There is perhaps no more appropriate setting for a film about the attention economy than a movie that seems almost pathologically incapable of holding an audience’s attention without throwing something new onto the screen every few seconds.
In an age when filmmakers increasingly borrow the visual language of social media to make their movies feel contemporary, David Leitch’s How to Rob a Bank takes that impulse to a grating extreme. What begins as an intriguing premise about a gang of internet-famous bank robbers quickly deteriorates into an incoherent, profoundly artificial exercise in overstimulation, one that mistakes frantic editing, flashy graphics, and algorithm-friendly aesthetics for compelling filmmaking.
How to Rob a Bank centers on a group of criminals (Nicholas Hoult, Anna Sawai, Pete Davidson, Rhenzy Feliz) who livestream their bank heists and turn their criminal exploits into viral online spectacles. Presenting themselves as anti-establishment provocateurs rather than conventional thieves, the crew quickly develops an enormous internet following, attracting the attention of veteran FBI agent John West (John C. Reilly). With the assistance of Reagan Gardner (Zoë Kravitz), a skilled cybercriminal recruited to help track down the perpetrators, West attempts to bring an end to the crew’s increasingly audacious robberies.
On paper, there is plenty of potential with the premise of Leitch’s latest film. A contemporary heist thriller built around the intersection of internet celebrity, economic inequality, online radicalism, and the increasingly blurred distinction between entertainment and real-world criminality could make for a fascinating piece of genre filmmaking.
Unfortunately, How to Rob a Bank seems far more interested in looking like a movie about the internet than actually understanding how the internet works. Its depiction of social media, online communities, viral content, and digital surveillance proves so cartoonish and fundamentally misguided that it becomes difficult to take any of the film's central developments seriously. Rather than offering an insightful examination of internet culture, Leitch settles for an embarrassingly superficial collection of hashtags, livestreams, flashy graphics, and conveniently timed viral moments.
The film's greatest misunderstanding is its representation of online virality, which feels less like an authentic reflection of contemporary digital behavior and more like the product of someone who has spent a few afternoons scrolling through TikTok and decided they understand the entire landscape. The mechanics of online attention, the behavior of digital communities, and the ways in which information actually spreads are reduced to a series of convenient narrative devices.
There is virtually no distinction between having an online following and wielding genuine cultural influence, nor does the film demonstrate much awareness of how difficult it would be to sustain the kind of public criminal spectacle its protagonists orchestrate. Everything happens precisely when the screenplay needs it to, with little regard for plausibility.
This fundamental disconnect extends to the film's approach to its central characters, who are less actual human beings and more walking talking points in a half-baked argument about American capitalism. Each member of the #HTRAB crew has a personal grievance that ostensibly justifies their increasingly outrageous behavior, with the film leaning heavily on familiar frustrations surrounding financial insecurity and the unaffordability of basic necessities like health care.
These are undeniably legitimate issues, and there is nothing inherently wrong with exploring them through the framework of a crime thriller. The problem is that How to Rob a Bank has virtually nothing interesting to say about any of them. Its protagonists are so thinly conceived that their motivations feel like bullet points on a political pamphlet rather than the foundations of compelling character development.
Labeling the characters caricatures would arguably be generous. Nicholas Hoult and Anna Sawai, two performers more than capable of bringing considerable nuance to their roles, are given remarkably little opportunity to establish any meaningful chemistry or personality.
Indeed, one of the more baffling creative decisions is how rarely the viewers actually sees either actor speak without a mask covering their face. Much of their dialogue is delivered through prerecorded videos, livestreams, and other forms of mediated communication, leaving the audience with precious few opportunities to connect with the people beneath the disguises.
Pete Davidson receives a comparatively more substantial role as a former soldier motivated by his responsibilities to his wife and young daughter. There are glimpses of something more interesting in his character, and Davidson demonstrates an occasional willingness to venture beyond the comedic persona audiences have come to expect from him. Nevertheless, his performance is ultimately constrained by the same woefully underwritten material that undermines everyone else.
On the other side of the investigation, John C. Reilly provides one of the film's few genuinely welcome presences as FBI agent John West. Having spent decades pursuing bank robbers, West finds himself confronted with an especially unusual challenge in a group that has managed to turn its crimes into an online phenomenon. Reilly possesses an effortless screen presence that can make even the most underdeveloped character considerably more watchable, and he brings a welcome degree of personality to a role that otherwise offers very little.
For a filmmaker whose previous work has demonstrated such an enthusiasm for kinetic action, Leitch's inability to inject How to Rob a Bank with even a modest degree of genuine personality is particularly disappointing. The movie is certainly energetic, but energy alone does not constitute entertainment, and its relentless commitment to visual stimulation eventually becomes more irritating than invigorating. The editing is incessant, the graphics are overwhelming, and the constant barrage of on-screen information gives the impression that the film is desperately afraid of allowing the audience even a moment to process what is happening.
As the credits roll, it becomes clear that How to Rob a Bank is a flashy exercise in style without substance. Its characters are barely developed, its central premise strains credibility at virtually every turn, and its understanding of the internet feels several years removed from reality. The result is a remarkably disposable piece of filmmaking that is every bit as shallow as the digital culture it seemingly hopes to critique.
With the depth, sophistication, and lingering impact of a flashy TikTok or Instagram reel, How to Rob a Bank offers a brief rush of colors, cuts, and algorithmically engineered excitement before disappearing from memory almost as quickly as it arrived. It is not an exaggeration to say it is the cinematic equivalent of mindless midnight scrolling: superficially stimulating, relentlessly noisy, and ultimately devoid of anything meaningful to say.
The film opens Friday, November 13, only in movie theaters, via Amazon MGM Studios. Visit its official site for locations and showtimes.