The TIFF Film Review: Gus Van Sant‘s “Dead Man’s Wire“
By Ross
NORTH AMERICAN PREMIERE – United States of America | 2025 | 104m | English
The smooth radio tones of Roberta Flack and such drive us into what may be one of the most electric and captivating films that I have had the pleasure of seeing so far this year at TIFF, a testament to director Gus Van Sant’s precise and complex eye. Based on the real-life drama that unfolded behind closed doors and in front of television cameras in 1977, “Dead Man’s Wire” invigorates, elevates, and empathizes with the tortured soul at the heart of Gus Van Sant’s remarkable piece of filmmaking, crafting not just a docudrama but a chillingly intimate character study. Strange, yet completely fascinating, the film attempts to unravel a man before our very eyes, one who became something of an outlaw folk hero live on the small screens of Indianapolis, Indiana, after he kidnapped Richard Hall. Played solidly by Dacre Montgomery (Netflix’s “Stranger Things“), who wisely avoids caricature, Hall became a symbol of privilege, working for and being the son of M.L. Hall, his mortgage broker and head honcho at Meridian Mortgage Company.
Portrayed spectacularly by Bill Skarsgård (“Nosferatu“), the aspiring entrepreneur, Tony Kiritsis, who is holding the wire and the trigger in this invigorating drama, spirals into a tense standoff that lasted 63 hours, as he held hostage the son of the man he believes orchestrated his demise. Skarsgård unpacks a performance both volcanic and precise, layering Kiritsis’s fury with flashes of cunning charisma that break through, turning him into an everyman, rebellious folk hero. He asserts that Hall Sr. orchestrated his financial failure for no other reason than to keep the struggling on their weakened knees, while the rich pull all the heartless strings and remain in control. It’s a framing that resonates these days, as we watch and feel for this man, as directed skillfully by Van Sant (To Die For, Milk). Kiritsis has finally had enough of the businessman runaround, and he takes what he feels is necessary action; to unmask his tormentors and demand the respect he feels he deserves. And with Al Pacino (HBO’s Angels in America) in a sly supporting role that radiates privilege and evasiveness, portraying his intended target, M.L. Hall, who went on holiday in Florida (naturally) rather than being present for his appointment with Kiritsis, the elements quickly and strikingly fall into place.
With Van Sant probing the mythology of the anti-hero, he dives in and explores the fascinating true story of February 8, 1977, when a kidnapping turned Kiritsis into an urban rebel legend, standing up to the entitled, powerful, rich men of the time and demanding to be heard, paid attention to, and not brushed aside. The structuring of the film is as exquisite and precise as the way Kiritsis wired a 12-gauge Winchester 1400 shotgun around Hall’s neck, aimed at the back of his head, designed to trigger this deadly “dead man’s line” to kill Hall if police attempted to intervene or if Hall tried to escape. The tightness of the film mirrors the relentlessness and energy of the pair, and once the wire was expertly in place, linking the two in a deadly taut dance, Kiritsis called the police and informed them of his plan. He is going to take Richard Hall to his apartment and hold him hostage until his demands are met, with the main one being a public apology from Pacino’s Hall and an admission of guilt. He wanted legal immunity as well as a $5 million settlement, and then we would let Hall’s son (and accomplice) go. The screenplay wisely focuses its attention, not just on what happens in the room between all those active players, but on how the public’s attention empowers the desperate Kiritsis, infiltrating the air with an elevated tension that never loosens its grip.
Kiritsis called a personally loved DJ at a local radio station, Fred Temple (real-life radio station WIBC 1070 AM newsman Fred Heckman), played smoothly and wisely by Colman Domingo (“Rustin“; Broadway‘s The Scottsboro Boys), as he felt the man would understand him and broadcast his frequent messages on a radio station. Domingo’s powerfully delivered calm voice resonates through the airwaves, providing the film with a solid moral anchor and a grounding tone. It works its magic on all who listen. Through those well chronicled radio interactions, Kiritsis became that legendary underdog figure, fighting hard against the big man who was keeping all of those hard-working folk underneath their high-polished shoe’s sole. The film and Skarsgård’s masterful performance, played off to perfection against Montgomery’s finely nuanced Hall Jr., delivers the drama in a highly engaging form, including that epic televised moment when Kiritsis declares himself “a hero” before police chief Fisher, Detective Michael Grable (a strongly attuned Cary Elwes), and the enthralled viewing audience. It’s tense and thrilling to watch, staged perfectly by Van Sant to wring every ounce of suspense with chilling precision, making us tune in as enthusiastically as all those who watched at home on their television.
The electricity is palpable, particularly as it becomes clear that the Police Chief had crafted a plan to take out Kiritsis if necessary, with the pull of a pocket handkerchief, but ultimately, as the history books tell us, Kiritsis released Hall as he said he would, firing the gun into the air to make a point, and was immediately arrested. The agreement and signed letter of immunity were worthless, as we all assumed they would be. Van Sant and his wisely crafted film take us dutifully to the end, leaving us navigating the absurdities of the legal system and the “shit show” that Kiritsis had crafted and then unmasked.
Written with clarity, wit, and an empathetic heart by Austin Kolodney (“Funny Or Die“), “Dead Man’s Wire” captures the desperation and need for respect of the underdog. The script expertly delivers unexpected humor, without ever mocking Kiritsis’s tortured feelings of anger, ignited by the disloyalty he feels in the way he was treated by this company and those privileged men who hold all the financial power in the world. It’s darlingly honest and darkly funny, as well as being completely captivating and engaging, especially when Kiritsis ropes in Domingo’s beloved local disc jockey away from a dinner with his wife to become an active part of the message. It’s exactly the kind of TIFF discovery that makes the scramble for a seat so early in the morning more than worth it. Who needs that cup of coffee and a sugar-free muffin when you have Gus Van Sant stringing you up on a “Dead Man’s Wire” to keep us (and Hall) sitting up tall and staying wide awake, refusing to let us blink or look away?
