John Patton Ford’s How to Make a Killing is mostly entertaining, modestly funny, and buoyed almost entirely by the sheer force of Glen Powell’s well-rounded talents. Yep, this is absolutely one of those movies that works so – much – better because of the actor at the center of it. Powell doesn’t just elevate otherwise “meh” material - he practically carries it up a hill on his back. He injects emotion when the film needs grounding, lands the humor when things threaten to sag, and maintains an undercurrent of intrigue even when the script can’t quite decide what it wants to be. With a less capable performer in the role, this thing could have veered off the rails fast. That’s largely because the film itself is a bit confused about its identity. Is it a comedy? A drama? A suspense thriller? Your guess is as good as mine, and the movie never fully commits to any lane. Tonal shifts are jarring as we go from rom-com meet-cute moments to sudden bursts of murder and moral panic. And by the time the final act hits, we’re suddenly in a full-blown thriller showdown. It’s a lot to navigate. Again, credit goes to Powell, who smooths over the bumps better than the script does. And then there’s the question of purpose - what exactly is the movie trying to say? By the time we reach that final scene, the thematic takeaway feels fuzzy. It gestures toward a moral about the dangers of chasing wealth and the importance of real love… yet simultaneously can’t resist glamorizing the perks. If there is one clear lesson to walk away with, it’s this: when you’ve got Glen Powell leading your movie, even a so-so film can feel like something worth watching.