Emily the Criminal

I watched Emily the Criminal on a Tuesday night while nursing a lukewarm cup of peppermint tea that I’d forgotten to actually steep, and honestly, that sense of mild, distracted irritation was the perfect headspace for this movie. We’ve all been there—staring at a bank balance that looks more like a temperature reading in Antarctica, wondering which "side hustle" won't eventually require selling a kidney.

John Patton Ford’s debut feature doesn’t just tap into that modern anxiety; it hooks a car battery to it and flips the switch. It’s a crime thriller, sure, but it’s also the most accurate depiction of the "low-level hustle" I’ve seen in years. In an era where every third movie is a $200 million franchise entry about saving the multiverse, there’s something incredibly refreshing about a $2 million indie that’s just about a woman trying to make rent.

The Gig Economy Noir

Aubrey Plaza (who I’ll always love from Parks and Recreation, though she’s worlds away from April Ludgate here) plays Emily, a woman suffocating under $70k of student debt. Because of a minor criminal record, she’s stuck working a "catering" gig that is actually just a glorified delivery job with zero benefits and a boss who treats her like an appliance. When a co-worker hands her a phone number for a "dummy shopper" gig, she takes it.

The "crime" part of this crime thriller is fascinatingly mundane. It’s credit card fraud—buying flat-screen TVs with stolen numbers and flipping them for cash. No one is dodging lasers or hacking the mainframe. It’s just Emily, a burner phone, and the crushing realization that stealing a TV is significantly more dignified than working for a corporate catering company. The film captures the jittery, stomach-churning adrenaline of doing something wrong not because you’re a mastermind, but because you’re out of options.

A Performance of Pure Friction

This movie belongs entirely to Aubrey Plaza. Between this and her turn in The White Lotus, she’s officially entered her "Prestige Drama" era, and I’m obsessed with it. She plays Emily with this permanent, low-boil snarl. She’s not "likable" in the traditional sense; she’s prickly, defensive, and increasingly ruthless. But because the script is so grounded in the reality of the 2020s, you don't just root for her—you understand her.

Her chemistry with Theo Rossi (who many will recognize from Sons of Anarchy) is the unexpected heart of the film. Theo Rossi plays Youcef, the middleman who teaches her the ropes. He brings a surprising amount of tenderness to a guy whose primary career involves identity theft. Their relationship isn’t some grand cinematic romance; it’s a partnership of two people who are tired of being the ones getting stepped on. There’s a scene involving Gina Gershon as a high-powered ad executive that is genuinely harder to watch than any of the heist sequences. It’s a masterclass in how "professional" environments can be just as predatory as a basement full of stolen electronics.

Making Two Million Look Like Twenty

What really impressed me about Emily the Criminal is how it uses its limitations. This was a classic indie hustle—shot in just 21 days on the streets of Los Angeles. There’s a raw, handheld energy to the cinematography by Jeff Bierman that makes the city feel claustrophobic and sun-bleached in all the right ways.

The film premiered at Sundance and immediately sparked a conversation about the "un-relatability" of the American Dream for millennials and Gen Z. It doesn’t offer easy answers or a moralizing lecture. It just shows a woman who decides that if the system is rigged, she might as well be the one rigging it. My one hot take? This movie is the most effective horror film of the decade because the true villain is just a Sallie Mae interest rate. It hits closer to home than any jump-scare ever could.

John Patton Ford’s script is tight, clocking in at a lean 97 minutes. There’s no bloat, no unnecessary subplots, and no "origin story" flashbacks. It’s a propulsive, character-driven engine that reminds me of 70s street-level thrillers like The Friends of Eddie Coyle. It’s proof that you don’t need a massive CGI budget to create tension; you just need a character with something to lose and a scene involving a Taser.

Emily the Criminal is a sharp, cynical, and deeply satisfying ride that feels perfectly tuned to our current cultural moment. It’s the kind of indie gem that restores your faith in mid-budget filmmaking. If you’ve ever felt like your bank account was a personal insult, this movie is going to resonate with you on a molecular level. It’s a bleak story told with a lot of fire, and Aubrey Plaza proves she’s one of the most interesting actors working today. Definitely clear your schedule for this one—just maybe check your credit card statement afterward.