Bart Layton’s Crime 101 positions itself as a throwback to the kind of deliberate, character-driven crime thrillers that once dominated theaters. There’s a clear reverence for Michael Mann’s Heat in its cop-versus-criminal framework and patient, procedural rhythms, and shades of Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive in its portrait of a quiet, unknowable man living on the margins of society. The film has the bones of something compelling: a duel between a notorious jewel thief and the detective closing in on him, supported by a stacked ensemble and an atmosphere of simmering danger. But while the final act delivers flashes of what the film could have been, the road to get there is frustratingly slow, uneven, and often disconnected.

At its core, Crime 101 should be simple. Chris Hemsworth plays Mike Davis, a methodical criminal executing heists along California’s 101 freeway, while Mark Ruffalo’s detective Lou Lubesnick tries to crack his pattern before the next job. It’s a classic cat-and-mouse setup, one that thrives on tension, momentum, and the psychological interplay between hunter and hunted. Instead, the first hour unfolds like a collection of loosely arranged moments. Scenes happen, then other scenes happen, and then more scenes happen, without a strong sense of cause and effect binding them together. Rather than “this happens, therefore this happens,” the narrative often feels like a checklist of plot beats waiting to be connected.

That lack of propulsion makes the opening stretch feel far longer than it is. The film wants to luxuriate in atmosphere, surveillance footage, and character observation, but it doesn’t give the audience enough emotional or narrative investment to justify the patience it demands. When Hemsworth’s Mike commits his first on-screen crime, it lands with a shrug instead of a jolt. The film hasn’t given enough insight into who he is, what drives him, or what he risks losing. There are hints of a past and fragments of motivation, but they remain too vague to transform him into a compelling enigma.

Hemsworth’s performance reflects that restraint. He plays Mike as quiet, internal, and almost ghostlike—a far cry from the charismatic movie-star presence audiences typically associate with him. It’s an intentional choice, clearly inspired by the stoic antiheroes of older crime films, but the script doesn’t give him enough to work with. The result is a performance that feels muted rather than mysterious. More texture, more contradictions, and more glimpses beneath the surface were needed to make him fascinating instead of distant.

Ruffalo, meanwhile, settles comfortably into familiar territory as Det. Lubesnick. He’s played variations of this cop role before in Now You See Me, Collateral, Zodiac, and more recently in the HBO series Task, and he’s reliably good at it. The character becomes most interesting when the film leans into the corruption within the police force, hinting at systemic rot and personal compromise. Outside of those moments, though, much of his storyline boils down to the genre’s usual rhythms: studying surveillance, piecing together evidence, and delivering lines about how “something doesn’t add up.” It works, but it rarely surprises. Furthermore, the novelty of seeing Hemsworth and Ruffalo, the “friends from work” comic double act from Marvel’s Thor: Ragnarok, in this gritty crime drama isn’t used nearly to its full potential.

The film’s most glaring misstep comes in the form of Sharon Colvin’s storyline. Halle Berry plays the insurance broker with conviction, anchoring a subplot about the barriers aging women face in climbing the corporate ladder. It’s a worthwhile theme, and Berry gives it gravity, but it feels strangely detached from the rest of the movie. Its connections to the Hemsworth and Ruffalo storylines are tenuous at best, and the narrative keeps cutting away to it at moments when the central conflict is finally building momentum. Nowhere is that more jarring than in the final act, when the Mike-versus-Lubesnick dynamic reaches peak intensity only for the film to pivot to a subplot that never quite justifies its presence.

Similarly out of place is the romance between Mike and Maya (Monica Barbaro). The relationship lacks integration into the broader story and feels like an afterthought, as if it were introduced late in development to humanize the protagonist or satisfy a studio note. It doesn’t meaningfully shape Mike’s decisions or deepen the stakes of the central narrative, and its emotional beats arrive without the groundwork needed to make them resonate. Maya isn’t interesting enough of a character for us to latch onto, and her disappearance from a large stretch of the movie may leave viewers scratching their heads when she finally reappears later.

Where Crime 101 truly comes alive is whenever Barry Keoghan enters the frame. As Ormon, he injects volatility and unpredictability into a film that often feels overly controlled. He’s the loosest cannon in this minefield, a violent and unhinged presence who instantly raises the stakes. Every scene with him carries a sense that anything could happen, and that tension is something the rest of the film could have used more of. Keoghan’s performance is magnetic, pulling focus and energizing the story in ways the central plot sometimes struggles to achieve.

Despite its sluggish beginning, the film improves as it progresses. The final act, in particular, contains some genuinely gripping ideas and sequences. The cat-and-mouse dynamic finally sharpens, the stakes crystallize, and the themes of obsession and consequence begin to land. There’s a palpable sense of escalation, and for the first time, the story feels like it’s moving with purpose rather than drifting between plot points. It’s the best part of the movie by a wide margin, and a reminder of the stronger film that was always lurking beneath the surface.

Even so, the journey to that climax is difficult to overlook. For much of the first hour, the only moments that truly engage are the action sequences, which are shot with clarity and tension. Everything in between feels like connective tissue that hasn’t been fully developed. The film wants to be a slow-burn character study in the tradition of classic crime thrillers, but it often mistakes slowness for depth.

There’s something admirable about Crime 101’s ambition and its commitment to an old-school tone. It’s refreshing to see a crime film that isn’t overly stylized or frantic, one that tries to echo the measured storytelling of the genre’s past. But nostalgia alone isn’t enough. Without strong character foundations and tightly woven cause-and-effect storytelling, the film struggles to sustain interest until it’s almost too late.

By the time the finale arrives, the pieces finally click into place, but the patience required to get there may test even the most devoted fans of the genre. Crime 101 isn’t without merit, and its closing stretch hints at a sharper, more compelling thriller waiting to emerge. Unfortunately, it spends too long finding its footing, resulting in a film that improves as it goes but never fully overcomes its sluggish start.

SCORE: 5/10

As ComingSoon’s review policy explains, a score of 5 equates to “Mediocre.” The positives and negatives wind up negating each other, making it a wash.

Disclosure: ComingSoon attended a press screening for our Crime 101 review.