When I first heard about How to Make a Killing, I was intrigued. A modern take on the ‘eat the rich’ trope? Sign me up. But after watching it, I’m left with a mix of disappointment and frustration. Personally, I think the film’s biggest sin isn’t its lack of originality—though it’s hard to ignore the heavy-handed nods to Kind Hearts and Coronets—but its inability to commit to its own moral ambiguity. What makes this particularly fascinating is how the film tries to straddle the line between dark comedy and social commentary, yet ends up feeling like a watered-down version of both.
One thing that immediately stands out is Glen Powell’s performance as Becket Redfellow. Powell, who’s proven himself capable of charm and depth in other roles, feels oddly restrained here. In my opinion, the character of Becket should be a morally complex antihero, someone who challenges the audience’s sympathies. Instead, he’s a bland, formless figure, neither likable nor despicable. This raises a deeper question: if a film about killing the wealthy for personal gain can’t even make its protagonist compelling, what’s the point?
What many people don’t realize is that the ‘eat the rich’ narrative has become a cultural touchstone in recent years, reflecting broader frustrations with wealth inequality. But How to Make a Killing fails to tap into this energy. Instead, it tries to sprinkle in moral righteousness, as if to say, ‘Don’t worry, he’s only killing bad rich people.’ From my perspective, this is a missed opportunity. If you take a step back and think about it, the film could have been a sharp critique of both the elite and the lengths people will go to join their ranks. Instead, it feels timid and unsure of its own message.
A detail that I find especially interesting is the character of Julia Steinway, played by Margaret Qualley. She’s easily the most captivating presence in the film, bringing a repressed mania that hints at deeper complexities. What this really suggests is that the supporting characters often outshine the lead, which is never a good sign. Qualley’s performance makes me wonder what the film could have been if it had leaned into its darker, more satirical elements instead of trying to soften the edges.
If there’s one thing this film gets right, it’s the casting of the wealthy archetypes Becket targets. From Raff Law’s nod to The Talented Mr. Ripley to Zach Woods’ self-proclaimed ‘white Basquiat,’ these characters are deliciously over-the-top. But here’s the problem: the film doesn’t seem to know what to do with them. They’re more like caricatures than fully realized figures, which feels like a wasted opportunity. In my opinion, the film could have used these characters to explore the absurdity of wealth and privilege in a more meaningful way.
What this film really lacks is a clear voice. It’s not dark enough to be a true black comedy, not sharp enough to be a social satire, and not emotional enough to be a family drama. If you take a step back and think about it, it’s trying to be all of these things at once, and the result is a muddled mess. Personally, I think director John Patton Ford was too afraid to take risks, opting instead for a safe, middle-of-the-road approach that ultimately fails to resonate.
In the end, How to Make a Killing feels like a missed opportunity. It opens with the bold declaration, ‘Money does buy happiness. We’re all adults here,’ but by the end, it’s filed its teeth down to nubs. What many people don’t realize is that the best dark comedies thrive on their willingness to go too far, to challenge the audience’s comfort. This film, unfortunately, never takes that leap. From my perspective, it’s a forgettable addition to the ‘eat the rich’ genre—one that neither entertains nor provokes in any meaningful way.
