It’s her physicality, which is forceful in a way that belies the thinness of her frame, and the overwhelming burst of charisma she brings to the screen.
Some of the most affecting compositions in Those Who Wish Me Dead study the planes of this famous face, charting the ways it can communicate yearning, sorrow, and a devil-may-care destructiveness with clear-eyed sincerity.
The film begins somewhat jaggedly, bouncing between Montana mountain ranges and the Florida coastline, as it sets the stage for the violence that follows.
Sheridan and his cinematographer Ben Richardson treat the natural surroundings with a sense of awe that demonstrates the forces working against the characters: Flames lick the sky, eating through everything in their path; there are rolling verdant hills; water flows through crystalline blue creeks, oblivious to the horror just at their edges.
There are some intriguing histories at play here, and while I would love to learn more about their backstories, the film’s dedication to the present moment in these people’s lives keeps the story in high gear.
The sequence is a taut masterwork — the direction, blocking, sound design, stuntmen, and actors work in tandem to create a series of tense moments that highlights the strengths of the film, including how much fun everyone seems to be having pulling it off.
Most intriguingly, it acts as an argument that the bigger-than-life stars like Jolie can be a powerful tool in a film’s arsenal if you know what to do with them.