All The Devils Are Here Review
With his debut feature, All the Devils Are Here, Barnaby Roper crafts a familiar atmospheric thriller that offers sleek and stylish surprises. We comfortably slip into the usual tropes and characters of typical British crime thriller fare: guns, money, violence, and choice language. However, Roper takes an original approach, swiftly pulling his central characters away from their criminal activity and setting them down in a run-down safehouse where there is nothing to do but drink, bicker and wait for more orders to come in.
All the Devils Are Here follows four criminals in the tense aftermath of a mismanaged heist. There’s Ronnie (Eddie Marsan), the hardened career criminal, who doesn’t stand for any unnecessary funny business; Grady (Sam Claflin), the volatile wild card with a short fuse and a taste for violence; and Royce (Tienne Simon), the quiet rookie, somewhat in over his head. What was meant to be a clean job spirals into chaos when a guard is violently killed by Grady, forcing the trio to flee with the money and blood on their hands. They rendezvous with a shadowy figure known only as Numbers (Burn Gorman)—a heroin addicted accountant for the operation—who stashes them in a crumbling, isolated safehouse.
They wait in uncertainty for their next move with only each other for company. Spirts are high to begin with; the group start each day with a full English breakfast and bottles of booze to sup from, but food and resources quickly dry up, and their mealtimes become rations of cabbage and beans alongside empty cups. Things break apart, the walls begin to close in, and fractures in their uneasy alliance threaten to blow up at any moment.
A moment early in the film quietly sets it apart from the familiar beats of the crime thriller genre. Shortly after arriving at the safehouse, Ronnie glances at his wristwatch and notices the hands have stopped. He shrugs it off, assuming the watch was damaged in the chaos of the heist, and moves on without a second thought. However, the image of the frozen hands of time strikes up a sense of something more, as if the men have arrived in the timeless waiting room of purgatory. From this moment on, we’re on our toes, waiting for the hands of time to begin ticking once more.
Once the men settle into the safehouse, the film transforms into a stifling chamber piece, where tension simmers and festers as the empty days drag on. The criminals’ growing distrust of one another—punctuated by sharp-tongued bickering and simmering suspicion—recalls the volatile dynamic of Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs. Roper takes things further, weaving in a creeping sense of paranoia that gradually distorts reality. He balances intense, tightly wound performances with an ambiguous, at times surreal narrative that evokes the psychological unease of Robert Eggers’ The Lighthouse. It’s a bold, absorbing blend of genre elements that results in an engrossing and claustrophobic viewing experience. While the film occasionally struggles to maintain the taut control of its impressive opening act, Roper’s command of mood and character signals a confident debut.
Eddie Marsan is a steady pair of hands, adding depth and vulnerability to his role. Ronnie is the man you call if you want a job done right, and he doesn’t falter when it comes to keeping order. Yet Marsan softens the character with a human edge, particularly in a tender scene where he urges the young and impressionable Royce not to follow the same path he did. The standout, however, in All the Devils Are Here is undeniably Sam Claflin as Grady, delivering a nearly unrecognisable performance. Inhabiting the role with unnerving intensity, Claflin captures every detail—from the aggressive globs of spit he hurls at the ground when angered, to the casual ease with which he speaks about violence.
There’s a nastiness in him that feels truly lived-in, a meanness that pulses just beneath the surface. Burn Groman is reliably slimy as Numbers, injecting the safehouse with an enigmatic, distrustful energy. His unreadable presence adds a constant undercurrent of tension. Meanwhile, Tienne Simon offers a much-needed dose of empathy as Royce, the newcomer caught in a life he doesn’t yet understand. His performance gives the group a sliver of humanity, grounding the story in something more than hardened cynicism. Watching these characters jostle for dominance in their crumbling, purgatorial hideout makes All the Devils Are Here a riveting drama.
While there are a few clunky plot beats here and there, All the Devils Are Here stands as a confident and compelling debut. Roper shows a deep understanding of the British crime thriller, but crucially, he’s not content to mimic. He has a unique flair and willingness to lean into the surreal that make the film feel fresh. With terrific central performances and a bold sense of atmosphere, it’s a great addition to the genre.
★★★★
On digital download from September 26th / Eddie Marsan, Sam Claflin, Burn Gorman, Tienee Simon, Rory Kinnear, Suki Waterhouse / Dir: Barnaby Roper / Paramount / 15
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