The year is 1983. Talk radio host Alan Berg (Marc Maron) is on the Colorado airwaves comically dressing down racist callers, while elsewhere across the Pacific Northwest, a series of armed robberies becomes a matter of concern — even more than usual — because of possible white supremacist ties. This is the backdrop of The Order, Justin Kurzel’s highly engrossing (if politically slight) police story, in which fictitious FBI officer Terry Husk (Jude Law) begins pulling on real-world threads with disturbingly modern implications.
Written by Zach Baylin, the film is based on Kevin Flynn and Gary Gerhardt’s late-’80s nonfiction book The Silent Brotherhood, which tells of a real white supremacist splinter group known as “the Order” (or “the Silent Brotherhood”), whose concerns with preserving white supremacy led them to meticulous acts of terror. It is, first and foremost, an incredibly fun movie, even if “fun” may not seem like the right approach for such volatile material.
This is, in part, because Kurzel finally discards his perpetually dour cinematic mindset, and replaces it with the thrills and frills of a Hollywood action drama. However, the film’s success is also owed to Law’s central performance as a lonely, no-nonsense cop for whom the work comes first, even if it drives him up the wall, and keeps him constantly on the verge of explosion.
What is The Order about?
Credit: Vertical Entertainment
Within its opening minutes, The Order depicts the dueling danger and ridiculousness of white supremacy, thanks to Maron’s distinctly Maron-esque version of Berg, a Jewish radio personality who fields calls from frustrated bigots looking for an outlet. His sharp and witty barbs can be heard even before the first images appear, though once they do, they present a stark contrast to this lively soundtrack. In the dead of night, a pair of neo-Nazis guns down one of their own for talking too much about their plans.
Berg is only shown on-screen a handful of times, but his show is the film’s de facto narrator, appearing at a handful intervals to remind us of the everyday form that antisemitism and white supremacy can take. While this makes for necessary comic relief, it’s also a vital contrast. Much of the movie depicts the more far-flung extremes of white supremacy, through fringe militias ready and willing to take violent action, but the recurrence of Berg’s voice keeps the Overton window from shifting too greatly; he reminds us that his easily dismissed callers and the movie’s armed factions bloom from the same seed.
Those familiar with Berg’s life will know how his story eventually intersects with that of the Order — a disorienting instance of narrator and narrative coming into contact — but outside of this moment, the movie mostly tells the story of two people. The first is Husk, appropriately named for his new lot in life after putting in for a transfer. The temperamental agent sits in the FBI’s sparse Idaho branch, waiting for his wife and children to join him, though they may as well be phantoms. He’s empty, and has nothing but the job.
The movie’s second major character is Robert Jay Matthews (Nicholas Hoult), who goes by Bob; he leads the Order through planning and pulling off armed robberies in order to fund a weapons stockpile. In contrast to Husk, Bob is charismatic, well-liked and always surrounded by people. The neo-Nazis he recruits consider him a brother. He has a wife and son at home, and even a pregnant mistress. Right from its basic premise, The Order establishes the allure of his cult: community and togetherness.
Husk, upon spotting suspicious “white pride” flyers around town, makes inquiries at the local sheriff’s office, though no one seems concerned except for rookie cop Jamie Bowen (Tye Sheridan), who more willingly spots these red flags since he has mixed race children, and is married to woman of color (Morgan Holmstrom, an actress of First Nations and Filipina ethnicity). With Bowen’s help, Husk begins making inquiries around town in the hopes to identifying the group’s ringleader, but Bob is always one step ahead, leading to a an exhilarating cat-and-mouse game involving deviously enjoyable heists and shootouts, albeit at the cost of examining the more challenging corners of its subject matter.
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The Order takes a functional approach to white supremacy.
Credit: Vertical Entertainment
As a period-specific film about a white supremacist cult, The Order resembles Spike Lee’s BlacKkKlansman at a distance, down to their use of shifting comedic and dramatic tones, urging viewers to take even the most ludicrous facets of white supremacy seriously. Distinguishing them is, of course, the fact that Lee’s film was about infiltration from within, while Kurzel’s is more of a chase — and the fact that Black experiences and perspectives are central to BlacKkKlansman.
The Order doesn’t necessarily have to follow the same path — its one Black FBI agent, played by Jurnee Smollett, delivers forceful dialogue but is mostly perfunctory — though it often leaves material on the table. BlacKkKlansman was by no means an exposé on white supremacy within policing (Lee has been criticized for this), but its haunting conclusion suggests that even the heroic actions of its Black police detective have done little to stymie the rise of American neo-Nazism in the long term. The Order avoids the question of race within policing altogether — the concept barely seems to exist outside of the confines of the cult — but these shortcomings also help streamline The Order, making it a worthwhile pulp procedural.
The film’s approach to white supremacy is best labeled “utilitarian.” Little by way of action or dialogue works to unearth the group’s underlying ideology — neo-Nazi characters discuss America no longer being “our country,” and hint at the economic downturn that may have driven them into Bob’s open arms — but The Order has an intense an unrelenting focus on the white supremacist playbook. Which is to say: The Order prominently features The Turner Diaries, William Luther Pierce’s 1978 neo-Nazi novel that lays out a detailed plan to overthrow the U.S. government, culminating in “The Day of the Rope,” i.e. the hanging of traitors at the U.S. Capitol.
If this fiction is eerily reminiscent of the January 6, 2021 insurrection, that’s no coincidence. The Turner Diaries has long informed white supremacist rhetoric in America, as well as QAnon-like conspiracy theories. The book and its pages appear throughout the film, both as a blueprint for Bob and a not-so-subtle clue for Husk and Bowen, who use its pages to convince the FBI to divert its resources to taking down the Order. In centering the book to this degree, the film becomes a premonition of sorts, a warning that events which have recently come to pass — and might again, in the near future — don’t exist in a vacuum.
The Order is Kurzel’s most accomplished piece of filmmaking.
Credit: Vertical Entertainment
There’s an argument to be made that The Order is a B-movie in the body of a prestigious “issue” drama. There’s just as valid an argument that it’s Kurzel’s best movie, a metamorphosis akin to the last decade of M. Night Shyamalan’s career — which include films like The Visit, Glass, Old, and Trap — in that both filmmakers have finally gotten out of their own way and embraced cinematic “trash.”
Kurzel’s films have, for the most part, been steeped in grief and death. This has led to some intriguing experiments, like his 2015 Macbeth adaptation, in which Lady Macbeth’s plot is born out of mourning the loss of a child (the film, while pleasing to the eye, is far too long). On the other hand, it has also led to oddities like 2016’s Assassin’s Creed, a video game movie that forgets to have fun. With The Order, Kurzel remembers that fun is still possible even within macabre confines, and he shoulders Law with embodying this energetic paradox.
Law’s character, Husk, is a sad sack on the verge of madness. His “bad cop” routine is his baseline, and though he doesn’t bounce off the walls like, say, Nicolas Cage in Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans, he belongs in the same conversation. His nose bleeds at regular intervals (due to his medication, he claims), though at one point, when he’s particularly eager to “lean on” a suspect, he does so quite literally, going freak-mode during an impromptu interrogation and bleeding all over him. It’s wildly silly, though thank God for Law’s refusal to artificially repair his hairline; the actor’s widow’s peak not only makes Husk a more realistic presence, but a more menacing one as well.
In contrast, Hoult crafts Bob as a charming, measured, and ostensibly “regular” guy. He would be downright affable, were it not for the Nazi swastikas in his garage. While Husk and Bob have few on-screen meetings, their dichotomy is discomforting. Hoult — who’s playing Lex Luthor in James Gunn’s just-wrapped Superman: Legacy — plays his neo-Nazi character as though he were a Boy Scout, like Superman. Meanwhile, Law’s approach to his altruistic, obsessive lawman can be oddly frightening, as though joining the Order had borne more immediate fruits and payoffs than trying to bring them down; you can see why people join.
However, this upside-down approach to hero and villain also plants the seeds for a typically Kurzel turn. In the film’s final act, the unrelenting fatalism of his films like Nitram, True History of the Kelly Gang, and The Snowtown Murders returns with a vengeance, as though he couldn’t resist the delayed gratification. Only this time, rather than adding mere texture, the late arrival of this tonal despondency feels earned, as if an extension of these characters’ lives. It’s reminiscent of Michael Mann’s Heat, in that Husk and Bob are men so driven and obsessed with their goals that they push everyone away in the process.
The Order seldom slows down, skillfully building to each new action crescendo with the help of Jed Kurzel’s rumbling, unrelentingly energetic score. It may not have anything novel to say about race in America — whether then or now — but its broad reminders of the mechanics of neo-Nazi terror feel mostly justified by the movie’s brisk, deftly modulated pace. That it’s an action movie in the body of something more “prestigious” or important ought to feel insulting, but really, it’s been the key to Kurzel’s necessary transformation all along.
The Order was reviewed was reviewed out of its world premiere at the 2024 Venice International Film Festival. It will open in select theaters Dec. 6.
