'American Night' Is All Style, Some Substance

 Film Review: 

'American Night' 

Is All Style, Some Substance

In American Night, style reigns supreme—and the true star isn’t on the screen. It’s behind the lens.

Director of Photography Ben Nott and, in Italy, Andrzej Sekula (Cinematographer, Italy Unit), deserve the spotlight here. Their camera work is moody, precise, and visually lush—perfect for this sleek neo-noir thriller set in New York City's corrupt contemporary art world. The frames are cinematic paintings in themselves, awash in neon and shadow. If you're here for atmosphere, you've come to the right movie.

As for the plot, it’s a tangled web of art, crime, and double-crosses. John Kaplan (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) is an art dealer struggling to keep his gallery afloat. Michael Rubino (Emile Hirsch) is a newly crowned Mafia boss with a flair for the dramatic—and a passion for painting, often with bullets. The film opens with him unloading a clip into a canvas, a burst of postmodern bravado that sets the tone for what follows: a story that’s visually striking but narratively uneven.

Something is compelling about placing a neo-noir in the art world, where forgery, value, and perception already walk a fine line. And American Night makes the most of that conceit early on. The race to secure a stolen Andy Warhol painting of Marilyn Monroe kicks off a whirlwind of betrayals, schemes, and shifting perspectives. Writer-director Alessio Della Valle clearly wants to emulate the stylish, non-linear storytelling of Tarantino—a compliment, not a diss. He even rewinds major scenes for alternative angles. The trick works once, but twice in one sequence, and the effect wears thin, especially when the dialogue doesn’t earn its repeated airtime.

Jonathan Rhys Meyers is steady, grounded, and watchable as always, even when the script isn’t doing him any favors. Emile Hirsch finds pockets of oddball charm, adding life to a character who could’ve easily been one-note. Jeremy Piven plays Vincent, a washed-up stuntman, unknowingly in possession of the painting everyone wants. His subplot—featuring misfired stunts, Bruce Lee quotes, and vague financial troubles—struggles to justify its runtime.

And runtime is the film’s greatest enemy. Clocking in at two hours, American Night stretches a relatively simple crime narrative into an epic, forcing flashbacks within flashbacks and one too many nightclub detours. There’s a scene featuring a painted-body sex montage that seems less interested in advancing the plot than in exploring how many artistic metaphors can fit into a single shot.

The film also falters in its depiction of women, who are largely reduced to eye candy, hostages, or victims of gratuitous violence. It’s a frustrating flaw in a film that otherwise strives for sophistication.

Still, for all its narrative confusion, American Night holds visual attention. It's a film built for streaming—ideal for a late-night watch on platforms like Hulu or Amazon Prime. You might not follow every twist, but you’ll enjoy the ride if you surrender to the spectacle.

In the end, it’s a stylish mess—more paint splash than masterpiece. But at least it looks good doing it.

“It’s a stylish mess—more paint splash than masterpiece. But at least it looks good doing it.” — Lapacazo Sandoval, AmNews