The Guilty is a western remake of the original 2018 release from Denmark; that film received high acclaim and even a nomination for best foreign film at the Oscars. This new version brings in A-list actors and presents the same story in a more well-known location. If it wasn’t for a powerful lead performance, it would be highly forgettable.
On a deadly and desperate night, Los Angeles is burning with the emergency services hard pressed to solve crimes and assist those in need. Joe Baylor (Jake Gyllenhaal) has a lot on his plate for the night shift; one moment he’s trying to keep the press at bay and the next he’s responding to countless reports. When a series of interconnected calls lays out a family kidnapping, Baylor becomes hell-bent on solving the problem from his work station. Why is he transfixed on this single incident? Does it tie in with Joe’s personal demons? The film reveals the answers to these questions across a short ninety-minute runtime. The kidnapping unfolds in real-time so we meet new characters and gain more information from those caught up in the chaos. This includes victims, dispatched officers and other acquaintances in Joe’s circle. The perspective of a single individual trying to avert danger from a distance has been done many times before and The Guilty doesn’t do much to distinguish itself. The same beats of rising tension and the protagonist’s own mental breakdown are clearly visible from the get-go.
At the very least, the man at the centre is very well-portrayed. With the likes of Nightcrawler and Velvet Buzzsaw, Gyllenhaal has built a penchant for playing deranged, borderline psychotic characters. What makes his acting so great here is how it makes full use of a very limited setting. As it opens, he’s already numb to the repetition, the endless calls and emergencies wearing down his patience. The film gradually intensifies his emotions as the plot progresses and Jake’s expressions grow more desperate and pronounced. This escalation forms the backbone of the production and because we never leave his perspective, Joe’s rising stress is conveyed vividly. The other cast members, featuring the likes of Riley Keough, Ethan Hawke and Paul Dano, are confined to the phone and their voices are all appropriate to their worsening situations; you really do believe these ordinary people are in mortal danger. This does come at the expense of wider character development; The Guilty is mostly focused on their predicaments with only a few brief
interludes of human interaction seeping in. If the balance had been improved between the two tones, a stronger series of connections could have been established. As it stands, Joe’s psychological plight sticks to the bare minimum for character work.
Despite its self-contained events, The Guilty feels somewhat apocalyptic in nature; aside from an opening helicopter shot that pays tribute to the Francis Ford Coppola classic, we’re locked inside the call centre with Joe. The raging fire outside is contrasted with the more sterile and sanitised tech of the emergency services. For the most part we’re looking at switchboards, telecoms equipment and red lights which speaks to the detached nature of the setting. POV shots are used constantly to get the audience accustomed to the interface; we see countless calls and bits of data showing up on screen across the film’s runtime. Based on the information provided, the audience is expected to use their imagination to fill the gaps, a key detail of any audio-heavy flick. As Joe loses his composure, the creeping soundtrack from Marcelo Zarvos also intensifies, expressing the desperation of our leading man.
With its relatively basic narrative and setting, The Guilty lives and dies on its performances.
At first glance it’s an unremarkable watch but Jake Gyllenhaal’s strong performance holds
everything together. His gradual mental breakdown, the grief, tiredness and guilt that pile
on alongside his intense feeling of responsibility will pull you in. I wouldn’t expect anything
beyond this from a quality standpoint.
Rating: 3/5 Stars (Fair)
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