Fans of Matt Damon and Casey Affleck might be drawn to The Instigators—but the tone of this reasonably entertaining action-comedy is a bit hit-and-miss, writes Luke Buckmaster.
The Instigators
Despite what its title implies, the lead characters in The Instigators certainly aren’t go-getters: they’re down-and-out deadbeats more likely to fall asleep in a bar than attempt a daring crime. Matt Damon’s ex-marine Rory and Casey Affleck’s ex-con Cobby are, however, driven by a desire for cold hard cash—the most elemental of plot motivations—and bound by buddy comedy conventions. Except things aren’t quite as they should be, director Doug Liman aspiring for a light and snappy lark but arriving in tonal no man’s land, helming a production that’s not funny enough to be a comedy nor genuine enough for drama.
There’s some synchronicity between the attitude of the protagonists and the aura of film itself, in that brought seem brought to life with an almost begrudging energy despite a healthy quota of hijinx and explosion-rigged set pieces. You wouldn’t say The Instigators is lethargic—in fact the first act is pretty pacey—but it feels a little joyless and stiff-limbed.
The same can be said of Damon and Affleck’s performances, though they have narrative justifications for being a bti heavyhearted. The film begins with Damon’s on-the-skids Rory reflecting to his shrink (Hong Chau) about the sad state of his life: “I fucked things up,” he says, and “it’s not going to get any better.” Soon we meet Casey Affleck’s Cobby as he gets a young boy to blow into the breathalyzer device that activates his motorbike (staying sober being a condition of his parole) in a scene that might’ve been funny in other hands, but is exectued matter-of-factly.
The scene immediately preceding this culminates with a gangster (Michael Stuhlbarg) admonishing a crook for mishandingly an as-yet undisclosed assignment and yelling “who in their right fucking mind is gonna want to do this job right now?” Making it clear, of course, that Cobby will do it—Rory teaming up as his partner in crime. The job is to steal what they’re assured will be lots of money—“like none of you shitbums ever seen”—donated off the books to Boston’s corrupt Mayor (Ron Perlman) on the night of his re-election; they’re also assured he’s a shoo-in to win.
All the pair need to do is waltz into his headquarters, wave guns around and take the loot, bish bash bosh. The heist of course goes pear-shaped. But it’s a MacGuffin rather than a story arc, done and dusted by the 25 minute mark, the pair fleeing the scene with Cobby shot, setting in motion an on-the-run trajectory intensified by goons trying to kill them and a bunch of fooolish decisions.
In another version of The Instigators, the chemistry between Damon and Affleck might’ve kept it afloat during its slower spots, but in this one there’s not much bounce between the two, their chemistry feeling unlaboured but also borderline listless. There’s no pop and crackle, and when they butt heads—which is often—there’s no sparks. When a character introduced early on resurfaces relatively late in the runtime, for a while turning the pair’s double act into a trio, you can tell the writers (Affleck and Chuck Maclean) really want to amplify friction—ramping up the bitchiness and back talk—but by this point it’s clear The Instigators isn’t the droll comedy Liman probably intended.
Despite all this, however, I had a reasonably good time with it, the fast pace of those early scenes buying some goodwill; I appreciate how Liman didn’t draw out or belabor the (rather predictable) heist element. The rest of the runtime is a slow squandering of that goodwill and a convention-filled march towards a dramatically expedient, bow-tying finale. Throughout it all I found the film’s lack of vigor mildly amusing; it’s like cast and crew were saying to each other “we should have stayed in bed this morning.”
