The Standoff at Sparrow Creek (2018, Henry Dunham) (Patreon)

51/100

Basically a right-wing militia remake of Reservoir Dogs with two Mr. Oranges. I'm a sucker for this sort of claustrophobic who's-the-rat? ensemble piece, especially one that showcases some ace character actors; it's hard to make a truly terrible movie once you've cast James Badge Dale and Chris Mulkey and Patrick Fischler (Winkie's dream dude) and Gene Jones (Chigurh's coin-toss caller). There was reason to hope for more, too, as first-time writer-director Henry Dunham initially creates a compelling dynamic among a group of loners who have little in common apart from hair-trigger paranoia. (Though Dunham's dialogue sometimes sounds like Aaron Sorkin attempting to be badass. "How many cops down total"? "Eighty, give or take." "Give or take how many?" "Well if I knew the answer to that I wouldn't have said give or take.") Alas, things take a decided swerve toward stupidity around the time that a previously mute cipher suddenly starts yapping up a storm—partly because it's the dramaturgical equivalent of sending the camera through a coffeepot's handle, but mostly because it calls undue attention to the sheer implausibility of the kid's previous wordless presence, which everyone had seemed to resent. (Did he join up via a series of handwritten notes, then refuse to ever jot down another?) Turns out that's the tip of the iceberg: There's a big twist, the nature of which I partially guessed about halfway through, and its full reveal makes no sense whatsoever; the mastermind laboriously explains his objective (surrounded by dozens of weirdly silent, motionless cops in full riot gear, evidently transfixed by this expository denouement), seemingly oblivious to the fact that a simple raid on the compound would likely have achieved the exact same result with far less risk. Makes all the psychological gamesmanship feel retroactively contrived. But Dunham successfully delayed the dopiness long enough for me to get sucked in, so credit for that, at least.