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‘Caught Stealing’ Review: A Chaotic Descent into NYC’s Underworld

Dir. Darren Aronofsky — 3.5 Stars

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In “Caught Stealing,” Darren S. Aronofsky ’91 swings us back to 1998, the year that he made his feature directorial debut with “Pi.” Known for his psychological thrillers and disturbing concepts, his latest picture is instead an action-packed crime caper set in his hometown of New York City.

Based on the book of the same title by Charlie Huston, who also wrote the screenplay, “Caught Stealing” is the story of Hank Thompson (Austin Butler) — a thirty-something, washed-up baseball prodigy. We quickly find out that a devastating car accident in his youth ended his shot of playing major league ball.

Hank is defined by his love for the San Francisco Giants: He always has his Giants hat on, sticking out like a sore thumb in the heartland of Mets fans. A devoted mama’s boy, he ends every daily phone call to his mom (an uncredited Laura Dern) with “Go Giants,” allowing the entire film to be framed by baseball and broken dreams.

The interesting thing about Hank is that he seems, by all means, like a normal guy. He bartends for a living, has a sort-of girlfriend named Yvonne (Zoë Kravitz), and lives in a Lower East Side apartment with bad plumbing and even worse neighbors. However, when one neighbor, a British punk named Russ (Matt Smith), asks him to watch his pet cat for a few days, he is unwittingly dragged into a violent world of crime and murder.

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Hank’s predicament is a callback to Martin Scorsese’s 1985 cult classic “After Hours,” a reference Aronofsky underscores by casting Griffin Dunne — Scorsese’s original lead — as Hank’s boss.

For a film so gritty and grimy, “Caught Stealing” is delightfully slick. It was shot by Aronofsky’s long-time collaborator Matthew Libatique, who captures absurd and violent events with clean-cut frames — offering an impressive precision to such a messy series of events. The visual language particularly shines in the motif of the car crash. Twice, a close-up, slo-mo shot of a car crashing face-first into a pole is utilized to create a horrific, but enrapturing cinematic moment.

As the film progresses, it dives further into neo-noir, underscoring the corruption and complications within the world of law enforcement and crime. New York becomes a character of its own. Sharp on-location shooting makes all the places Hank ends up in clearly recognizable: Chinatown, Coney Island, Flushing Meadows, Brighton Beach.

Within this setting, the absurdities of city living shine through. An off-kilter set of supporting characters underpins the comedy in “Caught Stealing.” The movie offers a diverse set of rogues. It’s impossible not to notice the neon yellow mohawk on Russ’ head. The Russian goons are perfect comic archetypes. The smaller one, nicknamed Microbe (Nikita Kukushkin), is practically feral, beating Hank to the point of kidney failure. Hilariously, he taunts Hank by singing cliche American tunes like “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.”

There’s also the Orthodox Jewish brothers (Liev Schreiber and Vincent D’Onofrio) who carry out casual murders by day but won’t drive on Shabbat — and still make time to deliver challah to their “Bubbe.” The film also features a strong performance from Regina King as Detective Roman, who notably gives a strange monologue about black and white cookies.

On the downside, with such a colorful ensemble, Austin Butler’s everyman Hank gets lost in the mix — making it difficult to fully connect with his character.

The blend of excruciating torture scenes and absurdist comedy is entertaining but disorienting. Aronofsky juggles this dichotomy well enough, but it doesn’t leave sufficient room for a deeper emotional resonance. Unlike “Requiem for a Dream” or “The Whale,” it lacks a core of tragedy, and without the surrealism and fantasy of “Black Swan” and “Mother!”, it loses the mythic quality that often elevates Aronofsky’s work.

Nevertheless, “Caught Stealing” is a stylish, darkly funny film about a week gone horribly wrong. While certainly an entertaining watch, it — like Hank — never really makes it to the major leagues

—Staff writer Capri S. Wayne can be reached at capri.wayne@thecrimson.com.

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