserian’s dynamic cinematography, and Mark Mothersbaugh’s synth-heavy score, are memorable, and worth the price of admission alone.

What about the humans, though? “Cocaine Bear” doesn’t prioritize “raw emotion” in their respective arcs, but the ensemble capably shoulders the absurdity. Whitlock Jr. brings his characteristic deadpan dignity to policeman Bob, remaining cool and collected through his exasperation and increasing peril. With a small dog waiting for him at home, we’re rooting for him to make it out alive. Martindale and Ferguson are exceptional — essentially cartoon characters who, for what they lack in groundedness, make up for in charm. Russell convincingly brings out her own “mama bear” side to rescue Dee Dee, while Prince and Convery are hilarious as two rebellious youngsters in way over their heads who aren’t quite as brain-dead as viewers might initially expect. Ehrenreich and Jackson Jr. do what they can, but aren’t nearly as successful with standard archetypes bonding through their trauma bond and finally learning some self-respect. Liotta amusingly hams it up  as the real villain of the piece, rather one-note but enjoyable to watch nevertheless.

Even though “Cocaine Bear” is, well, “Cocaine Bear,” there’s some environmentalist themes that rear their heads, principally the importance of respecting the natural world. Like the shipment of cocaine that’s carelessly dropped into the wilderness, this batch of characters with wildly different life experiences are gathered within a space they don’t belong— encountering a drug-fueled apex predator ready to punish them for their intrusion. Whether or not they deserve their fates, the bear (as it mauls, stalks, and does lines of cocaine off severed limbs) is an equalizing force that removes preconceptions and shifts the humans’ focus to pure survival and self-preservation, at least if they’re smart enough to recognize it. The animal also illuminates their true values. But none of this really matters — it’s just appealing to watch a coked-up bear causing complete and utter chaos. 

Admittedly, there is too much going on plot-wise for “Cocaine Bear” to be as focused and satisfying as it should be. The film’s editing is occasionally clunky, with intermittently awkward transitions that break immersion. Similarly, the film’s jokes are hit-or-miss, with the general vibe representative of “there’s a bear on cocaine, oh no!” and punchlines via over-the-top violence. Cheesiness abounds, which fits with the film’s goofy, 80s-throwback style, but lacks emotional heft. The script’s brand of broad, gross-out humor won’t work for those who don’t find the concept giggle-worthy, or who are easily perturbed by excess gut spillage. 

Fortunately, for this viewer, “Cocaine Bear” is properly filling, meeting expectations and having (slightly) more to unpack than being merely a slasher flick. This is Cocaine Bear’s domain, and we’re just existing in it.

“Cocaine Bear” is a 2023 comedy-thriller directed by Elizabeth Banks and starring Keri Russell, Matthew Rhys, O’Shea Jackson Jr., Alden Ehrenreich, Ray Liotta, Brooklynn Prince, Christian Convery, Isiah Whitlock Jr., Jesse Tyler Ferguson and Margo Martindale. It is Rated R for bloody violence and gore, drug content and language throughout and the run time is 1 hour, 35 minutes. I opened in theaters Feb. 24. Alex’s Grade: B