Aubrey Plaza Makes Her Own Way with ‘Emily the Criminal’

In the past five years Aubrey Plaza has been curating one of the more fascinating careers in the world of cinema. I don’t think that it’s any coincidence that, since escaping unscathed from 2016’s Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates, the four most interesting films she’s made have been produced by Plaza herself: the hilariously sacrilegious The Little Hours, the clever stalker comedy Ingrid Goes West, the remarkable, Cassavetes-like “movie within a movie” Black Bear, and now her latest production, Emily the Criminal.  

I’ve always felt that Plaza was such a unique and particular talent that casting directors would likely have a hard time seeing beyond her brilliantly deadpan persona that viewers took to so strongly in Parks and Recreation. In a way Plaza’s dilemma is similar to that of Parker Posey. Although Plaza’s onscreen vibe is decidedly the opposite of the wonderfully extroverted Posey, that very strong sense of who they are and what they are good at that filmmakers may hold has offered both a somewhat narrow runway. Both of them can be seen as “peculiar,” and peculiar will get you typecast in the industry faster than you can say “Juliette Lewis” (another actor who has struggled with nobody knowing what to do with her). Too often, Aubrey Plaza and Parker Posey have been simply who you call when you want an Aubrey Plaza or Parker Posey character in your film.

While no one should shed tears for Parker Posey (she’s had a terrific career), I have to wonder how many times she’s been passed over for leads because her persona reads as both too specific and too eccentric to filmmakers. This issue doesn’t seem to apply to men in the same way (consider the careers of kooks like Nicolas Cage and Johnny Depp).

Typecasting seems to be a fate that Plaza is not willing to accept. Through her own production company, Evil Hag, she has chosen roles (certainly in Black Bear and Emily) that I’m betting a lot of people would never have pictured her in. Black Bear wasn’t widely seen, but anyone who has seen it will practically evangelize over Plaza’s third-act turn that brings to mind Gena Rowland’s extraordinary performance in Opening Night.

Having said that, Emily the Criminal stretches Plaza even further. While in Black Bear, Plaza shared the weight of the movie with Christopher Abbott and Sarah Gadon, in Emily the Criminal, Plaza carries the whole picture on her own. She is in practically every frame of this film about a woman drowning in college loans and working at a dead end job, who turns to a life of crime to get out from under her $60,000 of debt. 

It’s not hard to imagine a version of this film that would present Emily as a person who is conventionally sympathetic—saintly even—suffering at the hand of the man. And while Plaza is so eminently watchable that sympathy comes easy, and Emily is surely suffering at the hands of the man, what Emily the Criminal does with its main character is much more complex than a brief synopsis of the story might lead you to believe. 

Morally flexible in a way that predisposes her to bad choices, Emily is not a simple victim. When we meet her she is a contract employee for a food delivery service who can’t get a better job due to having an aggravated assault felony on her record. As her desperation grows, a tip from a co-worker leads her to Youcef (an excellent Theo Rossi), who, along with his cousin, runs a credit card fraud scam. Emily is given the opportunity to make a quick $200 for buying a flatscreen TV with a stolen credit card. 

From there, Emily becomes involved in more complicated and risky schemes for Youcef, as the opportunity to save herself financially grows. Best laid plans eventually go sideways, and Emily finds out just how far she’ll go for money. 

Plaza’s signature dry wit and her large suspicious eyes work to great effect in the role, but there is also a weathered and beleaguered quality to Plaza’s performance that is positively revelatory. In part due to Plaza retaining a very youthful appearance she has struggled to be cast as more than an ingenue in a lot of her work, but if Black Bear hinted at the possibility of what a more mature Plaza can do, Emily the Criminal makes it plain—she can do anything.

Plaza so deeply connects with Emily and her plight that she disappears into the role. Gone is this idea of the “Aubrey Plaza character,” and all that’s left is the character of Emily. It’s Plaza’s most complete and satisfying performance yet. 

In the hands of Plaza, Emily is no easy like, but she is understandable. She has not one, but two scenes where she interviews for an office job and walks away cursing her would-be employer as soon as she feels disrespected by the demeaning process of having to explain her life and argue for her value. Emily maybe one missed paycheck from being out in the street, but she’s not going to let anyone walk over her. 

The film, written and directed with real muscle by John Patton Ford (his over the shoulder shots have an indie-Michael Mann feel), taps into the greater workplace insecurities of our times: the costly burden of college, the instability of the gig economy, and the near impossibility of getting ahead in the United States with a criminal record. It’s also a cracking good thriller, too. 

These larger themes are siphoned through a perfectly imperfect host, who, after exhausting all traditional means of getting ahead, makes a way of her own. With this character and her predicament, the actor who plays Emily achieves a sort of metaphysical synergy. Because making a way of her own is something that Aubrey Plaza can certainly relate to. 

With Emily the Criminal, a new path seems to be open to Plaza—one where she will be viewed with fresh eyes. And if Hollywood still won’t come knocking, well, Plaza will open her own damn doors.