In every Darren Aronofsky movie, there is always this central character, stumbling through a labyrinthine of darkness, exorcism, and false catharsis. Whether it’s Tommy in The Fountain (2006), Randy in The Wrestler (2008), Nina in Black Swan (2010), or Mother in Mother! (2017), they all seek shelter from turbulence amidst physical decay. In Aronofsky’s latest, the excellent crime thriller Caught Stealing, Hank Thompson muses on the illusion of normalcy away from the merciless, grimy metropolis that eats at his body and soul.
Introductions first, Caught Stealing is a chase across the gritty New York of 1998. Hank Thompson, a sweet, handsome boy originally from California, agrees to babysit his neighbor Russ’s (Matt Smith) cat. But that random act of kindness opens the floodgates of Hell, and suddenly Hank finds himself pursued by some of the city’s most terrifying underground criminals. Hank also has a loving mom who trained him to be a skilled baseball player, and a sexy, witty girlfriend with whom he’s in a situationship that resembles our modern dating lives. Kudos to Charlie Huston’s script for making their relationship more ambiguous than it is in the book. It’s a revelation, perfectly suited to our complex modern relationships, where lines are blurred and commitments fleeting.
As someone not familiar with ‘90s New York, the Big Apple terrifies me in this film. It’s cruel, unrelenting, gross, fast-paced, and aching with the wailings of the tormented behind closed walls. In every apartment or alleyway is a tragedy of a drunk passing out to his demise, getting tortured for crimes he hasn’t committed, or losing one battle after the other with the city that never gives him a break. Toilets are clogged, detectives are deceptive, and criminals wait around every corner, ready to snatch innocent men and turn them into beasts in hiding.
The first time Yvonne starts talking to Hank about “Taking care of his shit,” we realize she is not winning. Played wonderfully by an ethereal and coyly sexy Zoë Kravitz, Yvonne is a character who commands the screen even in as few moments as she appears. She’s a caring woman for a miserable loser, a man who can’t even get a grip on his haunted soul or his decaying body. Speaking of bodies and Aronofsky’s fascination with them, isn’t Austin Butler’s body one of the most beautiful to ever grace the screen? People have fallen in love with his face in The Bikeriders, and in Caught Stealing, they have had a chance to admire the whole package, even with the missing organs, the bruises, and the violence inflicted on it from almost every character in the film. Butler leans and slides, and uses his athletic body to perfection. With every action sequence and emotionally cathartic moment, Butler cements his place on top of Mt. Hollywood as a screen presence of rare authority and a genuine leading man.
As Yvonne tries to collect whatever parts of Hank’s scattered body across New York’s seedy bars and pubs, she learns -like every woman before her- that a man can’t be saved, and in the process, a woman can easily meet her demise. But this story is not really about Hank and Yvonne’s situationship. It’s about a young, gullible, doe-eyed man, trying to numb himself from feeling too much, only for the world to storm at him full throttle, bullets and zip ties included. Butler portrays Hank with near perfection. With every muscle in his face, with his wide eyes in panicky moments, or his darkened looks in emotionally suppressed instances, Butler proves again that he is a force of nature hiding in plain sight. In Aronofsky’s hands, it comes as no surprise that he sheds more layers down the road to becoming a veteran actor.
Aronofsky gorgeously sticks to format, adapting a movie based on Huston’s novel -the first in an exciting crime noir trilogy- and flexes his directorial muscles without getting too burdened by existential questions or philosophical contemplations on life and death. If anything, he treats Hank like a bug under a microscope, following him around as he messes not just his life, but the lives of everyone in his wake. He directs the film with the same individual personality he has given to his earlier work. He plays by the rules while reveling in the torment he inflicts on his characters. The result is a lighthearted scene in the middle of chaos, and Matthew Libatique’s cinematography embellishes the dark tones with some beautiful moments, stolen from a man’s collapsing world, like Hank’s Coney Island moment with the cat he, again, reluctantly agrees to befriend.
Like a Greek tragedy, nothing is meant to go right with a reluctant hero who tries to outwit fate -in his passive, pacifist way- but every move of his results in collateral damage. The chorus -mainly Yvonne- reflects on his actions, providing moral commentary and reminding him of what he ignores. The consequences of his actions cascade into little fires everywhere, one massacre after the other, and his good intentions are buried beneath his misdoings.
Speaking of cats, watching Butler and Tonic the Cat in scenes together has been a breath of fresh air. Their chemistry is amazing, but it also shows the depth of the bond between Hank and Bud as the narrative progresses. Put an animal -a highly trained one at that- in a veteran director like Aronofsky’s hands, and the result is magical, unlike any animal we’ve seen in modern films. Hank’s care for Bud reminds us of Yvonne’s care for Hank, and that poses the question of how she sees him: an intelligent woman, as she is, with a hectic job that should have led her to pick a less hectic relationship? Is he another wounded animal that life has sent her way? Does she see the animal inside the man in Hank or the man inside the animal?
Caught Stealing is a gritty thriller. An action-packed, noir comedy. Yet, it resonates deeply through its uninhibited performances, excellent soundtrack, and diverse cast of characters. It’s a story about men being chased through ruthless spaces that show little concern for their residents. It’s a love letter to ‘90s New York, but also a simple story about how running away from trauma only brings it crawling to one’s door, and a tribute to the average Joe who is hunted like a rabbit in a city that has neither loved him nor anyone else walking down its graffiti-stricken streets.