January 19, 2026 · Watch the official trailer
How far one man is willing to go to prove his point and combat perceived inequity feels prescient for modern times, though the dangerous lengths some go to in making that point can reach far beyond moral and ethical boundaries.
Burdened by a mortgage company he believed had taken advantage of him, Tony Kiritsis took matters into his own hands, placing a metal wire around the neck of one of the company’s executives and connecting it to a shotgun that could kill him at any moment.
What ensued over the next two and a half days is a bizarre yet true story chronicled in director Gus Van Sant’s latest film, “Dead Man’s Wire,” which saw a limited festival run in 2025 before arriving in theaters this January.
“Dead Man’s Wire” is told largely from Tony’s perspective using modern digital cameras, while Van Sant and his team layer in additional viewpoints from law enforcement, news media, and average citizens following the unfolding standoff through period-appropriate cameras that subtly reflect how the event was experienced at the time.
Production designer Stefan Dechant and costume designer Peggy Schnitzer ground the film in a restrained 1970s color palette, using muted earth tones and lived-in textures to reinforce the ordinariness of the spaces where extraordinary choices unfold.
Bill Skarsgård, best known for playing Pennywise in the “It” films, does terrific work finding a balance between Tony’s underlying humanity and his emerging psychosis, keeping audiences guessing about what might happen next while still maintaining a degree of sympathy for the character as a whole.
There is no wide-eyed insanity bursting out of his performance; instead, he carefully blurs the lines between patriotic vigilante, wounded eccentric, and dangerous zealot.
There are clear homages to “Dog Day Afternoon” and “Taxi Driver” throughout, including moments that echo Travis Bickle’s weapon-practicing rituals, unmistakably recalling Robert De Niro’s iconic performance. These 1970s antihero and activist films provide crucial context not only for the cinematic world Van Sant is evoking, but also for the emotional psyche Skarsgård brings to Tony.
It also helps that “Dead Man’s Wire” avoids lingering too heavily on Tony’s life either before or after the hostage standoff, allowing ambiguity to elevate Skarsgård’s work rather than explain it away.
Dacre Montgomery is solidly stoic as Richard, the kidnapped executive, and while audiences are rightly drawn to Skarsgård’s erratic yet captivating lead turn, Montgomery offers a compelling balance of fear and composure that underscores Richard’s desire to survive without drifting into something resembling Stockholm syndrome.
The supporting cast further reinforces the film’s deliberate restraint, anchoring the unfolding crisis in institutional response rather than sensational escalation.
Colman Domingo brings measured authority to his role within law enforcement, grounding the procedural elements with quiet intensity, while Al Pacino appears as Richard’s father and the head of the mortgage company.
Pacino’s presence evokes unavoidable connections to “Dog Day Afternoon,” and while his limited scenes are not showcases for the actor, they function effectively within the larger framework Van Sant is constructing, reinforcing the film’s interest in consequence rather than catharsis.
In refusing to frame Tony’s actions as either righteous protest or monstrous inevitability, “Dead Man’s Wire” leaves viewers suspended in the uneasy space between conviction and consequence. Van Sant is less interested in adjudicating blame than in examining how easily moral certainty can curdle once it demands attention, control, and spectacle.
That lingering discomfort is precisely the point, and cinephiles interested in vintage character-driven dramas would be well served to seek the film out theatrically, where its restraint, tension, and moral unease are allowed to fully take hold.
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