Written and directed by young filmmaker Luke Wallace, produced by David J. Bonner, The Line is a technically really well-executed story of violence, retribution and ambition that actually has two irreplaceable stars. The first one is called Peter Patrikios, playing the role of the drug lord Michael, a talented, underrated actor of a certain Michael Shannon-like quality who completely dominates the screen, at the same time highly intimidating and very casual, charismatic and intelligent. The second star, as unusual as it might sound, is the film's sound.
Throughout the film's 24 minutes, the atmosphere is slowly and effectively pumped up in great extent through The Line's sound design. Beautifully staged shots by cinematographer Tartaglione are constantly embellished by small details that find their way to your ears: the sound of constantly dripping water, the dramatic power of drops of rain neverendingly hitting the same spot on the drenched concrete floor, the sound of ice cubes clattering in a glass, the unnerving sound of those same cubes grinded under Michael's teeth, the sound of Michael drawing smoke from his cigarette... Such seemingly small things, if orchestrated cleverly, can do wonders for the mood and tension, and The Line uses them to their maximum advantage.
Patrikios, of course, had plenty of help from his talented co-stars: Johnathan Davis in the role of the undercover detective Kev, Walter DeShields as his partner getting more nervous by the minute, worried about covering his friend's back, John Donahue as the raw, silent, heavy-breathing thug and Donal Brophy as his cynical counterpart ceaselessly taunting him. Director Wallace's screenplay is lean and tidy, no superfluous sentences, no tiresome over-explaining... The Line is a bitter slice of (criminal) life, and Wallace obviously cares enough about the credibility of his story and characters not to spoil the story by pampering his audience.
The heart of the film is the intriguing conversation between Michael and Kev about what animals people think it's okay to kill and where and why people actually draw the line. These are a philosophical couple of minutes we can imagine coming from Tarantino's notebook, springing to spotlight in a situation that seems suitable for practically anything besides talking about the morality of killing fish. There's also a clever use of symbolism in the shot where we can see a tiger gnawing at a gazelle in its mouth: not only does it serve as a catalyst for the inspired dialogue that followed, it also intelligently depicts the two men's current situation at the negotiating table, foreshadowing the inevitable conclusion.
Luke Wallace's film is a solid crime drama that makes the most out of its running time, and as the end credits started rolling, I thought to myself this could be a great ending to a very good thriller. If the future holds such plans for The Line, it's safe to say one particular reviewer is eager to see it on the big screen.
Throughout the film's 24 minutes, the atmosphere is slowly and effectively pumped up in great extent through The Line's sound design. Beautifully staged shots by cinematographer Tartaglione are constantly embellished by small details that find their way to your ears: the sound of constantly dripping water, the dramatic power of drops of rain neverendingly hitting the same spot on the drenched concrete floor, the sound of ice cubes clattering in a glass, the unnerving sound of those same cubes grinded under Michael's teeth, the sound of Michael drawing smoke from his cigarette... Such seemingly small things, if orchestrated cleverly, can do wonders for the mood and tension, and The Line uses them to their maximum advantage.
Patrikios, of course, had plenty of help from his talented co-stars: Johnathan Davis in the role of the undercover detective Kev, Walter DeShields as his partner getting more nervous by the minute, worried about covering his friend's back, John Donahue as the raw, silent, heavy-breathing thug and Donal Brophy as his cynical counterpart ceaselessly taunting him. Director Wallace's screenplay is lean and tidy, no superfluous sentences, no tiresome over-explaining... The Line is a bitter slice of (criminal) life, and Wallace obviously cares enough about the credibility of his story and characters not to spoil the story by pampering his audience.
The heart of the film is the intriguing conversation between Michael and Kev about what animals people think it's okay to kill and where and why people actually draw the line. These are a philosophical couple of minutes we can imagine coming from Tarantino's notebook, springing to spotlight in a situation that seems suitable for practically anything besides talking about the morality of killing fish. There's also a clever use of symbolism in the shot where we can see a tiger gnawing at a gazelle in its mouth: not only does it serve as a catalyst for the inspired dialogue that followed, it also intelligently depicts the two men's current situation at the negotiating table, foreshadowing the inevitable conclusion.
Luke Wallace's film is a solid crime drama that makes the most out of its running time, and as the end credits started rolling, I thought to myself this could be a great ending to a very good thriller. If the future holds such plans for The Line, it's safe to say one particular reviewer is eager to see it on the big screen.