Henry Johnson Review: The Abyss Stares Back in David Mamet’s Effective Prison Drama

The abyss stares back––that’s the overwhelming feeling of David Mamet’s new film Henry Johnson. It’s based on his play of the same name from 2023, and with both that date and Mamet’s recent public persona, one would probably have some assumptions about this story’s political bent. Watching the film, you’re reminded that we can come to some kind of mutual understanding with those on the other side. 

Comprising essentially four scenes in three locations, Henry Johnson has theatrical origins that are always clear but never distracting. The titular character is portrayed by Evan Jonigkeit––Mamet’s real-life son-in-law, who, wearing similar glasses, suggests something of an onscreen avatar that might be revealing of the theater world tough guy’s actual persona. Across the film, Henry is put through three confrontations: a boss (Chris Bauer), a cellmate (Shia LaBeouf), and a prison guard (Dominic Hoffman). 

The opening scene is an increasingly tense confrontation between Henry and his boss: after being accused of getting “groomed” (not in the sexual way) by a manipulative college friend so he could get away with devious actions, further dominoes fall, such as Henry having embezzled money from his workplace. The stage is set for Henry’s ultimately weak character to further reveal itself. If doing everything we’re supposed to often doesn’t lead to a life of fulfillment, Henry becomes increasingly the representation of the spineless man who can drift through a relatively successful American existence. Landing in jail, Henry comes into contact with another mentor who sees through him. 

The prison cell is a memorable, philosophically rich location from another Mamet play, Edmond; it’s also a fruitful setting for a film to begin the process of chipping away at any decor. The void of grey concrete in which Henry and his cellmate Gene meet––just barbed words from Gene and dead air in-between––define the scenes. This and everything else essentially being a variation on that opening scene, one can probably deduce that it’s overdetermined, but still chilling by its end. The press notes articulate that Mamet had no desire to make a needlessly “cinematic” adaptation that opened up the material, but there are nonetheless qualities in early, careful compositions or close-ups, while the harsh ellipses between scenes makes each one feel like a hopeless encounter drifting in the ocean––a quality of theater bleeding into film in an effective fashion. 

Certainly helping matters are the four strong performances, but the definite standout is LaBeouf. Gene, a wounded demagogue-of-sorts, his sunken eyes and animated movements standing in stark contrast with each other. Admittedly, LaBeouf’s offscreen character adds some additional power, albeit not cheaply. While Jonigkeit is less showy, having to be the cypher the three others bounce off, he doesn’t hit a false note; he’s the right surface for both the other characters and the audience to project their own philosophical ideas onto. 

For being so entrenched in his words and ideas, it’s healthy to think of Mamet as the key artist of this film. Maybe nobody will be surprised by his pessimism at this moment, or even interpret it as an argument for self-interest and a lack of humanity towards others. The moral dead-end is always apparent; you feel the weight regardless.

Henry Johnson opens in theaters and is available for rental beginning Friday, May 9.

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