Something’s up with the majority of post-COVID movies being in excess of 2 hours; I haven’t figured it out yet. “Reptile” is a half-decent cop thriller. If it was 1.5 hours instead of 2, it would be an excellent cop thriller.
The gravitas of Benicio del Toro can rescue just about anything, even his own writing. Del Toro co-wrote “Reptile,” and arranged a reunion with Alicia Silverstone, his co-star from the egregious “Excess Baggage” (1997), who, having reached middle age, can now do drama. He would appear to have also invited Josh Brolin’s wife Kathryn Boyd in for a cameo to kick-start her career.
What Goes On
Detective Tom Nichols (Del Toro) works to solve the brutal murder of a real estate agent. We don’t know much about the victim, who was stabbed to death while alone in a house she was preparing to show. The woman was young and pretty, with a tattoo running the length of her spine that looks like a motorcycle tread. Or a brick wall. Or something.Nichols’s boss, a world-weary police captain (Eric Bogosian) who is also the uncle of Nichols’s wife, arrives at the crime scene. Dialogue such as, “Get those people across the street, no press, I don’t want anyone talking to them—whadda we got?” “A dead realtor.” In other words, not scintillating. Subpar writing in need of rescuing by superior acting.
Suspects
The deceased’s live-in boyfriend, likewise a real estate agent (Justin Timberlake) is a shallow, cheating type with mommy issues. The victim’s ex-husband appears to not be quite out of her life yet. We learn next to nothing about him either, except that he likes to make “art projects” that incorporate hair he sneakily trims off the heads of unsuspecting women sitting on buses and such.
Meat of the Movie
Nichols and his police department colleagues work the case with much easygoing family atmosphere, barbecues, card games, and what not, and it’s all quite cozy. Until it’s not.
Overall
The mood’s right; noir-ish, grimy, and tension-filled, with generally overcast skies, but the soundtrack is off. It drones murderously, makes dramatic cliffhanger pauses, and uses jump-scare shock tactics—it’s basically trying to be a horror movie soundtrack in B-movie cop thriller, which is mildly irritating.A number of promising details are introduced and then abandoned, like the victim’s noteworthy tat, a molted snakeskin she finds behind a potted plant in the house before her death, leading us to go “Ah, yes! That would explain the title!” But nothing comes of it. There’s much ado about a cut on Nichols’s hand that’s treated with great mystery but turns out to be much ado about nothing.
However, when the camera focuses on Del Toro’s one-of-a-kind visage, the movie comes alive. Del Toro’s instincts as an actor always pack a punch. His face reflects numerous emotions rippling: anger, wariness, disappointment, moral quandaries, jaded resignation, heavy sighs, watchfulness, and love for his wife, to name a few. As mentioned, Del Toro’s looming presence compensates time and again, which it must, due to the fact that his writing’s a bit thin. Like I also said, were it an hour and a half, I’d give it 4 stars. At it’s current unwieldy length, it’s a 3-star.
