Henry Johnson is David Mamet’s first theatrical feature in 18 years. The Pulitzer-winning playwright-turned-filmmaker has since been an outspoken proponent of what he calls “the tragic view,” the idea that man is sinful, life is complicated, and when faced with moral choices, we are often obliged to choose between two evils. The movie, which is adapted almost verbatim from Mamet’s 2023 play, is an extension of this gloomy worldview, and rests on the notion that there are only two kinds of people in the world: players and dupes.
Henry Johnson (Evan Jonigkeit) is a dupe — as common and morally generic as his name would suggest. A 30-ish lawyer with the bland good looks of a menswear model, he is summoned to the office of a senior partner (Mamet veteran Chris Bauer, who is excellent) in the firm where he presumably works. In an electrifying conversation that slowly turns into an interrogation, it is revealed that he embezzled money to pay a friend — an ex-felon with whom he was infatuated — in need. The following scenes take place in prison, where hapless Henry is serving time alongside his cellmate, Gene, played with coiled-viper energy by Shia LaBeouf. Their relational dynamic takes on the form of master-apprentice familiar to fans of the Mametsphere. Gene takes it upon himself to teach Henry about life, about winners and losers and how to bend women to his will and get what you want. But he’s also concealing something, a hidden motive, that comes into focus in the fullness of time.
Nobody since the death of Harold Pinter can sharpen the verbal knives quite like Mamet, and Henry Johnson marks a return to one of his favorite subjects: the balance of power.
Essentially a faithful translation of the play, Mamet as director makes no attempt to “open out” the piece by stocking it with superfluous moments or characters. There are four scenes and four speaking parts — all men — in its lean, 85-minute runtime. (Dominic Hoffman, another Mamet veteran, is very good as the prison guard who patrols the library, where the final scene unfolds.) Everything is laser-focused and deadly serious, even to the cusp of self-parody. Those allergic to Mamet-speak, with its ritualistic repetitions and interruptions, will find no relief here.
If Mamet were any less of a writer, the whole exercise could come across as insufferably pretentious, with long, ponderous monologues rife with macho posturing. Take, as Exhibit H or so, a key speech, delivered by Gene, which hypothesizes that the ogre who puts a spell on the fairy tale princess and the handsome prince who frees her is in fact the same man in disguise, testing to see if slavery has improved her mood. But nobody since the death of Harold Pinter can sharpen the verbal knives quite like Mamet, and Henry Johnson marks a return to one of his favorite subjects: the balance of power.
Viewers who missed the original production at L.A.’s Electric Lodge, staged amidst the recent WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes, will appreciate a chance to see what they were missing. All four original actors reprise their roles — it was LaBeouf’s stage debut — and there is an invisible intelligence, a discernible pattern, that keeps you glued to your seat. Each scene is set up as an elaborate trap (or “con,” if you prefer), with the titular character in the position of an unfortunate mouse in the path of spring-loaded, cast-iron jaws. Mamet’s actual feelings toward Henry and his predicament are a little harder to discern. If the film imagines a hostile universe in which there are only two species of human — the player and the played — Mamet leaves room for doubt as to which one he prefers. ❖
Henry Johnson is available for rent online or at select theatrical screenings.
Nathaniel Bell is a Los Angeles–based writer who has been writing for L.A. Weekly and the Village Voice since 2021.