Blood and Money (2020)
Directed by: John Barr
Written by: John Barr, Alan Petherick
Starring: Tom Berenger, Kristen Hager, Paul Ben-Victor
Release Date: May 15, 2020 (USA)
Available on: Amazon Prime

I watched Blood and Money on Amazon Prime with my grandmother, who, to her credit, has started showing interest in better stuff than the 1980s Neighbours reruns she normally demands when she arrives to spy on me after my parents have gone to bed. Prime described this one as “fast and thrilling.” This was a lie. It is neither of these things. It is slow and about as thrilling as watching paint dry—except the paint is peeling in a dimly lit room, and the only sound is Tom Berenger wheezing.

The story follows Jim Reed (Berenger), a decrepit old man who spends his days wandering the Maine wilderness, hunting deer and contemplating his own worthlessness. His life is a long, drawn-out sigh of regret and illness. He is dying and all alone. Then, by accident, he stumbles across a bag of stolen money and makes the decision to involve himself in a conflict he is wholly unfit to handle.

Now, an interesting film might have made something of this. A man with nothing to lose taking on a gang of violent criminals could, in theory, be engaging. Instead, Blood and Money presents us with a man who can barely lift his rifle, or walk ten feet without having blood dribble from his mouth, yet somehow manages to dispatch three much younger and better-armed opponents. He does not outthink them. He does not outfight them. He just refuses to die, and the film treats this as a victory.

But the real insult is the ending, in which Jim finally dies, leaving his bag of stolen money as though it were worth anything. This is where Hollywood’s delusions about cash are at their most ridiculous. A man finds a sack of money in the snow, and we are supposed to believe he has suddenly acquired wealth. As if. Cash is not wealth. Cash is a liability. It is useless the moment you have more of it than will buy a week’s shopping. Try depositing anything over £5,000 in a bank and see what happens. Try withdrawing it and prepare to be interrogated. The modern financial system has been carefully designed to ensure that no ordinary person can handle large sums of unregistered money without triggering every alarm bell in the state apparatus. Money laundering laws have turned financial independence into a crime unless you belong to the class of people who write the laws.

Governments insist this is all about stopping drug dealers and terrorists, or whatever else the regime media tells us is a Bad Thing. Of course, drug dealers and terrorists have no problem moving money around, because they do not use Barclays or Lloyds. The real purpose of these laws is to keep ordinary people under control by the dead-eyed nutters who run our managerial state. These people don’t want you hoarding or hiding. They want every penny to be visible, so it can be taxed, and, if you step out of line, frozen. Try carrying a few thousand in cash, and the police will assume you are either a criminal or a lunatic. Try spending it, and you will be asked why you are not using a card, as though physical currency were some bizarre relic of the past, like powdered wigs or a functioning economy.

A better film would have recognised this. A better film would have treated the discovery of stolen money as the beginning of a different challenge. The real threat would not be the criminals hunting Jim in the woods, but the labyrinth of regulations and bureaucratic traps preventing him from ever using his new wealth. Instead of watching a geriatric who makes Dr Gabb look young stumble through the snow, we could have had a protagonist who understood this challenge: turning stolen money into useful money. There could have been careful structuring of deposits to avoid triggering bank scrutiny. There could have been shell companies, even classic smurfing techniques. Instead, Jim does none of this. He simply dies, leaving a bag of useless paper for an equally useless and random heir, as if the thought of cash is enough to make us believe in his victory.

I suppose it is fitting. Jim is a relic, and so is the idea that cash means freedom. The world has changed. The state has won. All that remains is surveillance and taxation, together with the knowledge that the people in charge will never leave us alone.

I could forgive a film for being unrealistic. I cannot forgive a film for being this dull. Even my grandmother, who thinks Midsomer Murders is a bit edgy, was unimpressed. Blood and Money is not a thriller. It is not even a crime film. It is an endurance test, a slow-motion slog through snow and self-pity, starring a man who should have put himself out of his misery before the opening credits.

If you want a film about survival, watch something else. If you want a film about crime, watch Goodfellas. If you want a film about an old man wheezing in the cold, you might as well stare out of the window in February. It would be cheaper.