Risqué

There is a specific kind of silence that follows a gunshot in a crowded club—a momentary vacuum where the bass stops and the reality of the situation sets in. It’s a beat of pure, unadulterated tension that Tony Dean Smith captures with surprising grace in Risqué. In a cinematic landscape currently obsessed with multiversal stakes and $200 million budgets that somehow look like gray mush, there’s something genuinely refreshing about a 91-minute heist thriller that knows exactly what it is: a lean, mean, neon-soaked revenge fantasy that doesn't overstay its welcome.

I watched this on a Tuesday afternoon while my neighbor was relentlessly power-washing his driveway; the constant, industrial hum outside actually synced up perfectly with the low-frequency thrum of the film’s electronic score, making the whole experience feel like I was trapped in a basement level of a high-security vault.

The Grime Beneath the Glitter

The setup is classic crime fodder, yet it feels sharply tuned to our current cultural moment. Leah Gibson stars as Jessica, a dancer who finds herself on the wrong side of a firing squad (metaphorically, at first) after crossing her corrupt boss, Mike. David Thomas Newman plays Mike with a punchable, mid-level-manager energy that makes his eventual downfall feel like a moral necessity. Gibson, whom I last saw playing a high-stakes enforcer in Jessica Jones, brings a jagged, weary intensity to Jessica. She isn't a "girl boss" archetype; she’s a woman who has been squeezed by a predatory system until she finally decided to squeeze back.

The "Contemporary Cinema" of the mid-2020s often struggles with how to portray the sex work industry without falling into the "Hustlers-lite" trap or regressing into 90s-era exploitation. Risqué manages to thread this needle by treating the club as a tactical environment. It treats the strip club not as a playground for the male gaze, but as a tactical battlefield where the carpet is sticky and the exits are few. When Jessica recruits her fellow dancers—Shelby (Eloise Lovell Anderson), Carmen (Silvia Orduna), Bianka (Rex Adams), and Kiko (Julia Strowski)—the film shifts into a heist procedural that values insider knowledge over high-tech gadgetry.

Choreography of Chaos

Where Risqué really earns its keep is in the action choreography. Since the characters are dancers, Tony Dean Smith and his stunt team lean into the athleticism inherent in their profession. This isn't just about throwing punches; it’s about balance, leverage, and using the environment. There’s a sequence in the second act involving a dressing room ambush that is remarkably well-staged. The camera, handled by Ivan Vatsov (who previously worked on the surprisingly slick The Expendables 3), stays tight and frantic, emphasizing the claustrophobia of the back-of-house corridors.

The action feels heavy. In an era where CGI de-aging and digital doubles have made stunts feel floaty and weightless, the hits in Risqué have a dull, wet thud to them. When someone hits a wall, you feel the drywall crack. The film stays grounded in a way that reminds me of early Jeremy Saulnier—it’s not "pretty" action, it’s desperate survival. The screenplay by Noah Blake and Gary Preisler understands that revenge is a dish best served with a side of grand larceny and high-heeled precision.

The Modern Indie Grind

It’s worth noting the production context here. SP Media Group and producer Steven Paul are operating in that tricky mid-budget space that has largely been abandoned by major studios in favor of streaming "content" dumps. Risqué feels like a film made by people who miss the tactile thrill of a 90s thriller but are forced to work with the digital tools of 2025. Interestingly, Tony Dean Smith is largely known for his work on Hallmark and Lifetime-adjacent thrillers like The 27-Hour Day. Seeing him pivot to this dark, visceral crime piece is a bit like watching a polite neighbor suddenly reveal a massive back tattoo—it’s unexpected, slightly alarming, and way more interesting than what they were doing before.

The film did seem to vanish shortly after its limited release, likely a victim of the "streaming sea" where if you aren't a Top 10 Netflix hit in your first 48 hours, you might as well not exist. It’s a shame, because while it doesn't reinvent the wheel, it balances its dark themes of systemic abuse with the pure, popcorn-munching joy of watching a bad man lose his money. The chemistry between the core five women feels lived-in; they aren't just a "team," they're a workforce that has unionized with shotguns.

Stuff You Didn't Notice

The Vancouver Connection: Despite its gritty urban setting, the film was shot in British Columbia. If you look closely at the exterior "city" shots, you can spot the specific shade of green and the damp pavement that screams Pacific Northwest, no matter how many neon signs you put up. A Dark Turn: This marks one of the grittiest roles for Eloise Lovell Anderson, who previously navigated the stylized horror of The Strangers: Prey at Night. Her character here serves as the moral compass, or at least the one who realizes just how deep the hole they're digging actually is. * The 91-Minute Rule: In an age of three-hour epics, the producers reportedly mandated a tight sub-100-minute runtime to keep the pacing relentless. It works; there isn't a single ounce of fat on this script.

Risqué is a solid, dark-hearted thriller that benefits from a fantastic lead performance by Leah Gibson and a director who knows how to make a small budget look like a million bucks. It’s the kind of "hidden gem" you find on a Friday night when you’re tired of scrolling through the same ten franchise sequels and want something that feels human, angry, and exciting. It’s not a masterpiece, but it’s a damn good time for anyone who likes their heist movies with a bit of grit under the fingernails. Search it out on the deeper tiers of your streaming apps—it’s worth the hunt.