Thanks to the economics of fentanyl manufacture, numerous mini-cartels have driven most of the large traditional cartels out of business. Only two of the two traditional giants remain in business, largely due to their superior ruthlessness. One of those notorious behemoths intends to move into the Oklahoma market, but that territory has always been controlled an indigenous criminal organization IBH.
Holt Lightfeather remains their leader, even though he is serving a life sentence for murder. It is there that he recruits George “Smiley” Greene to be his new fix-it man. Greene did not apply for the position, nor can he decline the appointment, At least he gets an early release to launch countermeasures against the cartels encroaching from Mexico and California.
Oklahoma drug cop Layne West is also focused on the Mexican cartel, especially Ramon Garza, whom he tied to a deadly human trafficking operation that negligently killed dozens of illegal migrants. Despite such horrors, West’s own drug-addicted son Jack helps to underwrite the cartels’ violence with his compulsive usage. Frankly, West and his wife Tess know they are losing him, but they are unable to breakthrough his Gen-Z petulance. Even West’s partner, Ty Grady, whom Jack regards as a beloved uncle-figure, cannot reach him.
Fentanyl is having a cinematic moment with two films addressing it illicit trade hitting theaters this week (the other being Muzzle: City of Wolves). Even though Swab ignores the CCP regime’s complicity in the international fentanyl supply chain, King Ivory (referring to the drug’s street name) rings with authenticity. It is not set in Oklahoma by accident. The state aptly represents the kind of working-class “red state” communities that have been devastated by opiates. It also happens to be the site of some uniquely Balkanesque turf battles, which Swab and company explore in fascinating detail.
Even though Swab never aspires for a docu-drama tone, King Ivory often feels uncomfortably real. It is the sort of film that grabs you by the lapels and slaps you across he chops. Admittedly, that does not sound like a lot of fun, but it certainly is eye-opening.
King Ivory also boasts at least a half dozen shockingly good performances. Notably, the late great Graham Greene is frighteningly intense as the ruthless Lightfeather. Instead of the middling Icefall, King Ivory should be considered his final film, because it serves as a brilliant capstone to a culturally significant career.
Likewise, Ben Foster equals his most idiosyncratic career highlights with his portrayal of emphysemic Greene, who somehow credibly strangles prison inmates, while wheezing through his tracheal hole. Foster’s quiet brooding is perfectly complimented by Ritchie Coster’s loudmouth bluster as Greene’s uncle and mentor in the Irish mob, Mickey Greene.
Frankly, in comparison, the actors playing Jack West and his friends seem soulless, listless, and lifeless. Yet, arguably, they perfectly capture the essence of their generation.
Regardless, King Ivory rings with authenticity. In addition to his exhaustive research, Swab candidly drew from his own addiction experiences to examine the fentanyl crisis from multiple social perspectives. His scope and ambition are not unlike Traffic or Gommorah. Very highly recommended, King Ivory opens tomorrow (11/14) in New York, at the AMC Empire.