Widows begins with an odd preface. Taking a trope from literature, the film’s auteur Steve McQueen gives an introduction to his work, saying that Widows is the film he dreamed of making since he was a teenager growing up in London. He keeps it short and sweet, but it seems strange that a director whose previous works have delved so deeply into the heart of humanity, who has already won the highest award in film (Best Picture 2013 for 12 Years A Slave), would call this pulpy crime thriller “the film he always dreamed of making.” Well, be glad he did.
Based on a 1983 British television series of the same name, Widows is a gritty crime drama in the vein of Gone Girl or Breaking Bad. In fact, Gone Girl writer Gillian Flynn co-wrote the script with McQueen about a group of women whose husbands died while pulling a heist, and who then band together to finish the job. Liam Neeson plays Harry Rawlings, the Danny Ocean of dead heist-husbands who stole $2 million from crime boss-turned-political candidate Jamal Manning. Manning can’t beat his rival Jack Mulligan, a Kennedy-esque heir to a political dynasty, without that money, so he gives Rawlings’ widow two weeks to somehow pay him back.
Viola Davis shines as Veronica Rawlings, who balances bereavement, confusion and the determination to survive as she travels with her fluffy white dog Olivia through the underbellies and ivory towers of contemporary Chicago to carry out her plans. While Davis deftly embodies her multifaceted character, the ensemble cast is comprised of too many excellent actors to mention, the biggest standouts being Elizabeth Debicki as Alice, whose arc from abusee to self-agency is handled with nuance and realism, and Daniel Kaluuya (Get Out) who plays not so much a human as the physical manifestation of calm malevolence.
These great performances are elevated by McQueen’s keen eye and great sense of direction. Though not an action-heavy film, the heist and escape scenes are captured in exciting long takes reminiscent of the cinematography in Children of Men, while similar techniques are also used during quieter scenes to illustrate the many co-existing themes present in this pulp-noir heist flick. One such single-take is as memorable as it seems banal: after making a political appearance in the projects, Jack Mulligan rides off in a car whining about his life and yearning to leave politics. Instead of focusing on him speaking, the camera remains on the hood of the car, pointing left to the poverty they are leaving behind. It slowly pans right across the windshield as they drive, revealing the black chauffeur, and keeps panning right as they arrive at their destination, revealing Jack’s three-story, ivy-covered estate. The disparity couldn’t be clearer, and it, like the rest of Widows, couldn’t be conveyed better.
