[The following text was published in Pardo, the official daily of the Locarno Film Festival.]

After sporting drama Bang Bang (2024) and the gripping procedural Gangland (2025), genre wizard Vincent Grashaw is back at Locarno for the third consecutive year, this time with a propulsive prison saga full of heart and soul. Bruton is based on the incredible true story of Bryan Bruton, a small-time drug dealer and family man from Florida who was sentenced to 10 years for manslaughter. In prison, he seduced a female officer, spearheaded successful smuggling operations, and eventually, with his lover’s assistance, pulled off a daring escape together with another inmate, both disguised as guards. Caught hitching a ride in the backwoods, the pair were placed in solitary confinement. Until his release seven years later, in 2014, Bruton was shuttled between penitentiaries, often without visitation rights.

Powered by a sardonic first-person voiceover in the vein of Martin Scorsese, Bruton moves expertly between comic and dramatic registers. Emily the Criminal’s (2022) Theo Rossi portrays the title role with tremendous charm and wile, bowling over Maura Willis, his prison guard paramour – played with a touching vulnerability by Tammy Blanchard. By staying close to Bruton’s perspective, the film has viewers rooting for this regular Joe who finds ingenious ways of crawling out of a hole, only to then dig himself new ones.

Grashaw, also the film’s writer and editor, is completely in tune with the wildly entertaining material. Without minimising Bruton’s capacity for harm nor the gravity of his crimes, he taps into the indomitability of the man’s spirit in soul-crushing circumstances. A large part of this outlook derives from his love for his daughter Crystal (played by Kayden Tokarski and Alexandria Jane Arnold at different ages) – a relationship fleshed out with great care and emotional impact.

The dignity and generosity with which the film treats Bruton is extended to all the other inmates, a veritable Hawksian bunch in their infectious camaraderie, passion, and unity of purpose. Grashaw lays emphasis not on the sordid nature of life behind bars – difficult though it is – but on the lust for life teeming there. For almost half its runtime, Bruton feels like the gentlest prison movie ever made, with our man cruising through his term and romancing Maura over biscuits and steak. Even when things go south – and south, they go – Bruton continues to hope against hope that he’ll be back with Crystal one day. When their reunion eventually happens, it’s fireworks!

[An edited version of the following text was originally published in Pardo, the Locarno Film Festival’s official daily magazine.]

“We are all squatters here, Toto”, quips officer Teddy Sharpe (Lou Diamond Phillips) to his rookie beat partner Sandra Scala (Dana Namerode). A half-Filipino working for the tribal police in Thunderstone indigenous reservation, Teddy is an ethnic outsider. But as someone who has grown up among the Native Indian community, he is intimately familiar with the ways of the reservation, now under the sway of drug cartels and warring gangs. “We have our laws and punishment, the streets have theirs”, goes another of Teddy’s nuggets to Sandra.

In Keep Quiet, Vincent Grashaw (Bang Bang, Locarno Film Festival 2024) offers a gritty, long–fused crime drama that puts the conventions of the genre at the service of a complex sociological reality. The reservation, in Zach Montague’s close-grained screenplay, is host to competing moral codes and regimes of authority: indigenous gangs who fashion themselves as a brotherhood above American law, the district police who only view them as anti-social elements to be clamped down, and the tribal police who perform an interstitial peacekeeping role.

At the centre of this vortex is Teddy, who uses his official power to curb delinquency in the reservation, but who is also mindful of the larger needs of the community. Having possibly wronged the community in the past, he is desperate to keep children away from both the streets and the law. But when Richie (Elisha Pratt), a reckless ex-convict, returns to the reservation with vengeful motivations, Teddy’s hopes of stemming the cycle of crime and violence are severely tested.

Shot by Brandon Waddell with an acute feeling for shadows, Keep Quiet offers a shining example of lean, no-frills genre filmmaking: invisible craft deployed to draw us into a believable, realistic world. Despite the richly detailed backstories to the characters, Grashaw succeeds in imparting immediacy and momentum to the narrative, never allowing the film to wallow in psychology. In that, he is aided by convincing performers such as Namerode and Pratt, who bring to life, with admirable economy, individuals fighting their own demons.

But the beating heart of the film is Phillips, who distils classical Hollywood models of middle-aged masculinity into Teddy: wise, sardonic, measured in action and word, with occasional touches of irascibility that only reveals an impatience with empty niceties. His moral sense is derived from a spontaneous, practical intelligence rather than theory or self-analysis. Yet he can be lucid when necessary, evoking a knotty, painful past with razor-sharp clarity and concision. Phillip’s Teddy is John Wayne and James Stewart rolled into one.