Antitrust (2001)

Antitrust is a slick, turn-of-the-millennium techno-thriller that turns the dot-com dream into a paranoid cat-and-mouse game, and it’s most fun when it leans into that jittery sense that every screen is watching back. Tim Robbins is terrific as the charismatic CEO whose smiles feel just a beat too rehearsed, giving the film a villain with real gravitational pull while Ryan Phillippe plays the wide-eyed idealist in way that keeps the stakes personal, not just procedural. Director Peter Howitt keeps the pace brisk and the atmosphere glossy-cold, mixing corporate seduction with sudden jolts of danger as the story tightens its grip. It’s not the deepest take on tech power, and some of its early-2000s gadgetry has aged, but if you’re in the mood for an energetic, PG-13 conspiracy ride with sharp performances and genuine thrills, it’s an easy watch to recommend.

Antitrust wants to be a slick, early-2000s tech paranoia thriller about corporate power, surveillance, and what happens when your dream job comes with a nightmare NDA. The problem is it plays like a checklist of conspiratorial clichés—big twists you can see coming, “genius” hacking that feels more like movie magic than tension, and a story that keeps escalating into silliness instead of suspense. Performances are serviceable at best, with Tim Robbins doing the heavy lifting while the rest often feel stuck delivering dialogue that doesn’t sound like real humans. If you enjoy pulpy, dated techno-thrillers and can laugh along with the melodrama, it’s an easy watch; if you want sharp writing, believable stakes, or a grounded take on the industry, this will likely waste your time.