Jeremy Saulniers Rebel Crest is something very special: a tightly packed, suspenseful thriller full of thrilling action that is also a detailed and believably accurate story about public policy.
Specifically, it concerns the confiscation of civil assets and corruption in the municipal budget area of small towns.
Yes, this is a revenge film involving civil asset seizure. Rebel Crest follows an ex-Marine with a special set of skills who is ambushed by two local cops and essentially robbed of the large bag of cash he is carrying to save his cousin and start a new life for himself. But because the cops suspect it is drug money, the robbery is perfectly legal.
Rebel Crest, which debuted on Netflix last week, is both intelligent and immaculately crafted, with a series of methodical build-ups that combine to create some of the most satisfying, electrifying action beats of the year. It is part TakenPart Jack Reacherand lots of Rambo in First bloodalthough it never feels derivative.
The film begins when Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre) is unceremoniously knocked off his bike by a small town patrol car. The cops claim he fled and threaten to waste hours of his time trying to get him to allow a search of his bag. As it turns out, the bag contains $36,000, ten of which is for the bail of a cousin who, because he was once a cooperating witness, would be a branded man in prison. The rest is for starting a small business.
Because his cousin has been charged with a drug offense, the police confiscate the cash, claiming they suspect it is related to illegal drug activity. With the help of a friendly local court clerk (AnnaSophia Robb)Richmond learns he has the right to sue to get it back, but that would take months and cost more than he lost. And if he fights the seizure, the cops threaten him with a series of charges that could land him in jail.
Richmond tries to negotiate with the local police chief Sandy Burnne, who is supported by Don Johnson (yes, The Don Johnson) – and makes a deal that, in his opinion, gives the boss the most money as long as his cousin is rescued. But Burnne doesn’t stick to the deal. So Richmond starts negotiating in a different way.
As it turns out, Richmond isn’t just any former Marine. Although he’s never fought in a real war zone—one reason Burnne initially believes he’s not a threat—he has trained other Marines in a form of defensive fighting designed to disarm opponents.
From this situation follows a series of increasingly tense encounters between Richmond and Burnne’s small local force. Richmond finds increasingly clever but non-lethal – or at least “less lethal” – ways to eliminate his opponents. In the process, he discovers that he is not the only victim; the confiscation plan is part of a vast conspiracy to finance local government.
It’s weird stuff, and sometimes the film gets lost in dense legal jargon. But for the most part it’s clearly explained and plausible, and each new revelation ratchets up the tension.
It can hardly be emphasized how unusual it is that such a film even exists.
Even more unusually, the film is really good both as a political crime thriller, tracing the legal mechanisms by which local police ruin people’s lives to fund an arsenal of guns, and as a high-stakes action thriller, with convoluted setups and revenge-movie payoffs delivered with surgical precision. There are several moments in the film that make you want to cheer, thanks in part to Saulnier’s spot-on pacing and geographically coherent action choreography, and in part to Pierre’s performance as a star-making Richmond.
It’s incredibly powerful – and other filmmakers should take a leaf out of its book.
As Bulwark Critic Sonny Bunch posted on X, Rebel Crest “is a more powerful piece of activism than all the politically motivated documentaries of the last five years combined.” That may be an exaggeration. But it isa powerful political film that leaves the viewer in no doubt about its position.
Yet it is not what we usually think of as a political film: There are no moralizing speeches, no sugary subplots designed to shamelessly tug at the heartstrings. The film does not end with a lecture to the camera that sounds like a political fundraiser. This is not an opinion piece in film form that bluntly says what you should think.
Instead, there is a sympathetic hero – a (mostly) ordinary man wronged by government abuses of power enabled by a shockingly unjust system. Rebel Crest attracts you through to create a character worth cheering for. And when you cheer for him, you end up cheering against the grotesque real system that did him an injustice.
In other words, it is rare because it is a sharply political film that simply does what films are supposed to do: It tells a gripping story – and evokes emotions.
