Spoilers ahead...
The film kicks off with an assault on the eardrums - thumping, obnoxious music that introduces our "macho-cop" protagonists. We are presented with a world of tattoos and biceps, led by Dave Bautista and Bobby Cannavale. The disparity in talent here is jarring. Cannavale is, as expected, entirely convincing; he outclasses every other person on screen, delivering a performance that belongs in a much better movie.
On the other hand, Bautista is a massive letdown. Playing the "action-man" father, he comes across less like a seasoned professional and more like a bewildered, tattooed gorilla. He mutters his lines with a lack of conviction that makes it impossible to buy into his emotional stakes. Even worse is his portrayal of a DEA agent; his character is wildly unprofessional, easily goaded by prisoners and lacking any semblance of tactical restraint. Joining the disappointment is Tony Dalton. After his legendary, menacing turn as Lalo in Better Call Saul, seeing him wasted here is a tragedy. Whether it’s poor directing or a paper-thin script, his "villainy" feels toothless and recycled.
The film’s primary failure is its obsession with its teenage cast. We are forced to endure tedious scenes of American school life and "spunky" kids on a mission to save their friend. The tone shifts violently from a drug raid to a "kids on an adventure" flick, complete with 1980s-style music that feels utterly out of place.
The premise is, frankly, absurd. We are asked to believe that a group of teenagers - armed only with Tasers and an overabundance of "main character energy" - can casually rob a trap house. It is far-fetched, unrealistic and frankly, dumb. These kids behave with an exaggerated stupidity that the film tries to frame as "bravery", taking any shred of realism and throwing it out of the window.
The only saving grace among the younger cast is Inde Navarrette as Teresa. She is a surprise package who almost rescues the film from its own mediocrity. She is sharp, capable and arguably should have been the focus of the entire story. Instead, she’s stuck navigating a script that prioritises "weepy" backstories and a heavy-handed message about how "everything is repairable" in dysfunctional families.
If the plot doesn't distract you, the product placement will. It is impossible not to notice that every character is brandishing a Google Pixel. It feels less like a cinematic choice and more like a 100-minute tech commercial.
The internal logic of the film collapses entirely in the finale. The sequence is an exercise in chaotic nonsense, exacerbated by the "professionals" (the parents) covering up the crimes of their children. The height of this absurdity is seeing an 18-year-old outsider wandering freely through a DEA command centre and active crime scenes throughout. It’s imaginative, sure, but only in the sense that the writers clearly imagined a world where laws and protocols don't exist.
Trap House is a confused mess. It tries to stay in PG territory while tackling subjects that require a much grittier 18-rated edge. By trying to be a serious film while leaning on daft plot points, it succeeds at being neither a thriller nor a family drama. It is a sterile, unimaginative outing that treats the audience like they’re as "dumb" as the characters on screen.
Unless you’re a die-hard fan of Bobby Cannavale or you really, really like looking at Google Pixels, this is one house you shouldn't bother visiting!
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