Hit

The scouts

A hitman getting cold feet is basically the oldest redemption arc in the crime playbook—unless Weaver's doing something genuinely weird with it, this feels like the exact consensus move that usually bores me senseless.

The contemplative-crime-drama has a rich lineage from Bresson through the Safdie brothers, and if Weaver's executing that tonal restraint with precision—letting moral doubt breathe through editing and sound rather than exposition—there's real formal elegance here.

What matters is whether Weaver finds the single behavioral tic or compositional choice that makes us believe this particular hitman's doubt; the premise is familiar, but emerging filmmakers often crack these by discovering one unrepeatable detail that sells the whole thing.

Festivals

• Louisiana Film Prize