A young woman takes a double shift out of pity, and her reward is a mysterious phone number. The number leads her toward an opportunity for easy money, the kind that is not so legal and only desperate people would take. Maybe she thinks it’s a temporary thing, except there is a thrill to getting away with it she cannot deny. This potent mix of danger and necessity is what informs Emily the Criminal, an involving thriller that succeeds through realism and a commanding lead performance from Aubrey Plaza.
Before Emily takes the easy money, we see her in a job interview. She is courteous, maybe a little blunt, a byproduct of her New Jersey upbringing that stands out in Los Angeles. The interviewer asks about her arrests, so she mentions the DUI from college. Writer and director John Patton Ford is not exactly subtle about the subtext: Emily knows her record is a death sentence, stopping her career dead in its tracks. That’s why the phone number is so appealing. There is no judgment from Youcef (Theo Rossi), an enterprising thief who gives Emily $200 for participating in light credit card fraud, and he is up-front about what he expects. More importantly, he sees potential in her because she is tough and thinks on her feet, so he has her undertake bigger risks and work more independently. In a weird way, she finds herself in a growth industry, with Rossi as a slickly charming mentor.
Plaza’s mere presence might suggest Emily the Criminal has moments of comedy or irony, but her performance is wholly dramatic. As Emily, Plaza squares her jaw and tightens her body, suggesting a constant state of readiness and anxiety (she also produced the film). What makes it all so compelling is how Emily takes more and more control of her situation. When she first uses a fake ID to steal a flatscreen TV, she barely makes it out of the store before falling to pieces.
By mid-film, she is able to fend off shakedowns from would-be tough guys who think they can get the better of her. This is not a drama about a vast criminal underworld, but ordinary people with ordinary dreams who see no other alternative. Some of them are more dangerous than others, and with shrewd bravado, Emily surmises there is nothing stopping her – except maybe force of will – from becoming dangerous like them.
The more cutting, concurrent parallel story involves Emily’s persistent desire to have a successful career. Ford’s script has a plausible sense of anger, and enough details to remain convincing: when Emily loses a couple shifts at a catering gig, her boss flat-out tells her he doesn’t need to give a shit because she’s an independent contractor, not an employee. Emily sees an opportunity with Liz (Megalyn Echikunwoke), a childhood friend who represents the upwardly-mobile life she could have led, and it ends with yet another job interview where Emily (justifiably) loses all her patience. White collar success is not possible without abundant disposable income, so in a sense crime is more honest.
Suspense sequences, however, are what elevate the material beyond its didactic intro to become a criminology treatise. There is a bravura scene where Emily attempts to steal a car with a cashier’s check and a phony credit card, and we know from Youcef’s training she will have about eight minutes before the seller learns the scam, a shrewd way to add a ticking clock. Tension escalates slowly but inexorably, leading to a brief but intense car chase. In this scene and another where Emily has her stash nearly stolen, Ford adds a sense of realism by making sure we understand Emily’s entire choice and thought process. How would Emily stop a dangerous man pursuing her in a car? What kind of attitude does she need to be intimidating? By pretending to be tough, Emily becomes tough, and through Plaza’s performance that transition is seamless.
Photo courtesy of Roadside Attractions
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