Caught Stealing (2025): A Home Run… or Just a Ground Out?

Hank Thompson, a burned-out ex-baseball player, stumbles into a brutal criminal underworld in 1990s New York City. He’s forced to survive among gangsters, crooks, and low-lifes in a violent maze that makes the ’90s look less like Friends reruns and more like Goodfellas with fewer jokes.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1oGM3uuznD4

Okay, so I just sat through Caught Stealing, and let me tell you, this flick is grittier than the floor mats of a mid-90s New York City taxi after a Knicks game. We’re talking blood, beer, and a little bit of that charming ’90s cynicism - like the decade itself had a baby with a car crash.

Now, full disclosure: I’m a sucker for a 1990s throwback. Give me VHS fuzz, flannel shirts, and a soundtrack that sounds like somebody accidentally recorded a Pearl Jam sound check, and I’m halfway sold. But this movie doesn’t exactly stop at nostalgia. No, it grabs you by the Mets cap and drags you into the gutter of Manhattan’s underbelly, where the rent is cheap but the body count is astronomical.

Austin Butler stars as Hank Thompson, a washed-up ex-baseball player. And if you’re expecting a sports drama, forget it. This isn’t Field of Dreams; it’s more like Field of Nightmares, where instead of whispering “If you build it, he will come,” the cornfield screams “If you cross him, you’ll bleed out in a stairwell.” Butler nails it, though. The guy’s got the chops. I mean, after Elvis, the kid could’ve coasted on hip swivels and snarl alone. But here, he goes full shadow-self - channeling inner demons like he’s auditioning for The Sopranos spinoff we never got.

Backing him up is Zoë Kravitz as Yvonne, who manages to elevate every scene she’s in by doing that thing Kravitz does: existing on screen and somehow making you wonder if you’ve been living life entirely wrong. Regina King shows up as Detective Roman - because, apparently, she’s the only adult in the room. The woman could read parking tickets out loud and still look like she’s solving systemic corruption. And Matt Smith? Oh, buddy. His Russ character is creepy in that “Does this guy sell insurance or human organs?” kind of way. Liev Schreiber and Vincent D’Onofrio fill out the rogues’ gallery like pros, both of them chewing scenery like it was the last pastrami sandwich in Queens.

The film itself is violent. And I don’t mean Tarantino-blood-spray-artsy-violent. I mean bone-crunching, teeth-on-the-curb, “you might want to hold off on that second slice of pepperoni” violent. It’s darker than advertised too. The trailers had me thinking this was Snatch by way of Major League. Instead, I got Requiem for a Dream with brass knuckles.

And look, I like a good gritty crime story as much as the next guy. But there were times the movie slowed down so much I thought my remote had buffering issues. Long pauses, unnecessary nudity, and foreshadowing so obvious it felt like the director was running a PowerPoint with bullet points like “THIS CHARACTER WILL DIE IN 15 MINUTES.” Subtlety? Nah, that must’ve gotten caught stealing too.

Then there’s the ending. Without spoiling anything, let’s just say it felt unfinished. Like the filmmakers ran out of film stock - or maybe just patience. The credits rolled, and I thought, “That’s it? Did my theater forget to splice in the last reel?” And the message? Let’s just say it lands somewhere between nihilistic and “don’t quit your day job.”

Now, cinematography geeks will find things to admire. There are shots here - angles, lighting, textures—that scream “art house director moonlighting on a crime flick.” Certain sequences feel like the DP got bored and thought, “What if I mounted the camera on a drunk pigeon?” And it works. Sometimes.

What makes this movie worth the watch, though, is Austin Butler. He’s got that brooding intensity that says, “Yeah, I’ve seen things, but I’ve also read poetry about those things.” And when the action ramps up, he’s believable. He’s not just swinging fists - he’s carrying the emotional weight of a guy who had dreams once, and now his dreams are in a dumpster behind a Brooklyn bar. Butler even admitted his movie mom helped him figure out how to handle dark roles. That’s sweet. My mom helped me balance a checkbook. His movie mom helps him metabolize trauma while beating up Russian gangsters. Parenting styles, am I right?

So, where does that leave Caught Stealing? Somewhere between “solid effort” and “I’ll probably forget about it when Netflix asks if I’m still watching.” It’s violent, stylish, occasionally brilliant, but also uneven and frustratingly predictable in parts. Think of it like a Yankees season in the ’90s: flashes of glory, but a few too many strikeouts.

Final score? I’m giving this one a 6.8 out of 10. Decent game, but not Hall of Fame material.

#CaughtStealing #AustinButler #ZoëKravitz #ReginaKing #MattSmith #CrimeDrama #MovieReview #FilmBlog #90sVibes #DarkCinema