LA is the city of dreams, both broken and fulfilled, in director Bart Layton’s crime thriller “Crime 101.” From “The Incomer” to “American Animals,” Layton’s films have always focused on grifters, con men, and everyone in between; characters who try to find opportunities provided to them by human oversight and error. Even while he uses the glittery, gritty, and grimy lights of LA to heightened effect, his “Crime 101” is refreshingly grounded, focusing on the personal and professional lives of a master thief (Chris Hemsworth), police detective (Mark Ruffalo), and insurance broker (Halle Berry), and the ways their complicated lives intersect.
“These characters are people who are trapped by the choices that they’ve made, and a lot of those choices are dictated by the pressure to have money and status,” Layton shared. It’s thrilling to witness the ways their stories intersect and diverge throughout the film, the ducking and weaving mirroring the motion of speeding through LA traffic.
Before speaking with Layton in person, “Crime 101” was pre-screened in Chicago to a packed theater. Layton shared in a Q&A with Michael Philips that it was the first time an audience had seen the film in a premium format, and thanked everyone for being gracious (albeit unwilling) guinea pigs.
The next day, Barton spoke with RogerEbert.com at the St. Regis Chicago and thoughtfully skewered the LA wellness culture, shared how his documentary skills influenced his approach to narrative features, and discussed how his early interest in visual art shaped the incorporation of art pieces into the film.
This conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.
You give a lot of screen time to people in the film getting ready and “suiting up” for the day. What fascinates you about depicting people in the throes of preparation?
It all comes down to character. I think: what’s the most economical way of telling an audience all they need to know about someone without necessarily spelling it out explicitly for them, and doing this in a way that feels not only compelling, but also drives the story and builds tension and anticipation. Some of those routines that I developed were more specific than others. With Halle, we discussed how when we first met Sharon, she was not wearing a shred of makeup. If you’re Halle Berry, that’s a big thing to ask.
She was on board with it because she understood what I wanted to do with that character. In the next scene, where we see Sharon put on her makeup, it’s as if she’s putting on war paint. She’s operating within a system where she has to compromise some of her principles, whether it’s wearing makeup that lightens her skin or wearing an outfit that shows off her boobs really prominently. She’s operating in a male-dominated world where she’s being used and slightly exploited. She’s not totally comfortable, but she’s been forced to deal with that, and her routine is her trying to transform herself before she goes out into the world, a way to sort of get used to how she has to compromise, and internalize that she’s being used as bait.
With Chris’s and Mark’s characters, it’s also about communicating tone. When you see Chris getting ready, you know he’s up to no good, and you also know that he has a methodical process. At the end of that montage, there’s a crosscutting shot also with Mark and Chris, where for a beat, you don’t know who is who. They’re not dissimilar in many ways.
Mentally, I’m still thinking about how you and Cinematographer Erik Wilson captured the specks of dry skin falling off of Chris’ body and how you all bathed that sequence in these vibrant blues. One of the first films you worked on, the TV movie “Becoming Alexander,” was about a character undergoing an intense season of preparation, so these scenes in “Crime 101” were seemingly an extension of that earlier fascination.
(Laughs) That might have been the second thing I’ve ever made. I’m all about the detail. I do a massive amount of preparation before a project. I think showing that suggests building a sense of tension and expectation towards something about to happen. As an audience member, I think that’s a nice feeling to have in the cinema. That feeling of “I don’t know where we’re going, but I know we’re in good hands, and I know it’s going to be exciting.”
Sharon’s meditation app is also a recurring voice that serves as a kind of spirit haunting the film. How did you arrive at utilizing that particular permutation of meditation app? It feels very LA-coded …
There’s this woman who runs a very successful app called Boho Beautiful. She’s the real deal. I was interested in building a sense of what the stereotypical LA existence is like. In LA, there’s a real prevalence of wellness culture and a sense that you should have everything: looks, wealth, beauty, and money. All of that is part of this illusion of the “perfect LA existence.” I wanted to demonstrate that both visually and sonically. I certainly think that kind of meditative affirmation, where you’re being told that success is your divine right, is very LA-specific.
In the opening, I’m still thinking about the line where the voice says: “You hold the power to create all that you desire out of nothing.” There’s a mythological, almost spiritual significance.
There’s this idea that permeates that all these mantras about success create false expectations, that somehow if you don’t have the trappings of wealth and success, then maybe you’re failing on some level. These characters are trapped by the choices they’ve made, many of which are driven by the pressure to have money and status. That voice is part of the LA wellness myth.
Chris Hemsworth’s Mike sums it up well: when you don’t have money, your options are limited. The aggregation of capital is really a means to an end to increase your options.
These characters have reached a point where they realize that becoming overly concerned about what other people think can get in the way of their own goals.
He’s imperfect, but that’s why Ruffalo’s character, Lou, stands in contrast to the people around him who are all striving for “more.” He’s this foil where he’s willing to remain content when the voices around him are telling him to desire more.
At the same time, though, his character is also feeling the pressure of the fact that he’s not getting rewarded for being a public servant, so even for him, he’s being corrupted by the message of “This is what you need to do to be a success.” It all starts with the meditation app.
A cursed soundtrack to our existence. You’re from South London, and what’s striking about this film is that it’s such an LA-specific story. Even the “101” is a fun double entendre, referencing the highway. Do you think being an outsider and not a part of the LA machine enabled you to comment on its foibles more truthfully?
I definitely think it’s easier to observe certain cultural specifics if you haven’t grown up in a place. I love LA, but I also have an awareness of how much anxiety that city can generate and how that anxiety affects you. If I go on holiday anywhere else, I don’t think twice about what kind of car I’m hiring, right? I’m probably going for the cheapest one. If I go to LA, though, I’m thinking, “Wow, if I rock up in a really shit car, are people going to judge me, and are they going to see me in a way that I don’t want?” I am aware of how some cultural pressures affect the psyche. You observe things differently as an outsider, or you at least look twice at things other people don’t even consider.
Jude Law said something similar when I spoke with him for “The Order.” The irony wasn’t lost on him that he, a Brit, and director Justin Kurzel, an Aussie, were the ones telling a story about white supremacy in America.
My good friend, Nick Fenton–who also edited “American Animals”—edited “The Order.” I haven’t had a chance to see it yet. With this film, while it is a love letter to LA, there are hopefully some observations and suggestions that make you question the illusion, in some respects, of having everything. These are people trying to get at something that doesn’t exist. It feels like everyone has everything, but that’s not necessarily true. There’s this Arthur Miller quote in Death of a Salesman where Willy Loman’s character says that the fatal flaw of everyone operating in a capitalist society is that people get their self-worth not from within, but from what other people think about them. That was very much in dialogue with this film.
Keeping on that love letter note, Chris had mentioned on a podcast that this was filmed pre-fires and that some of the locations featured in the film aren’t even there anymore. How are you processing this idea that your film exists as proof for some places that these locations existed?
Yes, I mean tragically, those places, especially in the Palisades, shockingly, are no longer there. I’m honestly still processing and trying to understand that the last time I was in those locations, we were filming certain spots, but now they’re gone.
You’ve talked previously about how the highest aim of documentary filmmaking is truth-telling. With fiction, you’re manufacturing the truth to some extent. I’m curious what it was like to go against some of those instincts you initially cultivated, or if you felt those philosophies clash?
No, it’s a really good question. I never felt those instincts clashing, but if there’s anything that has served me well from being a documentary maker, it’s that sense of not letting go of the real world, of not wanting to make a movie that you are no longer really emotionally connected to, because the characters become movie tropes, the situations become movie clichés, and the car chases don’t feel reel. I never want what I make to feel part of some heightened reality.
What I try to bring from the doc space is this idea of not suspending disbelief. I love that when you watch a documentary with a big group of people–particularly in a theater–they are so invested because they’re not suspending disbelief. They know that whatever happens in this story really happened. So what I’m trying to do is bring some of that authenticity to my narrative features, while still delivering what you want from a fun night out at the cinema.
It’s not lost on me either that at least four of the actors you’ve assembled–Chris, Mark, Halle, and Barry–have appeared in superhero films. You’ve previously spoken about how you were excited for people to see Chris embody a more vulnerable protagonist in Mike, which stands in contrast to the hero types he’s played. How consciously were you thinking about deconstructing the audience’s relationships with these actors, particularly those whom we may have seen in a more heroic, unblemished light?
It’s funny because I’m not a big superhero fan–although when I was a kid, “Superman” was my favorite movie of all time–so I never really thought about it. It wasn’t until the trailer came out and everyone commented, “Whoa, you have Thor, the Hulk, Joker, and Storm,” that I became more aware. I’m ashamed to admit I’ve not seen some of these films.
Hopefully, for fans of those franchises, it will be fun to see familiar actors in a different universe. I think it was interesting watching Mark and Chris come together on set in a very different environment. They got quite nervous around each other because they were both on set as real actors. If you’re going toe-to-toe with Mark Ruffalo in a very dramatic scene, and you’re Chris Hemsworth, you’re going to bring your absolute A-game.
Both of your parents are artists, and at one point, you considered pursuing painting or sculpture before your pivot to moviemaking. I’m struck by the art pieces you feature here, particularly in Monroe’s (Tate Donovan) house. I’d love to give you space to talk about the art you chose to feature in the film and its significance, not just to the story but to your love for visual art.
Back to your earlier question, I was trying to find a shorthand to help us get to know our characters. Monroe is a guy for whom art is an investment commodity. He’s chosen slightly inappropriate and culturally insensitive pieces to have prominently displayed in his house, which tells you something about who he is. I have a friend, Ossian Ward, an art historian, whom I roped into helping me curate all the art because I wanted Monroe to have things he shouldn’t have in his house.
There’s that famous painting called Thérèse Dreaming, which is of this prepubescent girl in a slightly inappropriate kind of pose where you can see her underwear and all the rest of it, and yet he’s oblivious to it. He’s also got the Gauguin paintings. There’s also obviously the painting of the Black washing woman. This was all in service of painting a picture of the beginning of Halle’s journey and the struggles she faces. The very first thing we see her do is suppress her emotions and bite her lip in the presence of this guy, from whom she needs something.
The art is not intended to necessarily make you dislike Monroe expressly, but to paint a sense of what might make Halle crack. You’ve seen her put on clothing that reveals her plunging neckline, you’ve seen her put on her war paint, and now she’s dealing with this guy who’s moving too close to her and making her fire a gun, and now she has a painting of this Black slave. The only thing Monroe can say about the painting is, “This will go up in value.” All of those things are supposed to be the kind of beginnings of the stepping stones for her character, getting to a point where she’s going to say, “Fuck it, I’m not going to do this anymore.”
“Crime 101” opens in theaters on February 13th from Amazon MGM Studios.