A lengthy pre-title card sequence informs viewers of the political turmoil, poverty and racism that have plagued Haiti for decades, setting the stage for a kidnapping-gone-wrong plot among Haitian citizens from various economic backgrounds. This comes to us courtesy of award-winning commercial director Bruno Mourral, who makes his feature directorial debut with Kidnapping Inc.
Set in the days leading up to Haiti’s presidential election, Kidnapping Inc. follows Doc (Jasmuel Andri) and Zoe (Rolaphton Mercure), two Haitian criminals-for-hire who have just kidnapped Ben (Patrick Joseph), the son of presidential candidate Benjamin Perralt (Ashley Laraque). A wrench is thrown in their plan when they lose their kidnappee, and their desperation leads them to kidnap a lookalike (Patrick Joseph, in a dual role) and his pregnant wife (Gessica Geneus). Simultaneously, Ben’s wife Audrey (Anabel Lopez) and her lover Eddy (Marcus Boereau) attempt to secure the ransom money and get everything back to the status quo before election day arrives. While all of that is going on, Ben’s father is trying to maintain his composure and win the election, while possibly being up to some nefarious schemes of his own.
If that sounds like a lot, well, it is. Mourral keeps the film moving at a rapid pace, sometimes so rapidly that it can become difficult to follow as we bounce around from subplot to subplot. Mourral and his co-editor Arthur Tarnowski have clearly studied the films of Edgar Wright, yet what separates Wright from Mourral is that Wright makes cohesive films. I’m not convinced Mourrel has learned that trick yet, as Kidnapping Inc. threatens to derail long before the credits roll. Thankfully, it never does, but it often comes dangerously close.
Where Mourral succeeds the most is in the action sequences, especially a spectacular chase scene through the streets of Port-au-Prince that concludes the first act. Camerawork is frenetic and characters scream at each other (a lot), making for some truly thrilling set pieces. He doesn’t shy away from showing the violence, either, as bullets fly and fingernails are hammered off with gusto.
Farcical at times and deathly serious at others, Kidnapping Inc. starts out as a comedy of errors and eventually morphs into a full-blown political thriller, but the transition is far from seamless. This goes for the tonal shifts as well, which aren’t always handled with grace. Of course, nothing about Kidnapping Inc. is particularly graceful (it isn’t trying to be), but the whiplash from scene to scene, especially in the second half, is overbearing at times.
Holding things together are Andri and Mercure, who are the heart and soul of the film. They are a delight to watch and their friendship resonates, though it is Geneus who emerges as the film’s secret weapon, as she manages to steal nearly every scene she is in. The rest of the cast is made up of thinly drawn characters who don’t make much of an impression, which is why the film suffers when our two leads aren’t on screen.
However, the Doc/Zoe-less scenes are where the political commentary is at its most pointed. While the inclusion of these scenes make thematic sense, not enough attention is given to them over the course of the film’s runtime that it often feels like they belong in a different movie, especially when they’re held up against the more outlandishly comedic elements that populate most of the film. This is a shame, as there is a seething anger bubbling under the surface that boils over in the film’s final minutes. Unfortunately, it takes too long for Mourell to make his point that it doesn’t fully land by the time the credits roll.
Ultimately, Kidnapping Inc. is a loud, messy little caper that serves as a solid display of Mourell’s filmmaking talents, but he may need to take another crack at screenwriting to finesse his craft. As it stands, this is a solid debut effort that’s comes with a game cast and some hilariously entertaining set pieces, so the film earns a recommendation.
Kidnapping Inc. premiered at the Sundance Film Festival. Release date TBA.
