‘How to Kill’ review: Glen Powell’s star power proves limited in gentle black comedy

Trying to find your niche as a movie star is not easy. Take Glen Powell, for example, who possesses the kind of good looks and charisma that only great genes can provide. Powell has had great success with successful franchises such as Top Gun: Maverick and Hurricanes. And like his predecessor Matthew McConaughey, he’s perfect for romantic comedies Anyone but you Proven. But it’s also clear that he’s ambitious enough to want to expand himself. Richard Linklater Hitmanwhich he also co-wrote, worked beautifully, but that was primarily a streaming release. And when Powell tried to get into leading man mode in a big-budget sci-fi film Running manHe stumbled hard.

You have to give him credit for trying something different again with John Patton Ford How to do the killingloosely inspired by the classic 1949 British comedy Kind hearts and crowns. As with that classic, the central character is a man, disowned by the patriarch of his wealthy family (Ed Harris, who is given only one actual scene to play), who decides to kill all his relatives on his way to claim his inheritance. The piece requires a difficult balancing act, since he plays an assassin who you’re expected to root for because he’s, well, Glen Powell.

It could have worked if the writer, director, and star had been more willing to go out on a limb. The film is being promoted as a black comedy, but it’s not very funny. There are times when it tries to be a serious drama, but we don’t invest enough in the characters for that to work either. Other than the fact that the novel’s blandly named protagonist, Beckett Redfellow, kills people who don’t really deserve to die for any reason other than being obnoxious, we’re supposed to sympathize with him because he’s poor and his victims are rich. I mean, Powell is a wizard, but he’s not Which Breathtaking.

The film’s flashback structure surrounding Beckett’s death row conversation with a priest (Adrian Lukis) has intermittently amusing moments. But it never gets dark enough to be enjoyed as a guilty pleasure. Beckett’s murders of his relatives, which mainly involve poisoning of one form or another, are so lacking in impact that they seem intended not to make us feel bad about the perpetrator.

These victims, with the exception of Topher Grace, who amusingly portrays it as a megachurch preacher playing an electric guitar and proudly showing off a photo of himself with El Chapo, are little more than ciphers. (You start wishing that Alec Guinness would come back from the dead and play them all, as he did in the original film.) And trying to give Beckett a serious love interest in the form of Ruth (an attractive Jessica Henwick), the widow of one of his victims (don’t worry, she was going to leave him anyway), seems perfunctory.

Margaret Qualley, who becomes the MVP of many of her pictures, almost makes the film worthwhile. She seems to enter every scene with her endlessly long legs, playing Beckett’s childhood friend, who returns to his life and appears only periodically to liven up the action. Portraying the kind of scheming femme fatale who would make life miserable for any male film noir hero, she applies just the right amount of dark humor to the material while Powell, who plays her completely straight, looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

Another highlight is the performance of the ever-reliable actor, Bill Camp, as Beckett’s only respectable relative, who takes him under his wing and whom he can’t bring himself to kill. Camp brings real heart and tenderness to his scenes, making the way his character’s story is resolved feel like a cheat.

finally How to do the killing He doesn’t have the courage of his convictions, or even the killings, which gives him a surprising rawness coming from a sharper writer-director. Emily the criminala similarly atmospheric, dark-tinged thriller in which its star, Aubrey Plaza, displayed a bravado sorely lacking here.