Even though the film has come with more than its share of overcontroversy, it doesn't do much to earn that weight. Like the otherwise forgettable Seth Rogen/Evan Goldberg comedy The Interview, it wouldn't likely be associated with any serious political movement if not for the ridiculous rightwing campaign against it. Just like The Interview, The Hunt's real-life political context is far more significant than any message it has to offer. The themes about the divide between left and right in the Trump-era U.S. are about as complex as a JibJab video. The idea that any right- or left-winger would feel seen enough to be offended by this film--a "Most Dangerous Game" story about a group of cartoonishly reactionary working-class conservatives who are kidnapped and hunted by a band of elite liberals--is preposterous. The cynical and very easy message is that both these sides are stupid and we are all better than them. All too relatable in the social media world.
Twelve people awaken in a nature preserve and discover they're being hunted as prey. It doesn't take long to discover that the prey share a conservative ideology, ranging from the cosmopolitan to the conspiracy theorist. The early scenes, in which the hunted scramble to orient themselves and strategize to escape, are punctuated by some fun if facile moments that poke fun at the partisan presumptions of the conservative victims and their complacently liberal hunters. I was surprised to find that the credited writers were Nick Cuse and Damon Lindelof, both writers on HBO's Watchmen, a show that effectively balanced an action/suspense plot with real significant social commentary. The Hunt feels like a very sloppy first draft of that.
And then, in walks Betty Gilpin, and the clouds open. We assume at first that she's going to be the headstrong Final Woman who outsmarts everyone, which is sorta what she is, but there's more to the character than that, and most of it is in Gilpin's performance. This might have been a simplistic hero role in the hands of a less talented actor, but Gilpin's choices make the character--a participant of mysterious origin named Crystal--into a human person rather than a satirical target. She appears stoic and wooden at first, but look more closely and you'll see how she subtly portrays someone who's always thinking two or three moves ahead, and who's reluctant to let anyone from either side see her next move. It's the sort of performance that will make you want to watch the movie again to see what she's been doing all along.
Mostly because of Gilpin, the last two-thirds of the movie are significantly better than the setup. The supporting performances--I won't reveal the cast because the reveals are part of the fun--are amiably silly even if the writing fails them much of the time. Some of the easy punchlines do land, some are real groaners. The main villain, not revealed until the 3rd act, is played by an Oscar-winning actor who doesn't often appear in movies like this. At first we think, ho ho, what a surprise cameo. But then this person stays in the movie and goes on to show why they're there.
The moral of the story, I suppose, is to not judge a book by its cover: an easy message that Cuse and Lindelof flout by making all the characters except Gilpin's into caricatures who are book-covers all the way down. The other message, less obvious but no less ham-fisted, has to do with self-fulfilling assumptions: that the more we presume about our political opponents, the more likely they are to fulfill our judgments. It's the excuse that alt-righters make all the time: "Hey, the more you call me a racist, the more I'm gonna be a racist." The hunted--and later, we learn, the hunters--lean so far into the stereotype that they become it: the deplorables become deplorable. It's not a particularly astute observation, and so the movie isn't being as powerful as it thinks when it gives us a heroine who dares to be her own person. It falls completely upon Gilpin to bring any complexity to the role. But boy, does she do it.
*** out of ****
