The tense crime drama Emily the Criminal gives Aubrey Plaza the perfect platform

polygon.com:

In the America of 2022, desperation is the norm. Wealth inequality is worse than it’s ever been, and wages aren’t keeping up with inflation, so in essence, if you don’t come from money, you’re fucked. The average millennial carries $28,317 in debt, and most of them have been hiking uphill on a mountain of sand for their entire professional lives. Corporations don’t pay taxes, and neither do the very rich. So what’s the big deal if the rest of us bend the rules a little?

This tempting question is at the heart of the thriller Emily the Criminal, the debut feature from writer-director John Patton Ford. Set in the gritty, street-level Los Angeles that celebrities try not to see out of their limousine windows, the film gets much of its authenticity from its nuanced depiction of the web of inequality, institutional obstacles, and just plain raw deals that entrap the protagonist. The rest comes from Aubrey Plaza’s lead performance, which goes from drawn and defeated to fierce and unfuckwithable as her character descends into the criminal underworld.

It’s not that she’s a role model. Emily (Plaza) is better off than some: She has a car and a relatively stable housing situation, infuriating deadbeat roommates aside. In other ways, she’s at a disadvantage, and has very little hope of her exhausting, frustrating life ever getting any better. She’s drowning in $70,000 of student debt, and the payments she diligently makes barely cover her monthly interest. To make those payments, she works long shifts schlepping catered lunches for a delivery app, hauling giant insulated bags of salad and pasta to feed white-collar workers who look at her with contempt and disgust — when they look at her at all.

She’d get a better job, like her