Hit Man-If Glen Powell’s Not Already a Star, This Movie Will Make Him One

 "Hit Man: Richard Linklater's Playful Deconstruction of Identity and Stardom"

Early in Richard Linklater's film "Hit Man," philosophy lecturer Gary Johnson (played by Glen Powell) poses a profound question to his University of New Orleans class: “How many of you really know yourselves?” He further muses, “What if your self is a construction, an illusion … a role you’ve been playing since the day you were born?” This intriguing notion foreshadows the film’s journey as Gary becomes a living answer to his own question.

Based on a “somewhat true” story, Johnson, a real individual, worked for the New Orleans Police Department as a decoy hit man. His role involved luring would-be clients into incriminating themselves by pretending to offer his services, all while wired for sound. This role seems a bizarre fit for Gary, an ordinary, bird-watching, Honda Civic-driving man who exudes an aura of forgettability—a trait perfect for his undercover work. A colleague aptly notes, “You have this unreadable face. Perfectly forgettable.” Gary only gets the job when the regular guy is suspended, yet he proves to be a natural.

In his initial sting operation, Gary's transformation is remarkable. Nervously coaching himself to embody a killer, he astonishingly morphs into the persona required, reminiscent of Jamie Foxx’s transformation in "Collateral" where an unassuming cabbie convincingly impersonates a seasoned assassin. Powell’s portrayal evokes this same dynamic, blending the cool detachment of a hit man with the charisma of a budding movie star—a charisma potentially polished during his time on "Top Gun: Maverick."

Gary’s role as a hit man is both a challenge and a liberation. He tailors his appearance to the expectations of each client—adding a neck tattoo, donning an overcoat, sporting dark glasses or an accent. He plays a character rooted in fantasy, a figment of collective imagination. And then, he meets Madison (Adria Arjona), a distressed woman looking to escape her abusive husband. She tries to hire Gary, but he’s so moved by her plight that he dissuades her, sparking a romance where she believes him to be “Ron,” the tough, compassionate hit man.

As Gary’s relationship with Madison deepens, he increasingly embodies Ron. He becomes bolder, more confident, and even a better lover—transcending his own self-imposed limitations. This duality is vividly illustrated when Madison’s estranged husband confronts them at a club; Gary, channeling his inner Clint Eastwood, unflinchingly draws a gun and diffuses the threat.

"Hit Man" delights in Gary’s evolution from an ordinary man to an extraordinary figure, subtly exploring themes of identity and transformation. It taps into the fantasy of becoming someone else entirely—a concept both indulgent and self-aware. Linklater’s film, buoyed by Powell’s charming performance, makes us believe in the possibility of such metamorphosis while reminding us that these figures are products of our imagination.

Linklater's direction is suffused with a sense of limitless potential. His gentle, engaging approach contrasts sharply with other hit-man films showcased at the Venice Film Festival, such as David Fincher's brooding "The Killer" or Harmony Korine's violent "Aggro Dr1ft." While those films grapple with the genre's clichés, Linklater reinvents it with a breezy, enjoyable touch. His philosophical musings, embodied in Gary’s lectures, blend seamlessly into the narrative, making the film’s exploration of identity both thought-provoking and light-hearted.

In "Hit Man," Linklater’s hallmark generosity and ease as a filmmaker are on full display, crafting a work that is not just a movie but a playful, profound experience. It’s a testament to his unique vision and Powell's rising star, potentially cementing both their places in cinematic history.