Upon watching “Rebel Ridge” on Netflix last week, Stephen King took to Twitter (X) to call it “the thinking man’s Rambo.” Let’s set aside that “First Blood,” the first Rambo movie, was already the thinking man’s Rambo before the franchise devolved into jingoistic carnage across its many sequels. In trying to elevate the film above the other interchangeable pieces of content Netflix calls their original programming, King damns the movie with faint praise. It’s a meathead action thriller, he seems to say, but it’s not like the dumb ones the normies love. This one is special.
He’s not wrong, but that summation still feels lacking. “Rebel Ridge” shares an obvious kinship with the bloodthirsty revenge thrillers of yesteryear. Promotional materials for the film depict Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre), an ex-marine waging a one-man war on the local police in the small southern town of Shelby Springs. Officers led by Chief Sandy Burnne (Don Johnson) have used civil forfeiture laws to seize the money Terry has legally raised to bail out his cousin Mike (C.J. LeBlanc). After being run over by cops on his bike, shaken down, and robbed, Terry has no choice but to take the law into his own hands.
“But “Rebel Ridge” rejects expectations for the kind of film it is presented to be, for better or for worse.”
But “Rebel Ridge” rejects expectations for the kind of film it is presented to be, for better or for worse.
Films like 1974 vigilante thriller “Death Wish” relish placing a seemingly ordinary (white) man into a situation where society would fail him enough to justify 90-110 minutes of violence. Fifteen years ago, “Taken” popularized a specific offshoot of that paradigm wherein the seemingly ordinary (again, often white) man would be revealed to possess a “particular set of skills.” Rather than just some pissed-off, middle-aged rando, the protagonists of these pictures would have elite military backgrounds that escalated the stakes exponentially.
The key difference between Terry and the rest of the vengeful everymen seen in these films is patience. Writer/director Jeremy Saulnier is known for deliberately and carefully depicting violence. Films like “Blue Ruin” and “Green Room” twist the knife slowly, finding tension and dread in unique places. But here, that pacing is an extension of Terry’s disposition, of his insistence on maintaining some control over the only thing he has actual domain over- himself.
It’s all right there from the opening frame. Terry is riding his bike into town, blasting “Number of the Beast” by Iron Maiden, when a patrol car rear-ends him. This opening sequence derives much of its stomach-churning suspense from the inherent danger of a Black man being pulled over down a back road. But Terry is cool. He is a relatable and reasonable figure for whom we both root and rage. Terry does everything right and doesn’t give them a reason to treat him like a threat. But it doesn’t matter. Even from three car lengths away, these cops could see Terry’s skin, which makes him the perfect mark for their abuse of power.
The pissed-off white men in most revenge thrillers can’t wait to get down to cracking skulls.
Their films sprint through exposition and set-up to arrive at their righteous fury as quickly as humanly possible. But the half-hour of red tape, systemic graft, and misfortune Terry endures feels like an eternity. Any viewer, especially a Black one, will be digging their fingers into their armrests just waiting for Terry to unleash holy hell. But even when he finally crosses the line, the film never devolves into the cinematic carnage the preceding injustices beg for.
It must be said, no cops were killed throughout the duration of this film. If the trailers suggest Terry will mow them all down one by one a la John Wick, they will have to settle for a lot of judo throws, leg sweeps and careful disarming. It’s hard to parse what kind of moral victory the filmmakers hoped for Terry to achieve by holding back on the violence front. Why go through so much trouble to create the pretense for viewers to yearn for the kind of righteous fury Quentin Tarantino enacted upon enslavers in “Django Unchained” and nazis in “Inglourious Basterds” to chicken out in delivering the goods?
That restraint isn’t the only questionable element the film possesses. The lone Black woman (Zsané Jhé) in the cast is a cop who has a strange loyalty to her blatantly corrupt colleagues. There is a scene where Terry is carrying Summer in his arms, which feels entirely too much like a Dr. Umar anti-snow bunny meme. Taken alone, these could just be ill fitting details. But taken together, it paints a more frustrating picture. “Rebel Ridge” spends so much of its first half outlining precisely how pervasive and destructive these forces can be when left unchecked. Only for its second half to hedge its bets to spare some semblance of redemption for the lesser officers lower in the pecking order.
But a lack of proximity to the core of racial malice is not the same thing as absolution from culpability’s far reach. At one point, Burnne tells Terry, in a moment of blame shifting for the film’s central tragedy, “just because you were right, doesn’t make us wrong.” It’s vexing that the film itself seems to agree with him.
So, why overlook these rather grating flaws? Well, for one, don’t overlook them. Even the film’s flaws have value and are worthy of post-show discussion. But in addition to Saulnier’s shrewd direction and Don Johnson’s surprising efficacy for playing racist heels (he’s seriously turned it into a cottage industry in the last ten years), “Rebel Ridge” is a star-making turn for Pierre.
The handsome Pierre is effortless with the role’s physical demands, and between his voice and his piercing gaze, he takes command of the screen from the moment we look at him. One moment sticks out among a film full of strong moments from Pierre. Terry is racing on his bike, trying to catch up to the bus, transferring Mike to prison. He promises to get him out of this and goes to dap him through the window, but he can’t match pace with the bus. While Mike and the other inmates cheer him on, he speeds up enough for their knuckles to meet.
“With a lesser performer, this minor triumph might seem a laughable attempt at levity, but in Pierre’s hands, it feels powerful enough to want to stand and cheer for. Stars are born so rarely these days. This birth feels worth the price of admission alone.”
With a lesser performer, this minor triumph might seem a laughable attempt at levity, but in Pierre’s hands, it feels powerful enough to want to stand and cheer for. Stars are born so rarely these days. This birth feels worth the price of admission alone.
“Rebel Ridge” is streaming exclusively on Netflix.
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