Rebel Ridge

Director and screenwriter Jeremy Saulnier has an uncanny ability, like Mel Gibson, Tarantino or even S. Craig Zahler, to use graphic violence in its rawest form as a kind of catalyst for his storytelling. The violence itself, naked, raw and dark - becomes in his best two films a character in itself and something that he uses to drive the narrative rather than as sprinkles in scenes that are already dramaturgically well established. I love this. I have a huge soft spot for his breakthrough film Blue Ruin, and I'm ridiculously fond of the ever-overlooked and so brutally atmospheric, dense and unnervingly raw Green Room. Saulnier is phenomenal.

It is, however, a real miracle that his latest film Rebel Ridge even happened. Filming began four (!) years ago with a red-hot, Star Wars-acting John Boyega in the lead role as the coldly rational but deadly spec ops operative Terry. After three weeks of shooting, Boyega left the production, his management blaming 'family issues' while rumours swirled of an anti-creative hellhole of a film where no part of the script worked and Netflix's interference constantly disrupted the creative process. Filming was shut down. Everyone went home. Covid struck. Two years later, Saulnier had found a replacement in The Underground Railroad star Aaron Pierre and now... Four long years later, it's finally time for Rebel Ridge.

The script is (as in the case of Blue Ruin and Green Room) written by Saulnier himself. Rebel Ridge is described as a dark and dense story of morality and corruption. The story revolves around the mysterious Terry, who turns up on the outskirts of an unnamed village on his old bicycle, determined to bail out his imprisoned cousin on a petty drug offence with his piggy bank. However, it is not long before the village's corrupt (and corpulent) police force gets wind of his presence and launches an unprecedented terror train to seize the cash he has with him in his backpack.

Basically, Rebel Ridge is the same film as The Rock's Walking Tall or some kind of kid-friendly, TV-scented Bolibompa version of First Blood. Methodical, calculating but super dangerous ex-military wanders into small town, encounters rogue cops and is pushed to his limit where excessive violence and swearing takes over. The premise we have seen 2000 times before and already during the very first scene of the film's intro it is easy as pie to figure out exactly what will happen, how and when. Rebel Ridge is Saulnier's 'film-for-dummies'. Thematically flat, structurally flimsy, predictably bland and just plain boring.

Saulnier's patented darkness, his ability to portray violence the way he does in both Blue Ruin and Green Room is completely missing in Rebel Ridge. There is none of what makes his earlier films so good here. Every scene (minus one at the end) takes place in ugly daylight photography, the mystery surrounding Terry and his background just feels misplaced and annoying, and the corrupt crooked cops are so aimlessly stupid and free of all logic and self-preservation. Netflix's 11-year age limit has also meant that there is virtually no real violence here, which makes the more fast-paced scenes more reminiscent of something out of CSI: Las Vegas. Terry's arm-lock on Sheriff Sandy (Don Johnson) moves so slowly that it looks like poorly filmed rehearsals, and the very few bullets that are fired have been immortalised in a way that makes Rebel Ridge look like something out of Dallas.

The streak of bad films that Netflix has produced over the past two years will go down in history. Talented directors with big budgets spit out a film or films that all sniff at our lowest ratings and each production gives the feeling that Netflix often 'settles' for the quality feel of a really dull TV series episode. There is no punch here, no character, tension, nerve or any pace that makes me want to keep watching. Stupid characters, stupid dialogue, stupid logic, ugly cinematography, and limp action make Rebel Ridge another in a long line of Netflix disappointments. Saulnier is capable of so much more than this.