Locked (United States, 2025)

Locked, David Yarovesky’s English-language remake of the 2019 Argentinian thriller 4x4, comes equipped with a simple premise: a petty criminal, while attempting to steal a luxury vehicle, becomes trapped inside when he triggers its aggressive and complex security system. Although that concept might seem a little thin for a feature film (it is), there are certainly actionable possibilities for tension embedded in the idea, especially once it’s revealed that the owner of the car is a sadist who can see everything that happens inside the SUV and revels in toying with the would-be thief. Alas, the disappointingly straightforward screenplay drags things out too long, relies on banal, rambling dialogue, and offers little in the way of twists or turns. And Yarovesky’s direction often fails to lean into the inherent claustrophobia of the situation while failing to generate sufficient suspense from the cat-and-mouse game engaged in by Eddie (Bill Skarsgard) and William (Anthony Hopkins).

The moral of the story: crime doesn’t pay. Or at least it doesn’t for Eddie, who spends roughly 80 minutes of the film’s 95-minute running time trapped inside William’s armor-plated tank of a vehicle. Once in, there’s no way out. The windows are one-way mirrors: Eddie can see out but no one can see in. They are also bullet-proof, rendering the criminal’s gun useless. Cell service has been disabled but there’s a communication system that allows William to watch and talk to Eddie. Later, we learn that the elder gentleman can also remote-control the car with remarkable precision.

It's a fair question to ask whether Locked might have been more enjoyable if either of the characters had been even a little likeable. Eddie is a total loser – a deadbeat dad whose parenting skills are on par with his ability to hold down a legitimate job. His few redeeming qualities are well-concealed and he most definitely is not the brightest bulb in the package. William, on the other hand, may have a calm, cultured voice but his dulcet tones hide a devious, deviant mind. He’s a nasty piece of work who baits the trap then uses it to torture and torment Eddie.

I’d say there’s about 45-50 minutes of potentially engaging material in this screenplay; that forces the filmmakers to add another 45 minutes of padding. Most of the extraneous material is comprised of repetitious sequences in which Eddie attempts to tear apart the inside of the car or where William rambles on about nothing and everything. The movie is in desperate need of some pithy interplay. (Eddie’s contributions to their conversations don’t go much beyond dropping the f-bomb.)

On a certain level, I was reminded of Joel Schumacher’s 2002 film Phone Booth, which trapped Colin Ferrell in a phone booth for about 75 minutes. Some of the same elements are in play: a lunatic with a grudge who is primarily just a disembodied voice, a constricted space, and an escalation of the cat-and-mouse games. Phone Booth succeeded, however, because Schumacher understood the underlying tenets of a Hitchcockian refrigerator movie and applied them with aptitude. Yarovesky, on the other hand, founders. Even during the climax, the movie never gets exciting or edgy. We keep waiting for some kind of surprise twist that will make everything worthwhile, but there’s nothing. Even when William finally appears in the flesh, it’s a letdown, and the movie doesn’t get us to care enough to look past the obvious, ever-widening plot holes.

The performances are solid, with Bill Skarsgard getting to act without being buried under makeup and Hopkins relying mostly on his recognizable voice. One wishes that when he finally shows up, he would lean a little more into his Hannibal Lecter personality. The antagonism between the two often feels manufactured and it’s hard to perceive Eddie as a victim even when the movie uses his young daughter in a shameless attempt at manipulation. (Something I found profoundly distasteful.)

Making a movie with this many constraints is a daunting task that should only be attempted by someone with a crystal-clear vision and a skill for wringing tension out of an inherently hard-to-swallow situation.  Yarovesky, whose resume includes the misfire Brightburn, has apparently bitten off more than he can chew. The seeds of a nice little white-knuckle thriller are evident but they never germinate properly. The end result is profoundly disappointing and can’t be saved by the few individual moments that do work.

Locked (United States, 2025)