I really detest movies like this one. 99 Homes runs for 112 minutes, and for 92 of them it is a solid, smartly assembled morality play that even seems to function as a thriller at times. It was on its way of becoming one of the most pleasant surprises of this year, a movie that really got my brain grinding, and then, that disastrous, stupid, stupid, and maudlin climax.
I’m supposed to accept the fact that an eight year old, who up until that point worried only about sports and having a pool, suddenly matures to the point that he is able to discern what a crappy thing his dad is doing, engaging in deals with the devil?
And then I see a drunk and morose Andrew Garfield, the camera lingering on a firearm at his side for a few seconds, as he questions whether his new life is worth losing his family over.
And then that heroic confession, facing down the barrel of a rifle, surrounded by the police!
I swear, it’s like those final 20 minutes were churned out by the Disney factory, or some other author who makes works for children. Gah, I am still frustrated!