Why do I keep thinking that Steven Soderbergh‘s No Sudden Move (HBO Max, 7.1) is called One False Move? The latter is a title of a 1992 Carl Franklin thriller that starred Billy Bob Thornton. (The late Gene Siskel reportedly called Franklin’s film his favorite of that year.) All I’m saying (and this is not any kind of dismissing opinion) is that Soderbergh’s title refuses to stick in my head but Franklin’s does.
As squalid crime films go, No Sudden Move, which I watched yesterday, is relatively decent. Okay, better than decent. Okay, pretty good. The two main desperadoes, Curt Goynes and Ronald Russo, are played with a certain natural confidence by the relentlessly smoking Don Cheadle and the constantly booze-sipping Benicio del Toro…both of whom are in their early to mid 50s. They know how to play these kinds of guys without straining or overthinking, and their confidence is infectious. Make that seriously pleasurable.
One False…No Sudden Moves is basically about everyone betraying or double-crossing everyone else…what else is new? “Trust no one and act accordingly” is the mantra of every grubby crime film made over the last 75 years. Make that 80 or 90.
I loved, loved, LOVED the old (i.e., mid ’50s) cars! Then again all the cars are newish looking, and they all look like they just came out of a car wash. Where are the dusty or dented beaters from the mid to late ’40s?
Perhaps the plotting of Ed Solomon‘s script is a little too complex and labrynthian for its own good, but the density and mutterings and head-scratching aspects didn’t bother me much. Okay, I had to watch it a second time to figure out a couple of things, but at least I liked it sufficiently to want to do that.
Brendan Fraser totally owns his obesity here…he’s out-trollops Orson Welles in Touch of Evil with one hand tied behind his back…I’m telling you that he’s a fat, fat, fat, FATTER, TOTALLY take-it-or-leave-it FATASS in this thing and he doesn’t care, and his performance as some kind of amiable but judgmental middle-management criminal is really good besides. The man is back, I’m telling you. Is he fatter than Steven Schirripa‘s “Bobby Baccalieri“? You tell me.
Other standouts include a pair of conniving, sociopathic female characters (Frankie Shaw as Paula Cole and Uncut Gems‘ Julia Fox as Vanessa Capelli, i.e., the wife of Ray Liotta‘s Frank Capelli). The spirit of Gloria Grahame lives within them.
But Matt Damon TOTALLY TAKES CHARGE during the final 20 or 25 minutes…he’s easily the most articulate character…hell, the ONLY smoothly articulate character in the entire film, and I fell for him right away. Because of this one cameo-level performance, Damon has earned 100% forgiveness for his performance in Alexander Payne‘s Downsizing. I’m also forgiving him for his forthcoming performance in Tom McCarthy‘s Stillwater, in which he plays an Oklahoma bumblefuck trying to clear his daughter (Abigail Breslin) of a murder conviction.
I honestly couldn’t figure out what the super-cool Bill Duke and his squad of Black henchmen had to do with catalytic converters. And I still don’t understand who those two guys were in the restaurant scene (one of them was bald) who started shooting when Cheadle, Fraser, Del Toro and Liotta drew their weapons.
HE approves of every damn performance in this film, but especially those from David Harbour (ethically compromised businessman), Jon Hamm (droll detective), Amy Seimetz (sullen, pissed-off housewife), Kieran Culkin (unshaven psycho), Noah Jupe (I’m getting sick of Jupe always playing brave, stand-up teenagers) and Liotta.
I liked No Sudden Move, but even now I couldn’t remember the title without looking it up. What could No Sudden Move even mean? If the title had been Life-Transforming Hetero Anal Sex in the Detroit Suburbs, I would’ve remembered that. I also would’ve remembered One Stupid-Ass Move After Another. Anyone would have. Bur No Sudden Move…what is that?