The stare burns hard and clean, with an undercurrent of malice that you’d be a fool to miss. And then there’s another man, also with cold eyes, who gives off the stink of unmet expectations, marital dysfunction and alcohol. The first character, the real-life white supremacist Robert Jay Mathews, is played by Nicholas Hoult, itself a surprise when you consider the actor’s overall likability, something he hasn’t been able to shake since his cherubic turn in 2002’s “About a Boy.”
But it’s this momentary performance, that of a bumbling FBI agent named Terry Husk, that leaves you speechless, because it’s Jude Law, who becomes darker than ever. “There’s something about you, coming here, having those discussions with the children,” a mother tells Husk at a party where he has already had several beers. “I don’t like it,” he concludes. You scare me. ” It’s a user he encounters a little, but what he feels is enough.
“The Order” is about these two taciturn men coming face to face, told with a pared-down tension that, decades ago, made stars out of actors like Charles Bronson. It’s also about a string of brutal 1980s heists and the murder of Jewish radio talk-show host Alan Berg (Marc Maron) that coalesced in the minds of investigators as not the work of run-of-the-mill criminals but something far more dangerous and insidious — the coordinated expressions of a hate group inspired by racial animus, trying to bring about a revolution.
Australian director Justin Kurzel has always had a comfortable place for sadness, and his new film probably won’t fool you with that characterization. Still, through a pragmatic script through Zach Baylin (based on a narrative called “The Silent Brotherhood”). through Kevin Flynn and Gary Gerhardt), Kurzel, just as David Fincher did with “Zodiac,” discovered a magnifying glass for his gifts. The harsh image-making and performative ferocity of what may have simply been a mystery crime in an almost metaphysical confrontation.
It’s quite conceivable that you haven’t heard much about “The Order,” which was made in Canada and debuted as one of the least glamorous films at this year’s Venice Film Festival, despite its star force and overall excellence. This is obvious, even if it is a little worrying. There is a direct line between the Idaho hate organization in this film and the Oklahoma City bombing and the January 6, 2021, attack on the U. S. Capitol. Card calls this incident what it was, an insurrection. )
Kurzel presents the iconography of America’s off-the-grid militia members — flags, swastikas, flyers in bars inviting the curious to meetings — with admirable straightforwardness. The ideas are extreme enough. Most eye-opening are the crude drawings from an early edition of 1978’s “The Turner Diaries,” a red-covered, FBI-flagged book that basically functions as a six-step guide for murderous governmental overthrow.
Veteran actor Victor Slezak’s chilling, soft-spoken purr as neo-Nazi minister Richard Butler brings a certain conventionality to the film, but his presence is imperative to demonstrating the strength of Hoult’s grittier Mathews, a more youthful figure in the film. Get up and don’t be afraid to call for action. “Defeat, never, victory forever,” she sings with men (and, usually, they are men, it must be said). The gentle indirect afternoon gives its ascent a terrifying, unearthly glow.
However, “The Order” in the end is not about words but about force of personality. This is perhaps the greatest existing film of the season. Don’t let Husk’s redemption fool you. Kurzel ends on a note of vigilance, the goal in sight, the paintings having barely begun.
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