Bart Layton's Crime 101 is the kind of movie Hollywood used to make all the time and rarely bothers with anymore. A slick, sun-bleached Los Angeles crime thriller about professionals on both sides of the law, built on competence, tension, and the quiet rhythms of people who are very good at what they do. It owes a massive debt to Michael Mann. The night driving sequences look like outtakes from Heat and Collateral, and the central triangle of thief, cop, and reluctant accomplice echoes Mann's fascination with men and women defined by their work. The good news is that the debt is mostly paid off.

Chris Hemsworth plays Mike Davis, a jewel thief who plans his scores with surgical precision and refuses to hurt anyone. He targets jewelry stores along the 101 highway, uses detailed intelligence on his targets to ensure compliance, and then vanishes. Hemsworth plays him quiet and controlled, miles away from his Thor persona. It works. There is something compelling about watching a physically imposing man exercise restraint rather than force. Mark Ruffalo's Detective Lou Lubesnick is the rumpled, dogged investigator who suspects a single thief is responsible for a string of unsolved robberies but cannot get his department to care. And Halle Berry plays Sharon Combs, an insurance broker who has spent decades being passed over, patronized, and sidelined by her firm, and who ultimately agrees to help Mike with one last score.

The film's strongest material involves the heist mechanics and the cat-and-mouse between Mike and Lou. Layton comes from documentaries and he brings that instinct for grounded detail to the crime sequences. The opening diamond interception is tense and efficient. A car chase midway through the film is legitimately startling because it looks and feels real rather than CGI-glossy. Barry Keoghan's Ormon, a volatile young biker hired to intercept Mike's next job, provides the wild-card menace the plot needs. Nick Nolte shows up as Money, the aging fence, looking rough and sounding rougher. Maybe ten minutes of screen time and he steals every one of them.

Where the film stumbles is in its social commentary, which is sincere but occasionally heavy-handed. Sharon's workplace subplot hits every beat you expect. Her boss is a smirking corporate villain who hands her clients to younger women, cites her age as a liability, and generally behaves like a walking HR violation. When Sharon finally tells him off and quits, it is satisfying on a visceral level, but the setup is so stacked that the moment feels manufactured rather than earned. The film wants us to understand that Sharon turns to crime because the system failed her. That framing is recognizable as the progressive narrative of institutional failure driving individual transgression.

Similarly, the film frames Mike's criminality through economic disadvantage. He grew up in poverty, cycled through foster homes, and turned to theft because legitimate paths were closed to him. The film is not interested in holding Mike morally accountable in any serious way. He is the cool protagonist and we are meant to root for him. There is a long tradition of this in crime cinema, from Cary Grant to Steve McQueen to the Ocean's franchise. But Crime 101 adds the progressive garnish of systemic explanation, as if liking a charming thief is not enough and we also need to understand that society made him this way.

Lou's subplot involves police corruption. He is suspended for refusing to help cover up a shooting. His department is more interested in optics than justice. This is a familiar trope that plays differently depending on your political lens. Conservatives might read it as a condemnation of bureaucratic rot. Progressives might read it as a critique of policing. The film is vague enough to support both readings, which is either admirably balanced or noncommittal, depending on your taste.

But here is the thing. For all its social commentary, the film's emotional engine runs on entirely traditional fuel. Mike is defined by self-reliance, discipline, and a personal code of honor. He abhors violence. He plans meticulously. He takes pride in his craft. These are fundamentally masculine virtues presented without irony or apology. Lou is a dogged professional who believes in doing the right thing even when his institution does not support him. Individual moral conviction over institutional pressure. That is about as conservative a value as you can find.

The climax earns its weight. Mike kills Ormon to save Lou's life, sacrificing his score to protect a man who was trying to arrest him. Lou lets Mike walk and frames Ormon for the robberies, sacrificing his strict adherence to the law for a deeper sense of justice. Both men lose something. Both men earn something. The resolution rewards personal agency and sacrifice over systemic solutions, and the final image of Mike reaching out to Maya with a childhood photo is small and human and unexpectedly moving. Conservative viewers should find more to enjoy here than to bristle at.

This is a solid night at the movies for adults who enjoy crime fiction. The woke elements are real but they sit alongside, rather than on top of, a fundamentally traditional crime narrative.

Trope	Category	Location	Authenticity
Redeemed Criminal (Systemic)	WOKE	Throughout — Mike Davis's criminality contextualized through impoverished childhood, foster care system, and lack of legitimate opportunity	Mixed. The charming thief is a time-honored genre archetype. The systemic-poverty backstory is the contemporary editorial addition substituting for personal accountability.
The Girl Boss	WOKE	Sharon's workplace subplot, 30-80 min — systematic passing-over, patronizing male superiors, cathartic quit speech, crime as liberation	Mixed. Berry's performance grounds the character but the writing stacks the deck with a cartoonish boss. Crime-as-liberation framing is the editorial amplification.
Institutional Evil	WOKE	Lou's police subplot throughout — LAPD portrayed as institutionally corrupt, suspended for refusing to participate in cover-up of police shooting	Mixed. Police corruption is real. The framing as systemic rather than individual, plus the police shooting cover-up specifically, adds contemporary political charge.
The Bigoted Traditionalist	WOKE	Sharon's workplace scenes — her boss cites her age as a liability, transfers clients to younger women, represents patriarchal corporate culture	Low. The character is too cartoonishly villainous to feel grounded.
Victimhood Meritocracy	WOKE	Throughout — all three protagonists positioned as victims of systems that failed them; heist framed as justice rather than crime	Mixed. Each individual grievance is plausible. The cumulative pattern of all three sharing systemic-victim templates is the editorial choice.
Race-Conscious Casting	WOKE	Throughout — Sharon Combs played by Halle Berry (race unspecified in source); det. partner played by Corey Hawkins	Borderline. The casting reflects industry trends without creating ideological distortion. Berry's race is not used as a narrative element.
Industry and Perseverance	TRADITIONAL	Throughout Mike's heist preparation — meticulous planning, discipline, professional excellence, contempt for shortcuts	Authentic. The film celebrates craft and mastery. Mike is compelling because he is genuinely good at what he does and works hard at it.
The Self-Sacrificing Hero	TRADITIONAL	Climax — Mike kills Ormon to save Lou's life and lets himself escape empty-handed; Lou frames Ormon and lets Mike walk, sacrificing his strict adherence to the law	Authentic. Mutual sacrifice operating on a code of personal honor that transcends legal categories. The emotional core of the film.
Masculine Competence	TRADITIONAL	Throughout — Mike's planning, Lou's deductive work, even Ormon's savage effectiveness presented as respectable demonstrations of skill	Authentic to the genre's DNA. The film takes unironic pleasure in watching men who are good at their jobs.
Personal Honor Code	TRADITIONAL	Throughout, particularly Mike's refusal of violence — no violence, meticulous planning, no collateral damage; code more important than any score	Authentic. Deeply rooted in the crime genre tradition from Le Samourai to Heat. Individual moral agency at its purest.
Romantic Vulnerability	TRADITIONAL	Mike and Maya subplot — film treats his emotional isolation as a genuine failing, not a cool affectation; childhood photo as a gesture of growth	Authentic. The film honors vulnerability within a masculine framework without feminizing the protagonist.
Defense of the Innocent	TRADITIONAL	Climax — Mike's only lethal act in the film is to protect Monroe and Lou from Ormon; breaks his own no-violence code to defend others	Authentic. The single act of violence is defensive, protective, and sacrificial. Reinforces that violence when necessary should protect the innocent.
Earned Redemption	TRADITIONAL	Final act — each character earns their resolution through action and sacrifice rather than institutional process or external validation	Authentic. Nobody gets a free pass. Outcomes are proportional to risk and sacrifice.
Loyalty and Brotherhood	TRADITIONAL	Climax and resolution — Mike-Lou adversarial bond becomes mutual respect; Mike leaves his car, Lou frames Ormon; bond forged through shared danger	Authentic. The Heat coffee-shop scene casts a long shadow over this genre and this film honors it well.