David Tennant in: Cash-and-Carry Justice!

Dean Devlin (director), Bad Samaritan

Feckless young stoner Sean Falco (Robert Sheehan) parks cars outside an upscale Portland, Oregon, restaurant. But that’s a side gig: once customers trust them with their keys, he burglarizes their homes while they’re dining. He’s gotten good, too, at selecting subtle loot that nobody misses. Until the day slick, upscale Cale Erendreich (David Tennant) gives Sean his keys, and Sean discovers a battered girl chained in Cale’s home office.

Only Dean Devlin’s second directorial outing, Bad Samaritan opened to lukewarm reviews and dismal receipts. Those who saw it, gave it somewhat warm, but not overwhelming, reviews; but not many people saw it. This isn’t entirely unfair, given its straight-to-DVD characteristics: much action is squarely centered and unsubtle, like the director expected audiences to watch with one eye, while cooking dinner. This isn’t cinema as high literature.

But within that limit, it nevertheless makes an interesting commentary on American justice and unequal economics. Cale Erendreich has everything Americans have learned to expect from prosperity, including a glamorous house, numerous girlfriends, and virtual impunity. He also tortures and kills women. Sean Falco is poor, strung-out, and a petty criminal, but as the only witness to Cale’s depravity, he’s desperate to be perceived as honest.

Sean attempts to report Cale’s crimes to Portland PD, twice. And twice, the fuzz disbelieves him. One detective even sits at Cale’s kitchen island, drinking coffee and chatting amiably, while Cale lies like a rug. Worse, returning to the station, the detective threatens Sean, based on his prior history for broken-windows offenses. Apparently, Sean’s vandalism arrests and other petty convictions rank worse than Cale’s disdain for humanity.

Women everywhere can probably sympathize.

Once Cale recognizes Sean’s intrusion into his carefully controlled world, he organizes ways to control and dominate Sean. He gets Sean’s parents fired from their honest, blue-collar jobs, demolishes Sean’s relationship with his out-of-his-league girlfriend, and destroys Sean’s half-restored vintage car. Piece by piece, he dismantles Sean’s life, leaving him alone and defenseless against a city that doesn’t care.

Here’s where this movie earns some of its harsh criticism. Cale’s deconstruction of Sean’s life follows, almost note-for-note, the pattern described in Blake Snyder’s screenwriting guide, Save the Cat!. Though Sheehan, Tennant, and a sterling supporting cast of inordinately good-looking performers give their all, and Tennant maintains a remarkably good American accent, we quickly realize, the story is beholden to a beat sheet. The characters are simply carried along.

David Tennant sadistically enjoys toying with his prey in Bad Samaritan

However, in parallel to this beat-sheet story format, one character stands out. Character actor Tracey Heggins, as a young FBI agent eager to break her first case, chooses to ignore her superior officers’ advice and take Sean’s accusations seriously. She admits his story doesn’t sound altogether plausible, but it at least remains consistent, which sets him above the run-of-the-mill crank. She doesn’t necessarily believe Sean, but takes him seriously.

Desperate to protect his loved ones, Sean pursues Cale using any tools available. He believes the entire law-enforcement establishment opposes him, and knows both the law, and criminals far more skillful than him, will demolish him should he falter. That doesn’t matter; he only knows there’s a helpless girl, a family who doesn’t understand, and somebody who takes pleasure in others’ suffering. He only wants to put things right.

Cale openly boasts that his money makes him immune to consequences. Throughout most of this movie, that’s true. I cannot help comparing this movie to another socially motivated horror thriller, Jordan Peele’s Get Out, in that it foregrounds a White villain whose wealth distorts the value of justice. Where Peele makes his story about race, Devlin makes his about wealth. The difference probably doesn’t matter much to the desperate protagonists.

Audiences can probably perceive this movie one of two ways. The cat-and-mouse suspense narrative definitely leaves something to be desired. As stated, it follows the beat sheet included in a mass-market screenwriting guide. Tennant, as Cale, comes across as a poor man’s Hannibal Lecter. Sean is no Clarice. It’s not boring, but it does play by the numbers, reaching through standard confrontations, toward a conclusion we feel is probably inevitable.

Simultaneously, the movie makes clear comments on whom the law actually serves. At multiple points, it reminds us how police obey when rich people call, yet reflexively consider the poor untrustworthy. We watch Sean desperately telling the truth, while the “justice system” sweeps real, substantive crimes under the rug. As a thriller, this movie is okay, but not groundbreaking. As social commentary, it has something to say about cash-and-carry justice.