‘Mob Land’ Film Review

We’ve all seen that movie. A crime is proposed, no one will get hurt, and once the cash is effortlessly grabbed, everyone will live happily ever after. Unfortunately, the more crime-inclined partner will shoot off his gun and drag down the good, bad guy. A heavyweight always inflicted on us, the forces coalesce, and we have to settle for the justice that must be served. Mob Land with John Travolta serves up the familiar story but puts a compelling twist in the traditional unraveling. 

Shelby (Shiloh Fernandez) is the sorry figure we all pine for and looks like he has his hands full. A race car driver who has been diagnosed with Parkinson’s, Shelby’s financial prospects are in serious doubt. Not like he was tearing it up anyway, his property looks exactly like backwoods southern poverty and is reiterated by the scattered fragments of an already stagnant living.

Nonetheless, his rural good looks make him easy to root for and so does the manner in which the young man moves about. Shelby doesn’t fret, he accepts his surroundings and the diligence that Fernandez emotes asserts that his character will do whatever it takes for his family.

We see why when his daughter appears. Mila (Tia DiMartino) doesn’t walk into the scene, she’s just there, and we get the message. The little girl is part of the landscape and there’s plenty in this world to occupy her inquisitive mind.

So quick with the questions, DiMartino exudes a self-assuredness that gives a Dad a run for his money and leaves him at a loss to her precocious comebacks. At the same time, DiMartino’s little glances make up for the sleights and reveal how much she adores her father.

Mom (Ashley Benson) is a prize too. With unencumbered blonde hair and loose-fitting flannel, Benson brings an easy sway to her discourse and demeanor. In this, her character gyrates like amber waves of grain and decidedly puts presence over the old necessity of getting out.

The natural beauty almost settles the question. The encroaching greenery doing battle with the man-made disrepair, Nick Matthews cinematography is telling us that our main character would do best to take stock in what he has rather than what he wants.

Having gotten this far, he does, and Fernandez effortlessly sells the grounded morality of small town, working-class, America. That is until male pride, and Kevin Dillon shows up. Playing Trey, the brother-in-law, poor Dillon just looks like the guy always trying to find the shortcut and operates as if the road less certain is the right one.

In keeping, Dillon’s aura doesn’t disappoint. The actor’s passionate exasperation attempts to veil his criminal intent in a greater good rationalization, and Shelby is Dillon’s prey.

A wingman needed, a local health clinic is the target, and recouping the stash from flooding the community with OxyContin is Trey’s retainer. His pitch isn’t just directed at Shelby, though. Dillon’s well rehearsed monologue is a tell and comes off like he’s also trying to convince himself. No matter, Trey can’t overcome the internal duplicity that Dillon exudes, and the character becomes his own easy mark.

Conversely, Shelby does not have the deep character flaws of his brother-in-law. But the bills and the emasculation become too heavy and the family man reluctantly signs on.

Of course, Trey underestimates the complexities, and the New Orleans mob that backs the operation has more than scripts and stethoscopes at their disposal. Bang, bang, the job goes awry, and there’s nowhere to hide.

Except maybe inside the confines of the actual legal system, the shackles that Travolta offers as Sheriff Bodie Davis represents their best bet. Entrenched in the Bayou, the Hollywood icon is a long way from Vinnie Barbarino, and the performance forces us to remind ourselves how far.

A disbelief that begins with the drawl. Not too elongated, Travolta hits the right rural pitches and inflections and gives us down home by thoughtfully enunciating the dialogue. He also doesn’t rush through the police work.

The mess made by Shelby and Dillon, the forensics all around should spring the sheriff into overdrive. No need, Bodie assures his deputy, there’s nothing to do until the witnesses have recovered from their assault.

Forced to comply, we defer expediency to the patience that Travolta fills the screen with, which establishes a crucial baseline for the drama. No matter the speed of the evolving situation, the unfolding will move at the velocity of Bodie’s choosing, and experience tells him 0 MPH is what the odometer will read at the end.

Clayton (Stephen Dorff) may beg to differ, however. He’s the hitman sent to clean up the loose ends and moves at his own speed too. His methodical intervention gathers information, and he processes the facts and feelings like he has a philosophy degree in human nature.

So even though ruthless killer is included in the psychological profile, a latent streak of morality lurks just beneath. Therefore, the criminal closure he seeks is more a reckoning than a chase. Shelby is the target and is forced to confront the impact of his grossly irresponsible decision.

Collateral damage given a whole new meaning, we are helplessly ensnared by the web Clayton weaves for Shelby. On the other hand, it’s hard to argue with justice Clayton is inflicting, and while it’s the street kind, maybe the ever-present light can win the battle with the darkness that envelops this chilling figure.

Remarkably, the dichotomy that Dorff projects has us pining for Clayton too. Unfortunately, there’s too big a gap between damnation and salvation, and the dots don’t really connect by the time his denouement is reached. So we have no choice but to accept the good intentions of Mob Land - and full stop - take what we can from this film.

Mob Land is now in Theaters.