So good, it’s criminal: the ambiguous brilliance of Hell or High Water | Film

David Mackenzie’s film Hell or High Water is, by turns, exciting, ambiguous and downbeat. Transcending the simplicity of its cops and robbers setup, this tale of last resorts, capitalist injustice and moral grey areas leaves you constantly unsure whom to root for – if you’re even supposed to root for anyone in it at all.

Brothers Toby (Chris Pine) and Tanner (Ben Foster) are pushed to their limit by the death of their mother and the imminent bank foreclosure on their family ranch. With an oil drilling contract due to start on the land, the bank intends to take ownership, having forced the brothers deep into debt. With no other options available, Toby and Tanner take to bank robbery. But the rewards are modest (in bank robbery terms) so they need to hit multiple branches to raise the necessary funds to save the ranch. And two Texas rangers, Marcus (Jeff Bridges) and Alberto (Gil Birmingham), are in pursuit, following the brothers in the wake of each robbery, trying to anticipate where the next will occur.

Pine and Foster are both outstanding as the delinquent siblings forced into a corner. Tanner is a loose unit but Foster is so charming and charismatic that we find ourselves liking him, even when we probably shouldn’t. Toby is more sympathetic but still flawed and Pine plays him to his career best.

The relationship between the rangers is equally fraternal. Marcus can only express affection for his friend through teasing and insults; Bridges’ crotchety performance here is not a million miles from his stellar work in True Grit. And Birmingham gives it right back with a deadpan demeanour.

There’s a sense of righteousness to the brothers’ actions – an element of Robin Hood to their struggle, redressing injustice inflicted on the working class by a wealthy, faceless conglomerate. The bank gets no sympathy at any turn and it is the prevailing opinion of many in the film that it almost deserves to be robbed – the diner patron who claims the bank has stolen from him for years, the lawyer who despairs at its underhand tactics. There is beautiful irony in Toby and Tanner’s solution: robbing the organisation responsible for their debt to effectively repay it with its own money.

But then there are the ordinary folk who end up as collateral damage: those caught up in the aftermath of the heists, the traumatised bank tellers. The brothers are united by their belief that the ends justify the means. But in some manner their disregard for other people is exactly the same callousness exhibited by the bank.

There is a pervading sense of resignation to Hell or High Water, exacerbated by the gloomy piano and menacing strings of Nick Cave and Warren Ellis’s excellent score. The brothers know full well their undertaking is likely to be futile. “I never met anyone who got away with anything,” Tanner says.

Marcus and Alberto are on their final job together, with Marcus at a loss as to how to fill his days after his looming retirement. Local cowboys lament the obsolescence of their profession and the lawmen find themselves in small, desolate towns with hardly anything left of them. As Alberto opines, “How is anyone supposed to make a living?”

Despite the inevitability of it all, there’s still room for humour and beefy action. It’s Texas, after all, so there are a lot of guns in this film, leading to some tense and hugely exciting heist set-pieces. Hell or High Water would be in the running for best crime thriller of the 2010s. What lesson is there, then, in its refusal to pick a side? Maybe there is none.

David Mackenzie’s film Hell or High Water is, by turns, exciting, ambiguous and downbeat. Transcending the simplicity of its cops and robbers setup, this tale of last resorts, capitalist injustice and moral grey areas leaves you constantly unsure whom to root for – if you’re even supposed to root for anyone in it at all.

Brothers Toby (Chris Pine) and Tanner (Ben Foster) are pushed to their limit by the death of their mother and the imminent bank foreclosure on their family ranch. With an oil drilling contract due to start on the land, the bank intends to take ownership, having forced the brothers deep into debt. With no other options available, Toby and Tanner take to bank robbery. But the rewards are modest (in bank robbery terms) so they need to hit multiple branches to raise the necessary funds to save the ranch. And two Texas rangers, Marcus (Jeff Bridges) and Alberto (Gil Birmingham), are in pursuit, following the brothers in the wake of each robbery, trying to anticipate where the next will occur.

Pine and Foster are both outstanding as the delinquent siblings forced into a corner. Tanner is a loose unit but Foster is so charming and charismatic that we find ourselves liking him, even when we probably shouldn’t. Toby is more sympathetic but still flawed and Pine plays him to his career best.

The relationship between the rangers is equally fraternal. Marcus can only express affection for his friend through teasing and insults; Bridges’ crotchety performance here is not a million miles from his stellar work in True Grit. And Birmingham gives it right back with a deadpan demeanour.

There’s a sense of righteousness to the brothers’ actions – an element of Robin Hood to their struggle, redressing injustice inflicted on the working class by a wealthy, faceless conglomerate. The bank gets no sympathy at any turn and it is the prevailing opinion of many in the film that it almost deserves to be robbed – the diner patron who claims the bank has stolen from him for years, the lawyer who despairs at its underhand tactics. There is beautiful irony in Toby and Tanner’s solution: robbing the organisation responsible for their debt to effectively repay it with its own money.

But then there are the ordinary folk who end up as collateral damage: those caught up in the aftermath of the heists, the traumatised bank tellers. The brothers are united by their belief that the ends justify the means. But in some manner their disregard for other people is exactly the same callousness exhibited by the bank.

There is a pervading sense of resignation to Hell or High Water, exacerbated by the gloomy piano and menacing strings of Nick Cave and Warren Ellis’s excellent score. The brothers know full well their undertaking is likely to be futile. “I never met anyone who got away with anything,” Tanner says.

Marcus and Alberto are on their final job together, with Marcus at a loss as to how to fill his days after his looming retirement. Local cowboys lament the obsolescence of their profession and the lawmen find themselves in small, desolate towns with hardly anything left of them. As Alberto opines, “How is anyone supposed to make a living?”

Despite the inevitability of it all, there’s still room for humour and beefy action. It’s Texas, after all, so there are a lot of guns in this film, leading to some tense and hugely exciting heist set-pieces. Hell or High Water would be in the running for best crime thriller of the 2010s. What lesson is there, then, in its refusal to pick a side? Maybe there is none.