The difference between an excellent thriller like Relay and substandard similar films lies in how well the cast sells their parts. Each role hinges on the character’s purpose and modus operandi, and if anyone deviates from either, the film crumbles under its own weight. What sets Relay apart is that director David Mackenzie has found a way to add weight to each of writer Justin Piasecki’s characters without feeling like everything’s being shoveled at us. Mackenzie keeps this film crackling with low-key yet uncontainable energy in order to grab us and run, diving into a world that lives in the twilight between our everyday lives and the world beneath, where people are viewed as obstacles, not humans.
It’s here where “Tom” (Riz Ahmed) lurks. The quotation marks around his name indicate exactly what you’d suspect: He doesn’t give his real name for fear of being traced. He’s a guy who brokers deals for corporate whistleblowers who want nothing more than to be rid of 1) the information they have and 2) the harassment and threats directed at them by the company’s “fixers.” Armed with deep knowledge of the city and its transit routes, multiple burner phones, numerous disguises, and—most importantly—a Telecommunications Device for the Deaf (TDD), you get the feeling Tom is efficient, impersonal, and completely laser-focused. Watching him go through the routines of his methodical work is a dazzlingly anxiety-laced treat; just when you think he’s done something to slip up and you swear he’s cooked, think again, ‘cause he’s got a lot of tricks up his sleeve.
Comparing Riz Ahmed’s Tom to how he was originally written yields another feather in this film’s cap, as Ahmed plays him almost completely silent for the bulk of the first third of the movie. He doesn’t need to talk to anyone, nor should he; the more contact he has with people, the greater the chances are of him leaving a trail for the villains to find. All of his communications are conducted through his TDD with the Tri-State Relay Service, which is used by deaf or mute individuals to communicate with those capable of hearing and speaking. The genius of this? These calls aren’t recorded or logged, nor can these relay operators disclose any call’s content, as the Americans with Disabilities Act prevents any of these actions, thus providing another layer of protection: No one can hear Tom’s voice over the phone.
Ahmed is simply perfect for this role, being capable of expressing so much without saying a word. Tom is a lonely sort, and Ahmed knows how to express this loneliness on his face and through his physical mannerisms. A backstory fills in what his appearance and actions do not, but it’s something we have to earn, starting at step one with Sarah (Lily James), a researcher at a tobacco company who has discovered unlawful activity. She wants to report it, but the company’s fixers have waged a campaign of terror against her, so she figures she’d be better off returning her evidence—which was stolen, in legal terms—to the company.
It’s hard not to feel for Sarah, as we see an ominous dark gray van outside the temporary apartment she’s had to move to because of these goons, who now sit outside, waiting. She’s scared, alone, and hunted; when Tom accepts her as a client, there’s a relief that comes off her in waves, even though she’s still terrified of potential harm or disappearance. When Tom starts putting her through procedures that seem nebulous and taxing, she becomes our proxy, inviting us along to experience these events with her. Our empathy lies with her—a single woman being leaned on until she breaks, hounded by ruthless, dispassionate operatives led by Steve Dawson (Sam Worthington).
(To a gentleman I know named Steve Dawson, who might be reading this: As soon as he said his name, I cheered. Just for the name. This man has nothing in common with you. Except for being really, really good-looking. Love you, Steve.)
There’s very little these people won’t do—including stepping right over the boundaries of the law—to get the evidence Sarah’s got. It’s representative of the worst of stalkers and harassers, toeing the line and invading someone’s space because they can, but only so far. But invade, they will; they want Sarah afraid and pushed to the brink, because that’s when people make mistakes. Tom adheres to his stringent rules, especially not claiming to be his client’s bodyguard; he’s there to push back, his anonymity maintained by the relay service. However, when his loneliness is challenged by this beautiful, helpless woman, he’s not beyond committing errors himself.
Piasecki’s script allows for being exceptionally taut and showing us human folly, and Relay is a sterling combination of the two. Mackenzie has a brilliant blueprint he uses to draw us in visually and involve us in Tom’s missions. The prologue, featuring a nervous man and a well-dressed executive-type meeting in a neighborhood diner, immediately engages us with its cloak-and-dagger atmosphere, setting the stage for the ensuing battle of wits. Long, well-composed takes by cinematographer Giles Nuttgens glide us in and out of our characters’ spheres of influence, noting spatial relations and scene twists with clarity and excitement. While Piasecki’s script places our characters within unknowing spitting distance, it’s Mackenzie and Nuttgens who—along with deft editing by Matt Mayer—grab us by perfectly blocking the actors’ movements, seemingly effortless in their ability to slip our characters just where we need them to be. An airport sequence is a highlight of how well-constructed this game is, both in image, action, and word, as pursuers and pursued weave a captivating, suspenseful dance through Mayer’s lens.
But the wondrous performances by Riz Ahmed and Lily James are what nail everything together. Even though separated physically and aurally for most of Relay, there’s some kind of magic happening in how they stack up as distanced partners throughout. A different casting choice, and this movie doesn’t work; James and Ahmed make us believe their predicaments with authority. Ahmed restrains Tom as if he’s actively pushing down his emotions while carrying out his tasks; he’s not hiding these emotions, but rather smashing them with the pressure of the job at hand (and possible baggage). Counter to him, James doesn’t put one foot wrong in her portrayal of a woman at the end of her rope, giving her the strength to do what needs to be done while still being petrified to even so much as look out the window.
Relay is quite a banger of a thriller, firing on every possible cylinder to wrap its enthralling tale around us and tighten it until we’re gasping for breath. I was on the edge of my seat from the title card; after quickly setting up this story of what happens to whistleblowers and the possibility of a lifeline for them after it goes south, the film takes off and never lets up. A lot of the film’s suspense rides on its theme of apathy and breaking out of it; usually, an improper balance of actors and action tilts films like these one way or the other, but not Relay. Its steady execution by those behind and in front of the lens hooks us from the opening shot to its sunset-shining final frame. We need more of this kind of suspense film that doesn’t turn its characters into caricatures to oversell its drama; by respecting their humanity, David Mackenzie assures we can believe them. And believe them, we do.
