Directed By Janus Metz

Starring – Russell Crowe, Jacob Tremblay, Shailene Woodley

The Plot – Inspired by true events, the film follows Ted Kaczynski’s (Tremblay) transformation from 16-year-old Harvard prodigy into the infamous Unabomber. Subjected to controversial psychological experiments by Professor Henry Murray (Crowe), Kaczynski’s troubled past resurfaces decades later when his manhunt, led by FBI agent Joanne Miller (Woodley), brings to light the chilling consequences of ambition and isolation.

Rated R for adult language

UNABOMBER | Official Trailer | Netflix

POSITIVES

For as counterproductively hindering as this movie’s overall execution constantly feels, its stagnant ambition allows the couple of endearing aspects to stand out all the more effectively, specifically the performances surrounding Tremblay’s Ted Kaczynski, who appraise presence and legitimacy to a film that feels so desperately thirsty for them. I’m of course talking about the merited work from Russell Crowe, Shailene Woodley, and even Anabelle Wallis, who despite the material constantly undercutting their Herculean efforts with shallow characterization, conjure enough meaningful psychology and personality to the air of their distinguishing deliveries that boosts the film’s appeal like a much-needed shot of adrenaline whenever they’re shuffled back into the fray of focus, specifically Crowe, whose nuanced sensibilities seamlessly emulate a parental figure of sorts to Kaczynski that is simultaneously driven by his convictions as he is burdened by his opportunistic impulses. Because of such, Crowe bestows an influentially imposing stature to the perception of Ted, that is made complex by the underlining truth of his program’s intentions, and though it’s far from the very best of Crowe performances over the last twenty-five years, it still feels like a breath of fresh air to a film that is suffocated by the unsubtlety of Tremblay’s egregious leading turn, leaving me wishing that the film was more about his character than the generational killer that it directly centers around. While this is undeniably Crowe’s showcase for the taking, Woodley’s perseverance throughout the more compelling side of this movie’s dual timelines is just as vital to the driving force of the narrative, enacting a stoically strong and fearlessly resilient agent who is determined to follow the breadcrumbs that predecessors often overlooked, with Woodley’s intensity during physical and emotional confrontations encompassing every ounce of the adaptability that recently earned her a much-deserved Emmy award. Beyond the majority of the performances rising to the occasion, the cinematography from Yves Belanger is most integral in visually deciphering which side of the aforementioned dual timelines that the movie is corresponding from, where Belanger uses contrasting color grading to flesh out unmistakable transparency, even long before any of the characters to that specific timeframe are shown on film to relieve our concerning curiosity. While the editing has a field day of abruptly transitioning during spontaneously unforeseen moments to the storytelling, scattering our perceptions without anything replicating consistency, Belanger’s texturally deviating grip never withers in the depths of the long-term experience, and with a widescreen 2.35:1 scope of an aspect ratio, the cinematographer is able to enamor with a gently glowing presentation during the younger age of Ted’s arc, radiating with meaningful framings that occasionally conveys insight into the comfortability for Ted in finally finding a place where he belongs.

NEGATIVES

As terribly as this movie wants to be David Fincher’s Zodiac, it’s a lot closer to Daniel Farrands films like The Murder of Nicole Brown Simpson or The Haunting of Sharon Tate, for how it trivializes the backstory of these larger-than-life killers so unsubtly that it feels like a superhero antagonist’s origin story, specifically in the laughably unnatural ways that it attempts to contextualize Kaczynski’s backstory by making him a victim of his own intelligence. It’s not enough that Janus Metz’s direction leaves no cinematic trope unturned in the ways he constantly presents his protagonist to the audience, however it’s a lot worse when he seeks empathy from the character’s unrelenting vulnerability and gawking awkwardness, especially considering that this is the same cold-blooded killer who murdered three people and injured twenty-three more with terroristic explosives. It does eventually cross a point of no return where the character’s morality has become compromised by humility, but even in that explored direction, it evokes societal influence to justify Ted’s unrelenting angst, and as a result presents this inescapably icky feeling surrounding Metz’s efforts that makes it feel like this film shouldn’t have been made in the first place, especially considering there’s no kind of meaningful pay-off throughout Sam Chalsen and Nelson Greaves audaciously fragmented screenplay. While Unabomber is far from the first film to utilize dual timelines converging towards an intended destination, the rapid fire editing transitions completely obliterate the sequencing of the movie’s structure, in turn making it feel like two distinctly different movies that are constantly persisting at once, and with already so much about the film’s introduction making the youthful side of Ted’s coming-of-age narrative feel like it begins already in progress, there’s no kind of alluring link to hook audiences into what about this character makes him such a compelling presence worthy of psychological dissection, especially considering so much about the characterization balances frivolously between undercooked and non-existent. While the former certainly resonates with Ted, often taking him from a shyly uncomfortable dweeb one second to an angrily unrelenting adversary the next, the latter pertains more Woodley’s Joanne or Wallis’ Christiana, two prominent leading ladies who are subjugated frustratingly to thankless material that values them merely as devices meant to push Ted’s plot forward, instead of feeling like a tangible essence worthy of individualized development. The script also feels conflicted by a 92-minute runtime that isn’t nearly enough to tell convey the extensive backstory of Kaczynski’s reign of terror over multiple decades, or even the valuable bond between Ted and his baby brother that eventually comes into play during the movie’s climax, and as a result of so much breezily brisky storytelling, it forces the dialogue to coherently fill in the blanks whenever a noticeably speculative answer lingers slightly out of reach for the audience, allowing these conversations to transpire so artificially that they feel telegraphed. It’s the kind of dialogue that attempts to shoe-horn as much about the contextual character as possible, in order to evade the effort of experiencing it in real time, and while that might appeal to the wandering minds of audiences who are already uninfluenced by rushed storytelling, it ultimately maintains its inability to allow us to live and transpire within this established world-building, matching the dimensionality of its titular protagonist accordingly with flatlining material that squanders any semblance of foundation building opportunity. Even Metz doesn’t effectively evade the lions share of the movie’s blundering blame, as the entirety of his dwindling direction is executed with a complete lack of tension and urgency over sequences that should feel effortlessly enriched with them, but instead come across as resoundingly flat in the most dejecting ways to audience interpretation. Considering that Metz is the very same man who helmed 2022’s All the Old Knives, an auspicious-but-insipid conventionalized action flick, it’s clear that he’s learned very little from his past mistakes, particularly in his inability to prolong and stage the intensity of anxious environments, and with the snowball effects of his enacted direction clumsily culminating in a contentious climax of exasperated momentum and minimalized memorability, it keeps a movie about one of America’s biggest terrorists free from a way to boil its stakes at scintillating temperatures, courtesy of Metz never finding a firm grip on the igniting of the combustible material. Of course, even if Metz’s direction was up to task, it wouldn’t matter when Jacob Tremblay’s overzealous performance as Ted Kaczynski fails to evoke the volatile menace of the dangerous psychopath, leaving so many of his exaggerated emotional deliveries floundering on vocal cracking and wide-eyed expressions that feel more like a temperamental teenager rather than a devastating domestic terrorist. As much as it pains me to unload venomously on a child performer who I once felt was worthy of an Oscar nomination for his stellar work in 2015’s Room, the years clearly haven’t been too kind to Tremblay, as his unconvincing tragic miscasting here conjures melodramatic hilarity during key moments of vulnerability for the character, and while Tremblay is already unfairly handicapped by the script’s frequently optioned cliche-heavy writing, the actor’s lack of imposing stature or manifested grit condemns the portrayal immediately upon arrival, cementing a career-confining performance for Tremblay that should inspire him to fire his agent.

OVERALL
Unabomber fizzles like the most laughably bad true crime installments to the overstuffed subgenre, with everything from flatlining direction, to fragmented storytelling, to a Razzie ready performance from Jacob Tremblay staking its reputable claim for yearly infamy. While Netflix has preconditioned these kinds of experiences, there’s a level of remarkability to the tone-deaf morality of the material that astounds with audacity, leaving this blundering bomb buried by blame that is nearly unanimously shared amongst everyone associated with it.

My Grade: 3.6 or F