Sicario

“Sicario” translates to “Hitman” from Spanish. As a film, it could just as easily translate to “roller coaster.” For as slick as the editing, score and cinematography surely are, there’s an edge and a darkness to “Sicario” that permeates through the entire production.

“Sicario” does what so many films like it don’t — it exposes the meat grinders without glorifying them. Yeah, Josh Brolin and Benicio Del Toro steal scenes as CIA agents, but we don’t root for them. We don’t really root for Emily Blunt’s wide-eyed, moral officer, either; but that’s for much the same reason it’s hard to root for the Philadelphia 76ers — it feels hopeless.

All the machinations of the drug trade, from the dirty cops to the good ones, are shown sympathetically. Entering Mexico feels dangerously tragic — going into a place where hope doesn’t live while acknowledging how much America has done to stamp it out. The war on drugs is exposed to the few moviegoers who still believe any good is being done.

Perhaps that’s what keeps us from buying into Brolin’s machismo. The “our methods work” line doesn’t work because his methods don’t, not really. “Sicario” exposes how the sausage is made, sure, but it also reminds us that it’s made with rotting meat.

From a filmmaking standpoint, Denis Villenueve does wonders with a talented cast and beautiful locations. Cinematographer Roger Deakins is at his best in both overhead pans and close-quarters combat. Everything about the film, which spends its entirety in drab offices and the frickin’ desert, pops.

“Sicario” is a sleek, beautiful knife that doesn’t sacrifice sharpness for its flash. Perhaps its greatest strength is that its beauty never distracts from its danger.

Rating: 4.5/5