Hammy acting and predictive horror elements shortchanged No Good Deed, the latest thriller directed by Sam Miller, in a very problematic way. It could have been a cutting portrayal of gender-clashing dynamics. But it felt more like a dull, cat-mouse revenge kick with no lingering complexity to it by story’s end.
Right off the bat, we know Colin’s (Idris Elba) imprisonment is the result of killing five people after swinging into a violent rage. At his probation hearing, one committee member condemns Colin of “malignant narcissism,” or a condition that reinforces self-importance and a lack of empathy for others. It’s an essential precursor that legitimizes all of Colin’s actions for the rest of the film. I would take it one step further and say that Colin is a hyper-driven, medically-stamped example of toxic masculinity.
Following Colin’s escape, more bodies hit the floor. But more importantly, the film transitions to female spaces.
Taraji P. Henson plays Terri, a wife and mother of two young girls. Henson projects a degree too far when portraying the ever-present and concerned mother figure; you feel it for the performance that it is. The same goes for scenes with an absent and passive husband, who subtly reminds Terri it was by choice that she is at home and not working anymore.
When Colin arrives under the victim-guise of getting in a car accident during a storm, there’s a textbook horror trope of leaving the door ajar as Terri runs off to answer the call of her child. The collective audience “what are you thinking?” is clear. But it remains only that: a trope. Colin doesn’t have to sneak in when Terri’s too-telling sympathy feels for a stranger having to wait in the downpour.
It’s this act that makes you question the film’s title. Is it a warning that there are no good deeds in a fundamentally sick world or a full-stop of the adage “no good deed goes unpunished?” If it’s the latter, then it stands to reason that the film is propagating that Terri asked for the consequences that follow her good deed.
The signs of Colin’s status as a malignant narcissist are not so much nuanced out as they are blatantly triggered when he confronts Terri and, eventually, her friend Meg (Leslie Bibb). It’s practically Psychology 101 class when Colin discovers Terri’s marital and motherly struggles, as well as a medicine cabinet of Hydroxycut and other weight loss pills, and uses those insecurities to project his own. This and his tenuous sense of control are called out by the women in the film, spawning yet another psyche sign of narcissistic behavior: rage when their own idea of self-perfection is questioned.
In one particular scene, Terri reveals to Colin that before deciding to be a stay-at-home mom, she worked for the district attorney’s office as a lawyer in homicide cases. She hits the nail on the head when she explains how the accused men were often related or close to their victims and were just plain “weak.” To say the least, it bristles Colin.
What follows is an all-out mortal combat between Terri and Colin. Guns, knives, fists and various household items become weapons.
One surprising twist arrives toward the end of the film and truly confirms that Terri is surrounded on all sides by dangerous and untrustworthy men. How she decides to resolve this fact of life induced a resounding “hell yeah!” from all the female movie-goers in attendance, maybe even some of the men.
Even still, the conclusion is too neat and too cheesy. It almost effectively sweeps everything that occurred under rug.
