In all seriousness to this meme prompt, I think my villain origin story is that we — the United States millennial collective — are expected to put so much effort into essentially living a Catch-22 . We pay an exorbitant amount of money to attend college in order to sustain on livable wages and then spend a percentage of those livable wages trying to pay that debt off. I live in fear of financial mishaps where the balance can be thrown off course. I visualize this fear as a large, black metallic vessel that is supposed to represent the bubble that will someday “burst” but presently resides as a heavy psychological weight. I know there is so much discourse about this that’s been said by more intelligent people, but sometimes the reiteration of a dark truth can numb the anxiety.

Taking this into account, do we root for Emily, a college dropout who gets herself entangled in blue-collar crimes to help pay off her student loans? In Emily the Criminal, the relatability of crippling debt is molded for the modern college student — past, present, and future. Through her catering delivery job, Emily (Aubrey Plaza) barely scratches the surface of her monthly interest rates, let alone making a dent to her principal debt. When she is introduced to a group that commits credit card fraud, the enticing nature of the get-rich-quick scheme is irresistible despite the danger of getting caught. The crimes, led by Youcef (Theo Rossi) and his relative Khalil (Jonathan Avigdori), work in an MLM-type manner: she buys a $2000 TV using a fake credit card and earns $200. If she’s successful in pulling that off, she is given a card with a higher credit limit where she can make a bigger purchase and earn a higher cut from it.

The film has an unmentionable that dangles in front of us at times: Emily has a felony charge of assault, which reasoning is smartly revealed later in a critical breaking point (though I don’t know how strongly I feel about the crime’s relevance to the rest of the movie). It’s clear that this has set her back professionally, and it is an unspoken topic between her and her longtime friend Liz (Megalyn Echikunwoke). Plaza, known for her deadpan deliveries that usually hit the target (it would behoove me to mention her musical number during her hosting gig at the Film Independent Spirit Awards in unadulterated Plaza fashion), successfully flips the comedy switch for a performance of a haunted woman. In the opening scene, in which Emily is interviewed about any criminal activity she may have done, she believably lies about a DUI but then incredulously displays the face of a trapped animal when her interviewer admits that he ran a background check and found the assault charge. The existence of student loans isn’t surprising, but Plaza’s ability to execute a character outside of April Ludgate (or, broadly, her “evil hag” persona) was a sight unseen for me.

Outside of her financial woes, Emily’s identity isn’t made clear. She stresses about money and itches at the next opportunity for growth. She likes to draw and wants to travel to South America when she gets the chance. But is she a good person? When she becomes John Wick after strangers kidnap Liz’s dog (under her care), is it because 1) she likes Dachshunds, 2) she is afraid of ruining their friendship, or 3) she doesn’t like to be taken advantage of? Maybe it’s all three. At times, I can’t tell if we’re supposed to believe that there is a darkness inside Emily that is kicked and pushed around until it’s inverted. If so, I sorta wish they devised a descent of ludicrous ends. But I think Emily serves as a representative of normal people in bad circumstances. She acts as impulsively and amateurishly as panicked normal people do, which lends to the armchair-gripping tension in some scenes because it really feels like the plan is going to fail.

Student loan repayments are scheduled to resume at the end of the month. I’ve evaded news of loan forgiveness, as the rejection of such a relief would be more disappointment. Hot take: how about harmless crime forgiveness in response to financial ruins?

Emily the Criminal
2022
dir. John Patton Ford
93 min.

Now playing at Kendall Square Cinema