Crime 101 review: Hemsworth and Ruffalo fuel a lean, stylish heist
Bart Layton’s Crime 101 refines familiar heist ingredients into a slick, adult-oriented thriller. Anchored by Chris Hemsworth as a meticulous jewel thief and Mark Ruffalo as the dogged detective on his trail, the film trades operatic breadth for tight, efficient storytelling and clean digital cinematography that keeps L. A. in sharp focus. Crime 101 opens in the US on February 13 (ET).
A Mann‑adjacent heist with a modern pulse
Layton’s film wears its influence on its sleeve: there are echoes of late‑20th‑century cops‑and‑robbers cinema in its obsession with procedure and the professional rhythms of criminal craft. Yet Crime 101 avoids slavish imitation. Instead of sprawling, operatic set pieces, Layton opts for methodical pacing and a focus on the craft of theft—surveillance, timing, getaway routes—that gives many sequences the feel of a tightly choreographed operation. The film’s visual design amplifies that discipline, with clean camera work and a cool, almost clinical palette that keeps the action lean.
The narrative orbits the Pacific Coast Highway, where a series of jewel robberies along Route 101 form a pattern. Hemsworth’s Mike is a man of habits: immaculate grooming, precise movements and an aversion to unnecessary violence. His professional life is contrasted with the messy, human side of the city—the people pushed to its margins and the bureaucratic indifference of institutions that should protect them. These social notes are present but never pressed to the point of sermonizing; they function as framing devices rather than the film’s moral center.
Cast keeps the gears turning
The film’s biggest strength is its cast. Hemsworth strips back the bombast audiences have come to expect and plays Mike as taut, restrained and nervy—an unusual turn that makes his onscreen cool feel earned. Opposite him, Ruffalo brings bruised humanity to the detective archetype. His Lou is less about theatrics and more about a dogged, almost sympathetic weariness; he’s the kind of cop who holds on to a hunch when everyone else has given up.
Supporting performances add texture. A grizzled mentor for the thief provides the film’s older, harder edge, while a younger, unpredictable antagonist threatens to upend Mike’s carefully managed world. An insurance agent caught in the fallout gives the story a point of emotional friction; her arc supplies some of the film’s clearest motivations beyond the heist itself. Each actor helps steer viewer sympathies in subtle ways, ensuring the film feels populated with real, if archetypal, people.
Where it accelerates—and where it skids
Crime 101 is strongest when it leans into the mechanics of the game: follow‑ups, stakeouts, interior calculations that reveal character through choices rather than exposition. Layton times two car sequences well, offering bursts of pure cinematic propulsion amid otherwise deliberate rhythms. Those sequences deliver the visceral payoff a heist film should provide.
At times the film’s ambitions feel modest. Familiar tropes—the one last job, the mentor who turns away, the reckless young upstart—are deployed without much reinvention. Social commentary is hinted at but not developed with the same commitment as the procedural elements, which leaves some beats feeling peripheral. Yet the movie’s restraint is also its asset: it doesn’t overreach, and that makes for a focused genre piece rather than an overblown epic.
Overall, Crime 101 is a highly watchable entry in the modern heist canon. It won’t displace its loftier forebears, but it succeeds as a lean, stylish thriller powered by strong central performances and a director willing to let craft and control carry the day.
