The last thing you would expect from the director of 12 Years a Slave is quasi-remake of a 1983 ITV series written by Lynda LaPlante. Regardless, Steve McQueen has made Widows, the story of four women whose criminal husbands die on a job, leaving them to deal with grief, children, and – above all – debt. McQueen and co-screenwriter Gillian Flynn are talented enough to make what happens next not seem too contrived: the widows decide to finish the heist their husbands weren’t able to complete.

The film succeeds mainly because McQueen and Flynn are able to convince you how desperate these women are: Veronica (Viola Davis, always terrific) has been left with a million dollar debt to a crime boss. Linda (Michelle Rodriguez) has her shop repossessed while trying to support two kids. Alice (Elizabeth Debicki) is grappling with newfound freedom having escaped abuse. Belle (Cynthia Erivo) realises she has been caught up in the complex racial politics of the film’s setting, Chicago.

Veronica brings them together, all while the ward’s alderman election (think city council) unfolds, with corruption rife on both sides. The likes of Colin Farrell and Daniel Kaluuya do their best to make this side-plot as compelling as the central story.

McQueen sets himself one hell of a challenge with a chessboard of a plot as complex as this. As with all heist films, much of the first half is spent pushing pieces into place. The exposition is handled mostly without incident, but all that set-up can prove a little wearisome forty minutes in. Such is characteristic of the genre, as is a climactic third act job which McQueen mostly avoids here. The heist itself is an incredibly tense experience, but it is brief. Instead, he prefers to explore the motivations of his characters and dedication to building such stakes make the consequences of the heist even more interesting than the job itself. Gone is the frothy charm of the likes of Ocean’s Eleven; Widows has tangible, heartbreaking consequences.

Such consequences mostly materialise themselves through Viola Davis’s son Marcus, a victim of an appalling (and all too real) race crime, which is both emotionally devastating and just one example of the barbed insight McQueen offers into American politics. He, more than most of his peers, is able to viscerally convey the sense of burning injustice which accompanies these crimes. The titular widows may be felons in the making, but they have been ground down by the more powerful figures in their lives, or have had their backs forced against the wall. The audience cannot help but feel for them – Debicki’s character does not quite know what to do with her new-found autonomy and McQueen makes a point of sustaining the motif of her abuse. This is perhaps the best example of how these women are able to regain control of their lives, thanks to this one job. Their agency is so entangled within these men’s lives, even once they’re dead, and reflects the intricacies of the film’s feminist credentials. McQueen and Flynn (writer of Gone Girl) are not afraid to shy away from such shades of grey. They make a formidable team, their strengths meshing, not clashing. The latter’s ability to create fascinating female characters proves well matched by McQueen’s ability to spur tension and rage with as much nuance as the subject requires.

Beyond these thorny issues, he manages to have a little more fun with the story than any of his previous efforts have allowed, all while refusing to undercut the seriousness of his politics. It is hardly a laugh a minute, but there is a certain thrill to watching McQueen manoeuvre his chess pieces so deftly. There are a couple of missteps: one late twist feels contrived, but even then the strength of the actors involved allows the emotional impact of such to hit home regardless. It may have inherited many tropes of its genre, but the film’s checkmate isn’t the euphoria of the heist’s completion. McQueen opts for a more understated ending and the consequent silence once the credits start to roll leave the audience ruminating, not cheering. Widows‘ premise begs for comparisons to this year’s other all-female heist, but it proves to be a darker, angrier cousin of the Ocean’s franchise. There is still fun to be had, but expect to leave the theatre rattled, not beaming.

Verdict:

Steve McQueen and Gillian Flynn’s formidable script is matched by a tremendous cast in a heist film which may make a couple of bad moves but ultimately plays a thrilling game. 

Rating: 8/10