Stranglehold is now available on VOD and Digital from Quiver Distribution.
As far as satirical flicks go, Stranglehold is pretty on the nose. Clark Duke (Arkansas) directs the pic from a script he wrote along with Billington Duke and co-star Chandler Duke, and for a heist flick where virtually everything that could go wrong for our characters does, in fact, go wrong – just short of a Mike Judge joint.
Whether or not this story has a happy ending is something I’ll omit in this analysis, particularly considering that most of the decisions our characters make in this film are pretty horrible. That said, it begs wondering how anyone makes it out alive in this bit of breakneck lampoon of red state American suburbia.
The best part here is that Stranglehold caricaturizes this type of behavior aptly, anchored by hilarious performances and visuals, and violent spectacle that elevates things firmly into the film’s first hour. You can hardly call it over-the-top without the daunting realization of how tangible and potent the film is in concept and delivery.
Stranglehold follows the tale of exotic dancer Bailey (Ashley Benson) and ex-national guardsman Tim (Jake Lacy). Married and living in a trailer park where the love is moreso on the fringes of tolerable for the two, Bailey and Tim work jobs that alternate between day and night as they struggle to balance their schedules out to take care of their baby daughter, Jordan (Gabriella Pabellon Isabella Pabellon).
Central to the story is Bailey’s day-to-day over at Hawg Heaven where she strips for cash, and what she makes pales in comparison to some of her colleagues. With the holidays approaching and Jordan ailing, Bailey’s efforts for extra income fall short thanks to the recalcitrance of her creepy and salacious boss, Junior (Justin Long). Adding insult to injury is when Tim’s own incorrigible penchants end up with him fired from his job, and his underhanded priorities get the best of him.
The first half bookends with a slew of developments amid a major discovery for Bailey, that is, upon learning that a big party is soon happening at the club. The guests of attendance is expected to be full up with high rollers all being hosted by Junior’s big shot father, Roger (Ron Perlman).
At home, tempers flare and ease with a night of drunken stupor, along with bad ideas conjured out of desperation as Bailey and Tim take to Tim’s gun collection, and concoct a plan to rob her workplace. What follows is the very cautionary tale you can expect from a story like Stranglehold, as a standoff unfolds between the two would-be assailants, and a small squad of the club’s backwood redneck security guards led by Leo (Chandler Duke). Soon enough, bullets fly past (and through) heads as any and all rates of common sense, as Bailey must try and help deescalate the peril in order to reunite with her daughter before its too late.
Stranglehold doesn’t hold back on the inevitable here, mainly on its critique of the sociopolitical microcosm the film explores through its characters; Bailey’s world is one that’s wrapped in the stresses of motherhood and misogynistic entropy, so much so that she dissociates with envious doomscrolling on social media through all the influencers and their more fortuitous lifestyles. Her choice of partner is also a reflection of her shared myopia as Tim is every bit the regressive, conspiracy-minded cosplatriot he’s perceived to be, bloviating about everything problematic issue he doesn’t understand, and finding his daily escape in guns, video games, and just enough liquor in his thermos to avoid buzzing his breathalyzer when he needs to drive.
Co-star Duke’s portrayal of Leo is a perfect depiction of the kind of persona conveying the kind of impressionable online dregs of the manosphere and its target audience. The second half of the film proliferates a little more for girlfriend Taylor (Elle King) who contributes to the storied anarchy as a club employee relegated to working the club’s front desk at Junior’s behest.
Perlman brings veracity and substance to the cast in Stranglehold as Roger, dressed in a Santa suit and forced to mitigate with Bailey and Tim while in their captivity. A key dialogue scene with his character brings themaric cohesion in a full circle moment stemming from a line iterated by Junior that I think underscores a crucial aspect of the film’s more ubiquitous message. Perlman’s Roger is a terrific personification of the boomer generation that looks down on today’s conservative male populace as one that’s lost the plot on the kind of rugged individualism he thinks is still universally viable in the 2020s.
Stranglehold eventually takes shape in its final act, recapitulating with a final showdown that produces at least one plausible and ebulliently poetic outcome. It’s a moment that brings all sides to account, supplying an unabashed and nuanced thesis for Duke’s otherwise comprehensive and palatable crime comedy, one that certainly doles out its share of jaw drops and fireworks as American as the politics that brought us here.
