The Rip

Matt Damon’s Lt. Dane Dumars of the Miami police force’s Tactical Narcotics Team (TNT) has a tattoo on his hand that reads “A.W.T.G.G.” He explains its meaning: “Are we the good guys?” That’s the central question of writer-director Joe Carnahan’s The Rip, a macho cop movie about corruption and double-crosses from within the police department. One of those highly fictionalized movies that uses “inspired by true events” to legitimize itself, Carnahan’s latest sets up a twisting yarn where a cash seizure of drug money in a stash house proves awfully tempting for a lot of dirty cops. Carnahan assembles an impressive all-star cast that’s sure to draw viewers, but not even its congenial stars can smooth out the wrinkly plot and underdeveloped characters that propel this middling Netflix production—a predictably forgettable release by the streamer. 

The story takes place following the murder of Capt. Jacki Velez (Lina Esco). Dumars and his hothead colleague Det. Sgt. JD Byrne (Ben Affleck, behind a distractingly dyed beard) suspect someone in their department may have killed her, and Byrne is particularly invested in finding the culprits—seen in the pre-credits sequence—given his romantic relationship with her. After the FBI, headed by Byrne’s brother (Scott Adkins), grills the TNT team, Dumars leads them on an unexpected mission: He receives a Crime Stoppers alert that claims loads of cash may be located in a suburban cul-de-sac in Hialeah. Dumars heads his crew of Byrne, Det. Ro (Steven Yeun), Det. Baptiste (Teyana Taylor), and Det. Salazar (Catalina Sandino Moreno) with her cash-sniffing Beagle, Wilbur. They arrive at a ramshackle house inhabited by Desi (Sasha Calle), who claims to know nothing about the cash in question.

Before long, the crew locates several five-gallon buckets filled with cash hidden behind the house’s walls, totaling more than $20 million. At this, Dumars’ behavior becomes strange. He refuses to call command about the seizure or call for backup, believing that both cops and the cartels would kill to get their hands on all that cash. He orders the team to follow procedure and count the bills on site, while remarking, “It’d be so much easier to steal this money.” And given Dumars’ shifty and unusual conduct—not to mention that he recently “lost everything” with the death of his son—his team begins to suspect he’s planning to take the loot. However, someone knows they’re in the house and, chillingly, it seems as though the cartel has bought out the entire neighborhood. Maybe it’s a trap. Maybe they’re already surrounded. Maybe Dumars is playing them all. 

The Rip’s predictable twists and turns don’t offer many surprises, but the talented cast gives these one-note characters more presence than they might have otherwise. Carnahan handles the action with clarity and intensity, and along with cinematographer Juan Miguel Azpiroz, delivers a couple of immersive shootout sequences. Elsewhere, the production resorts to generic creative choices. Clinton Shorter’s score adopts the all-too-common booming tone technique, with periodic bwaaaaaaam notes reminiscent of an annoying number of recent movies. And along with editor Kevin Hale, Carnahan treats his audience like forgetful dullards with flashbacks to remind us what a character said in earlier scenes, as though we’re incapable of remembering what happened a half-hour ago. 

Produced by Artists Equity—Damon and Affleck’s admirable creator-first company, where everyone involved in their productions shares in the film’s financial success—The Rip remains an uneven and ultimately unsatisfying actioner. After an opening that stumbles before it gets going and a tonally baffling ending that finds our eventual heroes on a beach, watching the sun rise, it’s evident where Carnahan’s strengths lie. He excels at staging action and conflict in the second act, while his weaknesses prevent him from establishing strong characters and giving them closure. Looking over his filmography, this assessment applies even to his best feature, the Alaskan survivalist tale The Grey (2011), which just gets going before abruptly ending. The Rip’s skilled ensemble and the promise of tense gunplay may be enough for some, but the unremarkable result leaves no lasting impression once the end credits roll.