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Warning: Full spoilers for the film follow.

I’ve been a fan of Austin Butler’s ever since I saw him in The Shannara Chronicles. While the series left much to be desired as an adaptation of one of my very favorite epic fantasy series, Butler really did shine as Wil Ohmsford. Little did I know that he would go on to have a remarkable subsequent career, excelling at playing a particular type of tortured and troubled young man, all while looking like a fallen angel. (Yes, I might be a little in love with him after watching his film).

The most recent iteration of this figure is Hank Thompson, a young man who once had a promising career in baseball but, due to a drunk driving accident–one that took the life of his friend–he has spent the subsequent years drinking away his troubles and carrying on a quasi-relationship with Yvonne (Zoë Kravitz). His entire life is turned upside down, however, when his next-door neighbor Russ (Matt Smith) leaves for London, which sets in motion a train of events that sees Hank dealing with a corrupt cop, Elise Roman (Regina King), her goons, and two Hasidic brothers who are more than happy to kill anyone who gets in their way (Liv Schreiber and Vincent D’Onofrio). While Hank eventually gets a happy ending of sorts, he has to sacrifice much along the way.

It’s no exaggeration to say that Darren Aronovsky’s Caught Stealing is one of my favorite movies of this year. It’s the type of crime thriller that knows what its purpose is and it doesn’t try to be anything else. It is one of a long history of films about an everyman who finds himself caught up in forces that he knows nothing about and has to use all of his considerable skills to survive. There are more than a few bodies left by the wayside, but this isn’t a cynical film. It is, instead, a blunt look at the dreadful lengths to which people will go for money.

Indeed, there’s a beautiful brutality to the film, one that’s anchored by Butler’s performance. He’s one of those actors who manages to combine in his person the beauty and the hardness of masculinity. Part of it is, I think, the cherubic beauty of his face, which looks like it sprang out of a Renaissance painting, and this sits somewhat at odds with the lean muscularity of his frame. Aronovsky gives us many opportunities to appreciate his masculine beauty, and there are moments when his raw sexuality seems to just envelope the screen and us along with it.

At the same time, Butler also makes clear that Hank is a man haunted by his past and, at first, he struggles to make sense of the violent world of which he is now a part, let alone figure out a way to survive. As the violence escalates, he finds that he, too, has to give away a little slice of his humanity in order to make it out alive. This isn’t to say that there isn’t some humor here, too, because there is. I wouldn’t go so far as to call this a crime comedy, but there were some moments when I did laugh out loud (though it’s fair to point out that most of these moments involved Bud the cat, who proves to be Hank’s best sidekick).

As much as Caught Stealing is about Hank’s efforts to stay alive–and, if possible, to keep those he loves from getting caught in the crossfire–it’s also about making peace with his traumatic past. At numerous points in the film he wakes up from troubled dreams in which he is forced to relive the terrible moment when his drunk driving ended up killing his best friend and shattering his knee, thus derailing his promising baseball career. It’s only when he takes accountability for what he did that he can move forward, that he can stop running and seize control of his own destiny. There’s something apposite and even poetic about the fact that, in the film’s third act, he slams the car he’s driving into a pillar, killing the Hasidic brothers Lipa and Shmully in the process. Given that these two men were the ones responsible for the death of his beloved Yvonne, this moment is even more satisfying.

Butler might be the heart and soul of this film, but he’s matched by a formidable supporting cast. Of these, the best is, I think, Regina King, who never fails to impress. From the moment that Roman appears in Hank’s apartment, one gets the sense that there’s more to her than meets the eye. She seems to take an inordinate amount of pleasure in playing mind games with Hank, trying to jar something loose, as she puts it. As soon becomes clear, however, she’s brutal and violent and ruthless, and she will do anything to get her hands on the money that Russ has stolen. And, because King is just such a charismatic screen presence–and because she so effortless exudes authority–you almost find yourself wanting Hank to just do what she says so he can make it out alive (even if, as is also clear, she’ll almost certainly kill him once she gets what she wants).

And, lest you be concerned about Bud the cat, let me rush to tell you that he makes it all the way to the end! I must admit that I was a bit nervous, and if this was a movie in which the cat dies I most certainly would have hated it. Instead, the fact that Hank is so willing to look out for a feline companion that Russ foisted on him says a great deal about his innate goodness, and one can’t help but cheer for him as he tries to wrest some control of his life from those who consistently try to take away what little agency he has.

That, I think, is what makes Caught Stealing such a perfect film for our present moment. We’re all at the mercy of bad faith actors, and many of us feel as if we’re playing a game that is rigged against us, with no real knowledge of the rules or who we can trust. This film reminds us that it’s up to us to seize our destiny, though hopefully with fewer bodies left behind.

Rome Ramirez wasn’t built in a day.

He was once a guitar-strumming, teenage Sublime fan in a Mexican American household in Fremont, Calif. At 18, he moved to Los Angeles to follow his dream of making music. He swept floors, lived in his van and eventually did the impossible: He became the singer of his favorite band.

In 2009, 13 years after the death of Sublime’s founding singer-songwriter Bradley Nowell, Rome befriended Sublime’s remaining members, Bud Gaugh and Eric Wilson, and became the frontman of Sublime with Rome — playing to an established fan base in amphitheaters around the world. Behind the scenes, Rome developed a robust songwriting career of his own, cutting his teeth in the studio-session culture in L.A. and racking up credits on Enrique Iglesias and Selena Gomez songs.

Yet eventually, the band started to feel more like a job than a calling. After several lineup changes, Sublime with Rome embarked on its farewell tour in 2024. “For the majority of being in Sublime, our recording schedule was so busy,” he says. “I knew that in order to do a solo career, it takes everything from you if you want to do it right, so that was not on the mind.”

Despite being a lifelong California boy, Rome moved his family to Nashville during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. There are perks to living in America’s songwriting capital — like a slower pace of life and the ability to do “more errands per day than in L.A.,” he says with a laugh. But now, he says that he and his children are some of the only Latinos in their neighborhood.

“There [are] a lot of people who leave California,” says Rome. “They trash-talk California, but it’s just such a huge part of my identity and culture — growing up as a Mexican American in California, that Chicano culture. I will always love Los Angeles.”

After 15 years in Sublime with Rome, the 37-year-old has forged a new path as a solo artist. His sound is a West Coast cocktail of beachy reggae and hip hop-inspired grooves, specially made for summertime — like his new single “Slow & Easy,” featuring the Dirty Heads, his friends from back when he slept in his van.

It’s the first offering from his debut EP, “Gemini” — “It’s about the duality of my music, I can’t be put into a box,” he says — which is set for a Sept. 19 release. He’s also announced a slate of tour dates in the U.S., starting Sept. 17 in Destin, Fla.

This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.

Your solo career was kick-started by stepping down as the lead singer of Sublime with Rome. Was having a solo career something you had in your head for a while?
Through the course of touring with Sublime, I was really heavily involved in songwriting. I was doing all kinds of records for people I really looked up to — like Selena Gomez and Jason Derulo and Enrique Iglesias. Huge names. As a kid who grew up writing songs in his mom’s basement, this was just like a dream come true.

It wasn’t until the pandemic happened where for the first time Sublime with Rome wasn’t touring, we were at home and I started live-streaming. People were showing up in these rooms — like 500 to a thousand people. I was one of the first people in my music community who was already outfitted with cameras, ready to go in the studio. I would start with a Sublime album and go through every song on the stream. And then the next album, then the Sublime with Rome album, then I would do covers. After about like six months, I ran out of songs and people were just asking like, “Dude, do you have any music? Like, are you working on anything?” And honestly, I hadn’t worked on music for myself in so long.

I think part of that was not wanting to dig deep into traumas, [like] growing up in a household with drugs. But during the pandemic, I had time to start writing music again for fun — playing with sounds that I loved and grew up on, and starting to pull the scabs off of [wounds] that I tucked [away] in the past. After a while I had a handful of songs, and I just knew I [couldn’t] put them in the Sublime with Rome set. This thing I love to do started to feel like a job, and that is a no-go. So I asked myself, “Am I going to do Sublime with Rome for money, or am I going to really follow something that I believe in?”

We started having conversations about what the future of the band was looking like prior to our summer tour in 2023. I’m really glad that everything happened the way it did. We had a roll out for everything. I needed to trust my gut and follow through with my belief in this music and what I’m building.

“Lay Me Down” with Dirty Heads is one of your biggest songs, with nearly 120 million Spotify plays, but it came out in 2010 — much earlier than your current venture in your solo career. What’s the story behind this song?
I’m from the Bay Area, but I moved down to Los Angeles when I was 18 to go make something of myself. I was hanging around this recording studio that the Dirty Heads were just getting started at.

I was just interning, sweeping floors, [eating] cheeseburgers, that kind of thing. Everyone knew that I could write a song, and eventually, after hanging out there for so long, me and the Dirty Heads worked up a friendship. They said, “Let’s get together and write a song one day.”

So we barbecued some hot dogs and just hung out in one of the guys’ backyard with a couple of guitars on a picnic bench … and we wrote “Lay Me Down.” The song sat around for a year, but we really liked it.

They were going on tour in the van and I wasn’t doing anything — I was homeless at the time, Sublime wasn’t even a thought. They offered me to go on the road with them, so I did and played that one song with them. From there, our manager took the demo to KROQ. The song started getting played on the radio and the shows got fuller. It was such an amazing experience. It was just just by the grace of God, it like all worked out and our lives changed from that point. We cashed our first checks and bought our first cars together from that.

You collaborated with the Dirty Heads again on your recent single “Slow and Easy.” It’s your first single since you’ve gone solo. What was that process like?
It’s come full circle with my best friends again. I knew this song was special. I went into the studio with the aim of — “I want to make a summer song that feels like a Van Morrison record, but [an] Uncle Kracker [vibe]. Real simple.”

I went in with my boy, Nick Bailey, who I write a lot of music with, and we nailed that song in two hours. After I got the demo I was like, “Man, it’s so close. What if I put the Dirty Heads on it? [With] a little rap and a little melody, it would just be so different.”

They loved it. They sent me their vocals the next week and I was like, “OK, I feel like this is a good song.” Eventually some awesome promoters at radio stations heard it and they wanted to take a chance on the record.

The summer vibes are strong on “Lay Me Down” and “Slow and Easy.” What artists introduced you to this sound that’s present in everything you do?
I grew up on Motown and Bob Marley. That’s what I circled back to after I left Sublime.

As I was working on music during the pandemic, I was like, “What do I want to hear? What’s the shit that I like?” And it’s like Stevie Wonder, it’s the Supremes, it’s the Four Tops, it’s Fiona Apple, it’s Leon Bridges, it’s Van Morrison. I really like feel-good music that sonically reminds me of an older time.

I have kids now, so I’m very conscious about the message I put into the world. I’ll try to write a song that the world could benefit from hearing, but not make it a preachy song.

How would you describe the sound of Rome?
The underlying factor is soul music. When you hear soul music, you think of Teddy Pendergrass and things like that. I love soul music. [Take] Bradley’s voice in Sublime, you cannot tell me that that man wasn’t a soul singer.

That’s the music that I really gravitate to, music that just feels really honest. Reggae music [lives] in me. Jack Johnson is another huge influence. My sound is reggae and soul and pop music, for lack of better words, because I write simple-ass songs.

How do you feel like your Mexican heritage makes its way into your music? Or in how you move and how you present yourself?
Growing up Mexican shaped my whole framework for how I live my life. I don’t speak Spanish, but I grew up in two households that were fully fluent in Spanish. All my friends growing up were Mexican. [I remember] seeing Carlos Santana playing with Rob Thomas on [television] and my dad was like, “He’s mexicano right there.” Man, that was pretty sick.

Growing up in a really thick Mexican culture [meant] both my parents worked their ass off, but at the same time, family always came first. These are the kind of morals that are really instilled in Mexican culture, that I’m so proud that I have. As a family man now, those things are so prominent in my life. We take a lot of pride in what we do, we work our asses off … then when it’s time to play, we play.

What makes a good summer song?
Something that you don’t have to try too hard to listen to. There are some songs where you’re like, “All right, I need to get in the car and drive and listen to this thing, ride it out the gate.” When I envision a summer song, it’s very simple and easy to play.

People online are debating what the song of the summer is in 2025. What has been your song of the summer?
In terms of listening and all the damn content I’ve been making, it’s “Slow and Easy!” But aside from one of my own songs, probably “Golden” from “KPop Demon Hunters” because that’s what my kids are spinning. The music is shockingly good. It’s like Max Martin s—.

You’re on quite a big U.S. tour. How is it going?
It’s so sick. We just rolled out a couple dates in Florida just to test the waters and those shows are selling really good, so promoters have been adding more and more.

I’ve been to so many of these places [with Sublime], of course, but the energy’s different. I’m playing smaller spots, [connecting] with people before and after the shows. You can’t really do that in amphitheaters. I’m experiencing everything in reverse. I was homeless when I met Sublime and then I was on the tour bus. Now, it’s like we’re climbing up the ranks again.

I have such a long lineage of songs I’ve been working on and the fan base — shout out to the Romies — who’ve followed me over the years. Putting together the set list has been a celebration of the different eras of my life. I’m just having a lot of fun doing this.

There is an elegiac tone and a dash of wit in this lovely, small-scale film held together by Willem Dafoe‘s magnetic presence and natural but compelling performance. He plays Lucius, the American manager of a grand hotel in Vienna, a job he has taken pride in for two decades and will lose soon when a new owner takes over. “This is the house where I live. And now I find myself forced to abandon it,” he says in voiceover. His sadness is lightened a bit by the oddity of the details he values in that same voiceover. “Hotel Intercontinental Vienna. The first luxury brand hotel in the world and the first one to have telephones in every bathroom.”

As we follow him through several days, he shows himself to be annoyed at the change, unwilling to admit that the hotel’s glory days are over, and finally reconciled to something new, whatever that turns out to be. The Souffleur would be a very different work without Dafoe. He makes the character and the entire film down-to-earth and accessible, two things Gastón Solnicki is not known for.

The Argentinian-born director is known and admired for his artistically daring but often cryptic films, as varied as Papirosen (2011), built from his own family’s trove of home movies, and Kekszakallu (2016), a quasi-documentary about adolescent girls coming of age, which won that year’s FIPRESCI prize for best film in the Horizons section of the Venice Film Festival.  

Even with Dafoe, Solnicki’s approach hasn’t changed all that much. This latest Venice premiere is definitely a work of fragments, isolated scenes that amount to a fly-on-the-wall view of Lucius but are not meant to create a traditional narrative, or for the pieces to fit together as neatly as a jigsaw puzzle.

Weaving in and out of Lucius’ story are black-and-white images of the hotel in the past, from construction to children ice skating outside, to the glamour of a crowded dining room. Much of that footage is archival (the Intercontinental is a real hotel in Vienna, and not dead), some of it enhanced by Solnicki. Those scenes serve to blend the past and present in a way that suits the film’s impressionistic style.

Every now and then some of the hotel’s staff members face the camera and announce their name and room number, for no apparent reason except to let us know they are there and probably about to be displaced. One of those workers is Lilly (Lilly Lindner), Lucius’ daughter, who grew up in the hotel but is far less attached to it than her father and ready to move on. In one scene between her and Lucius, he expresses his concern, looking at her arm and asking if she has been harming herself again. But where a traditional film would lean into the family dynamics, The Souffleur lets those moments sit with us and moves on. At one point we see giraffes. Who knows why?

Although Lucius spends a lot of time walking the halls and checking the hotel’s dining room, he also meets the new owner, Facundo Ordoñez, a rich Argentinian played by Solnicki. Improbably, they have a cordial relationship. And when Ordoñez plays tennis, Solnicki gives him a wiry nervous energy that adds a touch of humor.

There is nothing funny about the film’s jokey title, which is just a strained metaphor. A soufflé rises slowly in the oven at the start, and Lucius and another staff member debate why the chef’s soufflés have been bad lately. The falling soufflé as a symbol of the crumbling hotel is the kind of heavy-handed touch Solnicki rarely indulges.

More often the images are evocative and visually stunning, shot by Rui Poças, the cinematographer who often works with Miguel Gomes, including on the recent, visually arresting Grand Tour. Outdoor scenes especially are artfully composed, such as a distant view of a bridge with the river flowing under it in the foreground, or the glistening look of a puddle on the street at night. Solnicki often likes to keep the camera still, as people walk in and out of the frame.

The Souffleur is a brief hour and 18 minutes long, and just as much a tone poem as it is a character study. Dafoe brings ballast and humanity to it, uniting its fragments as Lucius decides what to do with his future. It’s worth remembering that Dafoe started his career in theater as a member of the avant-garde Wooster Group and understands stories that defy conventional narratives. He is just the person to make this beautifully made little film come to life.