A Kind of Murder (2016)

A Kind of Murder is the kind of sleek, cigarette-smoke thriller that doesn’t just tell you a story so much as pull you into a mood: 1960s New York rendered in cool lines, dim corners, and moral shadows that feel lived-in. Patrick Wilson is terrific as a man whose quiet, well-tailored life starts to look like a disguise, and the film’s noir sensibility makes every conversation feel like it has teeth, especially once a relentless detective begins tightening the screws. It’s less a puzzle-box whodunit than a slow, unsettling study of obsession, guilt, and how easily “innocent” thoughts can start to resemble intent. If you need clean answers and tidy twists, it may frustrate you—but if you like ambiguity, period atmosphere, and a creeping sense of dread that lingers after the credits, it’s absolutely worth the trip.

A Kind of Murder is clearly aiming for a classy, 1960s Hitchcock-lite psychological thriller about obsession, guilt, and the fantasy of “getting away with it.” It looks the part—moody New York atmosphere, polished cinematography, and solid, serious-faced performances from Patrick Wilson and Jessica Biel—but the story often feels more like a chilly exercise than a gripping descent. The plotting can come off convoluted without being truly surprising, and the characters are drawn so thinly that the tension never quite tightens, leaving the pacing to drift when it should be squeezing. If you want a twisty, high-stakes thriller with escalating dread, you may find it underpowered; if you’re happy with a stylish, slow-burn morality tale that’s more restrained than thrilling, it might still be worth your time.