How to Make a Killing

Development of a rooting interest in How to Make a Killing depends in part on your moral tolerance for a guy who probably murdered his family members who mostly deserved it anyway.

A spoiler alert isn’t necessary, because when we first meet Becket Redfellow (Glen Powell), he’s merely hours away from his execution on Death Row.

While it doesn’t take itself too seriously, however, this dark comedic thriller feels familiar rather than provocative in its morally ambiguous takedown of socioeconomic inequality, specifically targeting the 1 percent.

While consuming his last meal behind bars, Becket explains his circumstances to a patient and bewildered priest (Adrian Lukis). Becket’s sardonic narration accompanies flashbacks detailing how he was basically disowned by his obscenely wealthy New York family as a child, and lived the blue-collar struggle instead.

Due to inherit a portion of the family fortune with seven estranged cousins — the insufferable sorts who jump from a helicopter into a backyard swimming pool while throwing big bills like confetti — Becket plots a scheme to get rich and get revenge.

As he visits them one by one, Becket must navigate some FBI suspicion, familial infighting, and an ex-girlfriend (Margaret Qualley) who wants a piece of the action.

“I had enough confidence to know that not only can you get away with murder, you can get rewarded for it,” he explains while trying to justify his own ambitions.

The noir-infused screenplay by director John Patton Ford (Emily the Criminal) satirizes suburban affluence through the type of greedy and manipulative characters who try to either prove or disprove the adage that money can’t buy happiness.

The breezy film fails to yield much sympathy for its antihero, unless you count that he’s less annoying than all of his relatives by default. Powell (The Running Man) captures the various shades of a man who’s clever and calculating, yet also charming and naïve.

The supporting roles are mostly disposable, which seems appropriate, except perhaps for a scene-stealing turn by the esteemed Ed Harris that ramps up the intrigue in the final act.

Beneath the surface laughs, though, the film lacks the underlying tension of a whodunit or the narrative guile of its protagonist to elevate the emotional stakes. How to Make a Killing never feels sufficiently grounded in reality enough to resonate beyond its persistent quirks.

Rated R, 105 minutes.