Why are we drawn to stories of criminals? Do we crave an understanding of what occurs in a criminal’s mind, or do we simply find these stories entertaining based on the escapism that they offer? It’s quite clear that there’s a profound fascination behind the impulses that go into committing acts against society, and the larger the target (or rather, the more impersonal), the more heroic that person comes across, almost as if it becomes a victimless crime. This is something that Bart Layton uses as the impetus for Crime 101, his most recent foray into the mind of a hardened criminal, following previous endeavours like The Impostor (a promising documentary about the psychology behind crime) and American Animals, forming an unofficial trilogy with those equally layered works. The film is set in contemporary Los Angeles, and revolves around a few key characters, each one of whom is related to the same central premise. Mike is an expert jewel thief who has perfected his modus operandi, but finds his livelihood challenged when his fence begins to show preference for Ormon, a younger, more rambunctious criminal whose own methods seem to be far more promising. Lou Lubesnick is a detective investigating these robberies, which he finds becomes excruciatingly difficult when he doesn’t have the support of his peers, who view him as nothing more than a raving lunatic, particularly when he offers his theory that this string of robberies, which the department believes to be unrelated, are all the handiwork of the same thief. Finally, Sharon Combs is an insurance agent who has grown tired of her tedious life, and slowly starts to find her curiosity about this enigmatic jewel thief growing, to the point where she begins to question whether or not it is worth taking a sojourn into slightly more immoral practices if it means improving her humdrum existence. What sounds like a sprawling, complex crime epic is unfortunately squandered by poor execution, where the foundation of the material is almost entirely invalidated by a director who tries to capture a specific atmosphere but unfortunately struggles to do anything beyond the absolute bare minimum, losing our attention and making Crime 101 a far less entertaining film than it could’ve been with some additional effort.

There are many examples of works that look at the divide between criminals and law enforcement – some focus on the perspective of those committing the crimes, trying to understand their psychology, whereas others choose to look at the trials and tribulations of the hardworking people who toil laboriously to bring them to justice; Crime 101 joins the company of those that attempt to look at both, which is an ambitious approach, but not at all original. Layton clearly envisioned this film as some expansive crime epic in which multiple interweaving perspectives come together to form a portrait of various people connected by the same set of circumstances. There is value in this approach, since we’re naturally drawn to stories that deconstruct common ideas, and a complex character study about the relationship between criminals and the people who pursue them (as well as those who exist on the periphery, being either aids or obstacles) makes for very compelling viewing, since through this we can see how it isn’t always a binary division between right and wrong, and that there is some moral ambiguity present across the board. The film takes its cue from the idea that desperate times call for desperate measures, with each of the core characters in this story being people who are at the end of their tether – a veteran jewel thief who has grown too comfortable in his field that a near-death experience causes him to spiral into existential despair, a detective trying to hold onto the paltry scraps of respectability that he has, an ambitious drifter who believes he can make his fortune through violence, and an insurance agent who realises that she has dedicated years of her life to a meaningless pursuit where her contributions are constantly overlooked and dismissed. Through realising that there is an easier way out – granted, one that requires a lot more perilous – they begin to plot towards this eventual liberation. It would be a solid premise if the entire concept was ruined by heavy-handed execution that prevents any real complexity from emerging throughout the film.

Each one of these people is complex and interesting in their own way, and through positioning the film as a character study about a group of people engaging in a game of cat-and-mouse, Layton does show that there is a lot of potential here. I have to assume the screenplay was special, since the film that surrounds it is nothing if not entirely vapid, but the fact that it managed to attract such an enormously eclectic cast must speak to either the director’s influence and connections, or the fact that he perhaps wrote a better script than what we saw on screen. The three core leads are played by Chris Hemsworth (portraying yet another complex anti-hero forced to choose between what is right and what is easy), Halle Berry and Mark Ruffalo, who is doing yet another dress rehearsal for the role of Detective Colombo, armed with the same shaggy dog persona that he has been curating for a while. None of them is untalented by any means, but as soon as they’re handed these forgettable characters, they seem unable to deliver any kind of effective performance, which isn’t helped by the script not actually knowing which of the three should be the focus at any given point. Supporting parts by a sprawling ensemble are not much better – Barry Keoghan is delivering the same performance as a disturbed, dangerous young man that has become his bread and butter for going on a decade, while Nick Nolte, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Corey Hawkins and Devon Bostick are given mostly forgettable characters, while those who have more interesting parts, like Monica Barbaro and Tate Donovan, lack the charisma and gravitas to pull it off. Despite the strength of the cast, there’s no cohesion, and it genuinely feels like Layton was just compelled to cast every actor that came across his table, giving them either thankless roles with no substance, or forcing them to do work that barely registers as being anything more than the absolute bare minimum.

Despite its strong cast, Crime 101 still somehow struggles to capture our attention for reasons that all come down to the execution of its core ideas. Layton evidently views himself as someone who is far more nuanced than he actually is – to his credit, there is a degree of complexity that this story required, but considering he was working from his own screenplay, there was no way to blame the flaws of the film on a disconnect as the ideas moved from page to screen. The primary issue with this film is that it never knows what it wants to be – at first it is trying desperately to be a complex character study set in the world of crime, but after a while, it loses all of its promise solely because it isn’t entirely sure how to navigate most of its tonal and conceptual qualities, rather than doing the bare minimum. One of the core problems here is that these characters are intellectually quite interesting, but they aren’t at all emotionally compelling – we understand the motivations, but cannot feel invested in their journey, since they feel so hollow. The multiple perspectives tend to dilute any sense of emotional momentum, since the film doesn’t do a good job of leaping from one storyline to another, shifting its focus elsewhere and ultimately lacking any real sense of cohesion. There are no meaningful relationships formed, and the chemistry between the cast is barely present, to the point where every interaction feels functional rather than having any spark. There’s simply no suspense or nuance, with every narrative beat being entirely predictable and frankly very frustrating. This is a film that tries desperately to prioritise atmosphere over character development, and while the aesthetic is undeniably polished, it ultimately feels like a very shallow endeavour, without an ounce of tension or complexity beyond what was necessary, which is only one of the many issues present in this misguided attempt at a crime epic that is neither interesting nor compelling beyond the most obvious clichés that populate this story.

If anything is proven by this film, it is that a good concept, an exceptional cast and some stylish direction are simply not enough to hold our attention when there is just not enough effort put into the construction of this story. Crime 101 begins with the promise of exploring the fascination with criminals, built around the moral ambiguity that often surrounds these people, which suggests something much more profound lingering beneath the surface. Unfortunately, it is not the inherently compelling socio-cultural drama about people rejecting society’s conventions in the pursuit of freedom, and instead ends up being an overwrought disaster. The director is unable to develop the promising ideas beyond the superficial, relying on familiar tropes disguised as nuance, rejecting any real or emotional depth beyond what was completely necessary. Every character feels shallow and lacking in any complexity, despite the film being constructed as a psychological study; no one evolves beyond the broadest of archetypes, which makes it difficult to get invested in their journeys. The result is a film that constantly hints at complexity without actually realising any of its ideas, blurring perspectives and being quite heavy-handed in its message, almost as if the audience cannot be trusted to figure out exactly what the film is communicating. Despite some promise and a lot of style (which actually proves to be an impediment – style over substance is very much at play here), Crime 101 is ultimately an imitation of far better crime epics, proving that ambition alone cannot compensate for storytelling that lacks conviction and authenticity, ultimately becoming hopelessly bland and frankly quite dull.