‘Last Take’ Review: Looking for Halyna Hutchins’ Legacy in an On-Set Tragedy

You can feel the grief running through Rachel Mason’s documentary, “Last Take: Rust and the Story of Halyna.” There’s not only the grief felt by “Rust” cinematographer Halyna Hutchins’ friends, family and co-workers, but that her death was then cast into a media firestorm, set to be adjudicated by people indifferent to her life and work. Grief also causes us to grasp, looking for answers in the face of chaos, trying to make sense of a senseless tragedy — and “Last Take” wanders in a similar fashion.

There are times when it feels like it seizes on a larger issue about indie productions taking shortcuts on safety, and how in the case of “Rust” it resulted in a worker’s death. But there are other times when the film seems angrier at people online than the people who made “Rust” an unsafe place to work. In between these narratives, where can one even find Hutchins and tell a story about a life and career cut short? “Last Take” tries to find a bit of solace in Hutchins’ artistry but seems reluctant to cast blame regarding her death even when the culprits are fairly clear.

On Oct. 21, 2021, on the 12th day of filming the western “Rust,” a gun discharged a live round of ammunition, killing cinematographer Halyna Hutchins and wounding director and writer Joel Souza. Alec Baldwin was holding the prop gun at the time, and given Baldwin’s fame, the case instantly erupted into a major object of fascination among the public. Starting with Hutchins’ perspective, “Last Take” shows us the days leading up to her death and then attempts to piece together what happened — and why — in the aftermath of the shooting. Through accounts with not only those on set, but also police footage, interrogations, interviews with an OSHA investigator and more, Mason attempts to cut
through all the online discourse by establishing a firm record of events without laying the blame at the feet of any single individual.

This leads to the film’s biggest problem where it feels like Mason’s greatest anger is reserved not for any individual responsible, but for people online or various news outlets that used the shooting for entertainment. As even one talking head notes, “The Internet is going to Internet,” but Mason fills the movie with hot takes of uninformed people, which only serves to clarify what most viewers already know: social media is a cesspool. And while you’re certainly free to tell that story, plenty of other documentaries already have and it’s not the core of this particular story. As even Mason appears to acknowledge in the film’s first half, what we have here is a labor violation story.

“Rust” was not only an indie production, but a cheap production. It was not meant to open on 3,000 screens. It was likely meant to sell quickly to a streamer or perhaps end up in DVD kiosks backs when Redbox still existed. That’s not to denigrate anyone’s work on the movie, but as Mason makes abundantly clear, the production cut corners on safety and the reason young armorer Hannah Gutierrez-Reed was even hired was because no one else would do the job for the low cost the production was willing to pay. There is a paper trail establishing that Gutierrez-Reed never felt like she had the time to adequately do her job (she was also hired to be an assistant prop master, thus splitting her focus), and the day before Hutchins’ death, most of the camera crew walked off due to, among other reasons, safety concerns. The reason Hutchins was personally framing the shot next to Baldwin on the day of her death rather than sitting in video village (a little tent with monitors typically 20-30 yards away from what’s being filmed) was because she no longer had the personnel available to hold the cameras.

We’re left with the implication that the producers of “Rust” sought to keep costs so low that it ended up costing Hutchins her life. Perhaps that’s being too harsh, and certainly Mason never makes such a direct assertion. But for viewers, there does appear to be enough for us to draw a line from what the crew was saying about conditions on set to why an inexperienced armorer was entrusted with a job that involved plenty of gunfire and little safety oversight. As the OSHA investigator assigned to the case notes, Gutierrez-Reed was a symptom of the problem, not the problem.

But because the case kept going with involuntary manslaughter charges filed against actor/producer Baldwin and Gutierrez-Reed, the documentary feels compelled to follow suit. As these trials unfold, we’re left wondering if we’re seeing a miscarriage of justice when Gutierrez-Reed is sentenced for involuntary manslaughter or if justice is being served when Baldwin is able to get his case dismissed with prejudice. Mason does interview prosecutor Kari Morrissey, who notes disdainfully that Baldwin’s defense was able to convince the judge of their case, which feels a lot like saying, “We would have won the game if the other team hadn’t scored more points.” More importantly, as viewers, we don’t even know what we’re supposed to understand regarding the legal burdens placed on these cases and what truths they uncovered.

Mason does attempt to bring the story back around to Hutchins and why those involved felt it was important to finish the movie. If anything, “Last Take” feels like a plea for understanding to those outside the industry to see a finished “Rust” not as a cynical money grab, but a way to ensure that Hutchins’ art will see the light of day rather than languishing in an evidence locker somewhere in New Mexico. Trying to do right by Hutchins is what stops “Last Take” from playing like just another salacious true crime doc. Its focus may be scattershot, and it may not change a single mind when it comes to placing blame, but like with grief, working through the pain is never clean and tidy.

“Last Take: Rust and the Story of Halyna” premieres March 11 on Hulu.

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