South of Heaven (2021)

South of Heaven is the kind of crime thriller that sneaks up on you: it’s built on grit and suspense, but it’s the bruised tenderness at its center that lingers. Jason Sudeikis delivers a surprisingly grounded dramatic turn, and opposite Evangeline Lilly he finds a chemistry that makes every quiet moment feel hard-won, like love trying to breathe in a world that won’t slow down. Director Aharon Keshales keeps the tone tense and restless, folding romance and dread together until you’re not just watching a plan unfold—you’re feeling the cost of every choice. It’s not for everyone, especially if heavy language, drugs, and a rough-edged atmosphere are dealbreakers, but if you’re open to a soulful, doomed love story wrapped in a tight crime-drama vise, it’s absolutely worth the trip.

South of Heaven clearly wants to be a bittersweet, doomed-love crime drama about a man trying to do one decent thing after prison, and that intention is easy to respect. The problem is the execution: the dialogue often sounds like it’s hitting familiar “crime thriller” beats on autopilot, and the story asks for leaps of believability that can make the stakes feel oddly flat instead of urgent. It also wobbles tonally, starting with sincere romantic tragedy and sliding into a more generic, underpowered thriller groove that doesn’t land the emotional punch it’s aiming for. If you’re here for a tight, surprising crime plot or nuanced character writing, you may feel your time slipping away—but if you can ride with a slow-burn, melancholy setup and don’t mind heavy profanity and substance use, there are moments of atmosphere and committed performances to latch onto.