Gus Van Sant’s latest holds you hostage. You’re stuck right by Tony Kiritsis (Bill Skarsgård), who on February 8 1977 strolled up to the offices of his mortgage broker, the Meridian Mortgage company, and wrapped a thin wire around the neck of the owner’s son, Richard Hall (Dacre Montgomery). One jerk, one stumble, one dash for freedom – the wire would pull, the shotgun attached to the other end would fire, and Richard’s head would be blown to smithereens. It’s a contraption called the “dead man’s wire”, which also lends the film its title.
Yet, what feels claustrophobic about Dead Man’s Wire is less its imminent threat (if you don’t know how the real-life tale ended), but the audience’s proximity to Tony, who possesses Skarsgård’s globe-sized eyeballs, to which the actor’s added a twitchy intensity, a moustache, and a fringe that looks as if it’s been hacked with shears. He’s as volatile as his contraption, but so insistent on being heard that there’s no choice but to listen.
