In the intriguing mystery thriller, "The Order," directed by Justin Kurzel, features Jude Law as the scruffy FBI Agent Terry Husk, who simply looks like a worn-down version of himself. Coming from the East, Husk seems to be having quite the life as he struggles with a shopped lifestyle of poor posture, full beard, and even the gum he chews has turned to dust. All of a sudden, Bob arrives in the delightful town of Coeur D’ Alene, Idaho, where he intends to investigate for a ‘mysterious disappearance’. As you would have guessed, Bob is the archetype of a “desolate sherriff cut off from the family and drowning in self-loathing,” and The Order: For His Last Wish does not fail to set fruitful expectations. From the opening mention, it is clear that Bob has some intense determination preserved for this particular case.
Given the town he is exploring, it isn’t long before he starts looking for a link between the murder and bank robberies with remote-controlled bombs hidden around the town. With unhidden enthusiasm, jumping from one foot to another, local officer Jamie Bowen (Tye Sheridan), brings him up to speed with the newly build Aryan nation Prison Camp just a few miles out the city.
The film's portrayal of rural cults might remind some viewers of “True Detective,” but such assumptions are far too simplistic. The female killer from the first season of "True Detective" seems to almost exist in a legend herself with how elusive she is. In contradiction, the gang in Kurzel's film is disturbingly tangible and terrifyingly present. Just like today’s white supremacists, they have become accustomed to openly expressing their hatred rather than voicing their ideologies from concealed places. Young men like Bob Matthews (Nicholas Hoult) are more than willing to step out of the shadows of their predecessors, aiming to forcibly impose a new world order.
With “The Order,” I am often reminded of “The True History of the Kelly Gang” by Kurzel, which features distant landscapes of haunting beauty captured by DP Adam Arkapaw’s stunning photography. That film partnered the austere Australian terrain with the fierce spirit of anti-colonial outlaws. In “The Order,” however, these outlaws, in spite of their convictions, are not nearly as principled. Their bigotry festers on the outskirts of the country, and that sense of alienation only makes their attempts to push eastward in an effort to overthrow the government more desperate.
The film opens in 1983 alongside the aggressive antics of Jewish Colorado talk radio host Alan Berg (Marc Maron), who consistently gets into slanderous shouting matches with antisemitic callers. Before long, Kurzel and editor Nick Fenton move us into a car where two friends are chauffeuring another colleague to his execution to a remote section of the woods. These two will later partner up with Matthews and another guy to do a brazen bank robbery. When Matthews returns to his house, his white shirt soaked in a red dye pack explosion, she waives no surprise. Rather, she beams, filled with joy and relief at the sight of a duffle bag bursting with cash.
Interestingly, Law’s Husk spends a significant portion of the two-hour film off-screen. Rather, Kurzel follows Matthews as he attempts to carry out his plan, which is more intricate than it appears. This, however, creates a dramatic problem. Matthews is simply a zealot with very little texture, at least psychologically, beneath the surface. Hoult doesn’t exaggerate Matthews; instead, he plays a grounded and relatable messiah figure who is surprisingly down to earth for his fans. The gang’s most compelling moments aren’t with the group who all highlight how little substance there is to that dynamic, but instead with Law.
This isn’t the most jarring truth, as the remarkable parts of the film usually center on Law. Jurnee Smollett, as Joanne Carney, her fellow FBI agent, puts in a strong supporting effort alongside a committed Sheridan. While Law's side seems more stoic, the other two actors fill their roles with qualities that accentuate Husk's inner conflict. Still, another kind of energy comes when Law and Hoult are together. They both play men who are practically destined to live alone; their similarities enable them to expect each other's next moves. They perform in a manner that encapsulates this bond, even down to their socially awkward chuckles that, despite being awkward, reveal how pliant they are in different contexts.
The film’s physical features poignantly capture the cat-and-mouse relationship. The history-wrapped sweat and love scents ooze from rough neon-slathered pubs and wood-lined interiors. Set in the past, these places reveal the characters’ internal conflicts. For example, Matthews dreams of being a family man, but has to fight the magnetic pull of the cold, metallic military-grade weapons warehouse, and Husk attempts to purge regret from his mornings in a creek nearby. Sometimes, the film’s grounding details are mixed with the adrenaline Matthews’ crew and him partake in during the heists, like when the camera pulled back in a tracking shot so immaculately crafted it brought me to the hyper-focused feeling I experienced during the long, complex shot in “True Detective.”
Unlike “The Order”, most investigative documentaries do seek to exploit distasteful shocking features related to crimes. Rather, order maintains conviction, approach, atmosphere, rhythm, and does not aim to agitate, but rather gradually introduce one to the voids that Husk himself feels. Thus, it dismantles emotionally powerful defenses.
