63 Horas de Pânico

We saw a preview screening of Dead Man's Wire through Film Independent, followed by a powerful discussion with director Gus Van Sant and producer Cassian Elwes.

Based on the 1977 Tony Kiritsis hostage case, Dead Man's Wire retells a shocking real event: a man pushed to desperation by a mortgage company wires a shotgun to his mortgage broker and takes him hostage. Van Sant's direction transforms what could have been a cliched and formulaic true-crime story into an unflinching exploration of class, despair, and human empathy.

Bill Skarsgård delivers a career-defining performance as Tony Kiritsis. He grounds the role in vulnerability and wounded pride rather than pure rage. Dacre Montgomery, as Richard Hall, the hostage and reluctant villain, balances fear with surprising tenderness. Al Pacino, as Hall's father, looms like a cold shadow whose presence makes the film's flashes of humanity shine even brighter.

Colman Domingo's portrayal of the radio host is magnetic, his voice functions as conscience and chorus. From the studio booth he narrates, questions, and humanizes what the nation watches. His on-air calm becomes the film's moral center.

Visually, the film is a study in contrast. Van Sant and cinematographer Christopher Blauvelt use incredibly crisp and detailed images that could only be generated with modern technology, such as a burning cigarette or the close-up of someone's facial emotions, contrasted with stills reminiscent of grainy 70's newspaper B&W photography and the scanlines from the eras early color video cameras. The juxtaposition creates a layered visual tapestry that collapses documentary immediacy and archival memory into a single, haunting rhythm.

Danny Elfman's score weaves with period tracks from Gil Scott-Heron and Yes to give the film its emotional scaffolding. Sound design is precise: the crackle of a live microphone, the hollow echo of an empty office, the ominous small clicks of the device that gives the film its title. These elements turn aural texture into visceral tension.

The film also gestures at a broader pattern of public anger and institutional failure that come from the headlines of today. An examination of the moral complexity that helps the movie avoid cheap sensationalism. Instead it asks a sharper question: what happens when people are failed by legal, financial, and other systems?

Dead Man's Wire is timely. Foreclosures and financial desperation, corporate coldness and lack of compassion are not relics of the 1970s. Van Sant's film insists on empathy as an active response. It does not excuse violence. It insists on understanding the humananity behind it.

Beautifully acted, technically exacting, and emotionally resonant. A haunting meditation on dignity, rage, and the fragile threads that bind us. Highly recommended.

Dead Man's Wire is a masterclass in tonal balance-tense, hilarious, and deeply unsettling. Gus Van Sant crafts a 1970s-set crime drama that feels both timeless and urgently relevant. From the first scene, I was hooked. The pacing is flawless, the atmosphere electric, and the emotional stakes never let up.

Bill Skarsgård delivers a performance that's nothing short of Oscar-worthy. His portrayal of Tony Kiritsis is manic, tragic, and disturbingly charismatic. But what truly surprised me was Al Pacino. In a brief but unforgettable role as the arrogant father of the hostage, Pacino channels a Southern drawl and a venomous detachment that adds a layer of surreal comedy to the film. His phone call scene-mocking his own son while refusing to apologize-is one of the most chilling and absurd moments I've seen on screen this year.

Van Sant's direction is razor-sharp. He allows moments of improvisation (the "milk with ice" detail was apparently ad-libbed!) that add authenticity and spontaneity. The production design perfectly captures the grainy, analog tension of the era, and the soundtrack-especially the radio segments-grounds the film in a media landscape that feels eerily familiar.

What elevates Dead Man's Wire is its refusal to simplify. It doesn't ask for pity, nor does it glorify madness. Instead, it exposes a system so broken that even the most outrageous acts begin to make sense. It's a film that laughs at the absurdity of injustice while never losing sight of its human cost.

This is Van Sant at his most daring, most political, and most emotionally precise. A cinematic triumph.

Just saw this movie at TIFF. One of the best movies I have seen in a while. Two hours went insanely fast. The acting was sensational, especially the main two characters. Bill was Oscar worthy in his role as the protagonist. Gus noted in the Q&A that he likes actors ad-libbing. Apparently milk with ice was one of those!

I saw this film at the AFI Film Festival in Hollywood. I had not heard of this story before and when the chyron came on saying "based on a true story" I had my doubts - remember Fargo? Anyway, it is really a true story of a man (Bill Skarsgard) who kidnaps a mortgage company executive whom he believes cheated him. Skarsgard is outstanding as the man with a mission to get his money back and the supporting cast is good. Pacino's role is very limited but of course he is good as the executive's father. Direction by Gus Van Sant is good and the period recreations are well done with Louisville filling in for Indianapolis where the event actually occurred (I happened to talk to a gentlemen who sat next to me at another movie and he confirmed the location and accuracy of the movie). Bottom line - recommended for true crime fans.

Any experienced screenwriter offered a chance to write this story - about a mentally ill guy who takes a mortgage broker hostage - would immediately ask himself, "Who's the hero? From whose POV do I tell the story?" The writer here decided to tell the story from the deranged kidnapper's POV. A fatal mistake. We have no way in. No rooting interest. A heartless enterprise. Barren and amoral. An impeccably made bore.