If this isn’t the most anti-lower class wealthy male power fantasy movie I’ve ever seen, I’m not sure what is.
Honestly, the best part of the film was trying to guess how many different production company logos would appear after the first four. By the time we hit six, I started cheering like it was some sort of contest to see who had most over-the-top, high-fidelity animated intros.
At first, this remade concept of “4X4 (2019)” seemed promising— a lowlife, shitty husband, shitty father shitty person?; the classic “man, this guy STINKS” tropes thrown at the audience– gets trapped in custom built tank of a car with no escape, with a yapping psychopath droning on about etiquette and virtuoso. The script at first doesn’t want you to care about our guy Eddie Barrish (Bill Skarsgård). Well… until you realize he’s got a daughter he loves. Then suddenly, he may have a redemption arc! Our protagonist steals his way through life, taking zero accountability for his actions—until, inevitably, he fucks around too far and finds out all too quickly.
Ninety minutes of an occasionally shirtless Bill Skarsgård sitting inside a prop car screaming “Fuck you!” at an invisible prop camera later, we exit the theater contemplating what a burning Hannibal Lecture; William (Anthony Hopkins) (yes, this is a joke) had to say about society– At least, that’s probably what Raimi/Yarovesky wanted us to do. Instead, we’re fed the same tired anti-lower class slop that so-called economic society experts have been rattling on about for decades: The poor deserve to be poor. The wealthy worked for their wealth, so it’s earned, not given.
It’s the same nonsense narrative Hollywood loves to push—romanticizing the idea that struggling people just need to work harder while conveniently ignoring the systemic forces that keep the working class from ever gaining real upward mobility. Meanwhile, the rich are framed as either entitled but intelligent or cutthroat but justified because hey, at least they play the game better than you. The film never outright says this, but it doesn’t have to. The messaging is buried within the framing—Eddie is a thief, a scammer, a man who takes shortcuts. William, on the other hand, is refined, resourceful, and in control—a man who built his empire. But did he? Or did he just have access to resources Eddie never had? The film doesn’t care to explore that question, because that would require nuance.
There’s no need to dissect the film’s message too deeply—it’s simple: There’s no justice except my justice. Anthony Hopkins delivers this point loud and clear. This was never about rehabilitation, and Bill lays that out for us quite nicely toward the end.
Eddie learns his lesson (I guess? Who really knows), and life goes on… except for Williams. Did he deserve what he got? Unclear. Both he and Eddie teeter on a thin line between absolute piece of shit and morally justified, a recent trend in storytelling that forces the audience to question who they side with—the villain or the victim.
In the end, Emma still received no real justice, William became a criminal himself, and Eddie sold his only method of making money… for a bike.
