Scott Frank is a genius at writing people who have completely given up on themselves. You probably know him from The Queen’s Gambit or Logan, but back in 2014, he took a crack at the Lawrence Block novels and gave us A Walk Among the Tombstones. It’s a mean, gray, miserable movie. I love it. Honestly, it’s a miracle it even got made in the middle of the "Liam Neeson with a gun" era because it’s the exact opposite of Taken.
Most people went into the theater expecting Bryan Mills. They wanted throat punches and high-speed chases. Instead, they got a recovering alcoholic named Matt Scudder who walks everywhere and spends a lot of time looking at microfiche in public libraries. It’s slow. It’s methodical.
The Scudder Factor: Not Your Typical Action Hero
Matt Scudder isn't a superhero. In the world of A Walk Among the Tombstones, he’s a guy who messed up so badly in the 90s that he can’t even look at a bottle of whiskey anymore. The film opens with a flashback to 1991, and it’s shot with this grainy, ugly texture that feels like a hangover. Scudder, sporting a truly questionable hairpiece and a thick mustache, gets into a shootout that leaves a bystander dead.
Fast forward to 1999. The world is panicking about Y2K. Scudder is unlicensed, uninsured, and works for "favors."
Neeson plays him with this heavy, slumped-shoulder exhaustion. He’s not jumping over fences. He’s asking questions. He’s a "private investigator" who doesn't like the term. The plot kicks off when a drug trafficker played by Dan Stevens (who is unrecognizable if you only know him from Downton Abbey) hires Scudder to find the men who kidnapped and murdered his wife.
This is where the movie gets controversial. It’s dark. Like, really dark.
The villains aren't motivated by some grand political scheme or a bank heist. They are just sadists. They prey on the families of criminals because they know their victims can't go to the police. It’s a parasitic relationship that makes the whole atmosphere feel oily. If you’re looking for a "feel-good" Friday night flick, this is absolutely not it.
Why the 1999 Setting Matters
Setting the film in 1999 wasn't just a stylistic choice by Scott Frank. It serves a functional purpose for the narrative. In 1999, you couldn't just Google a suspect. You couldn't track a burner phone with a satellite.
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Scudder has to do the legwork.
He spends time in the New York Public Library. He talks to a kid named TJ, played by Brian "Astro" Bradley, who becomes his de facto assistant. This relationship could have been incredibly cheesy—the jaded old white guy and the street-smart Black kid—but it works because they are both survivors. TJ is homeless and sick; Scudder is an addict. They recognize the same "brokenness" in each other.
The Y2K paranoia humming in the background acts as a metaphor for the general anxiety of the characters. Everyone thinks the world is ending because of a computer glitch, but for the victims in this movie, the world has already ended.
Understanding the "Neeson-aissance" Trap
When A Walk Among the Tombstones came out, Neeson was at the peak of his action-star status. Non-Stop had just come out earlier that year. Taken 3 was on the horizon. Marketing departments didn't know how to sell a somber, literary detective story.
They sold it as an action movie.
That was a mistake. Audiences felt cheated when they realized there were only about three minutes of actual "action" in a two-hour runtime. But if you watch it today, away from the hype of the 2010s, it stands up as a top-tier neo-noir. It’s much closer to Seven or Zodiac than it is to John Wick.
The cinematography by Mihai Mălaimare Jr. is stunning in its bleakness. He uses a desaturated palette that makes Brooklyn look like a cemetery even when they aren't in the actual Green-Wood Cemetery. Every interior looks cold. You can almost smell the stale coffee and cigarette smoke coming off the screen.
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The Problem With the Villains
If there is a legitimate critique of A Walk Among the Tombstones, it’s the villains. Albert and Ray are played by David Harbour and Adam David Thompson. They are terrifying, sure. They represent a very specific kind of banal evil—men who listen to classical music while doing horrific things.
But some critics, like those at The A.V. Club or The New York Times at the time of release, noted that the film leans heavily into the "women in refrigerators" trope. The violence against women is the primary engine of the plot, and while the film doesn't necessarily celebrate it, it is graphic. It’s a brutal watch.
However, the film tries to balance this by focusing on the aftermath. It’s about the grief and the violation. Dan Stevens’ character, Kenny Kristo, isn't a hero. He’s a drug dealer. But his grief is real. The movie forces you to sit with the idea that even "bad" people deserve justice when faced with pure psychopathy.
A Masterclass in Scriptwriting
Scott Frank is a writer first. You can hear it in the dialogue. There’s a scene where Scudder explains the "12 Steps" of AA while negotiating a ransom. It’s brilliant. He’s using the language of recovery to navigate a world of sin.
"I do favors for people. In return, they give me gifts."
That’s how Scudder operates. It’s a loophole. He doesn't want to be part of the system because the system failed him, or rather, he failed the system. The script doesn't over-explain his backstory. We see the 1991 incident, and we see him at AA meetings. We don't need a five-minute monologue about his ex-wife or his childhood. The weight is just there, in his eyes.
The pacing is also intentionally jarring. It’s slow, slow, slow, and then—violence. Just like real life. There are no choreographed dances here. People fumble with guns. They trip. They scream. It’s messy and unheroic.
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Is It Better Than the Books?
Lawrence Block wrote seventeen Matt Scudder novels. A Walk Among the Tombstones is actually the tenth book in the series. Hardcore fans of the books often have mixed feelings because the movie compresses so much.
In the books, Scudder is even more of a ghost. He’s a man who lives in a hotel room and pays his tithes to the church not because he’s religious, but because he’s superstitious. The movie captures that vibe but streamlines the investigation.
If you’ve never read the books, the movie is a perfect entry point. It captures the "urban gothic" feel of Block’s New York. This isn't the New York of Sex and the City. This is the New York of the Meatpacking District before it was trendy. It’s dirty, dangerous, and indifferent to whether you live or die.
Why You Should Re-Watch It Now
We are currently in a "Post-Action" Neeson era where his movies have become almost parodies of themselves. Watching A Walk Among the Tombstones reminds you that Liam Neeson is a phenomenal dramatic actor. He’s an Academy Award nominee for a reason.
When he’s not being asked to be a cardboard cutout of an action hero, he can convey a depth of regret that is rare in Hollywood.
The film also feels more relevant in a landscape where we are obsessed with "True Crime." It deconstructs the voyeurism of crime. It asks what it costs to look into the abyss. By the time the credits roll, you don't feel "pumped up." You feel like you need a shower and maybe a long walk. That’s the mark of a successful noir.
Key Takeaways for the Modern Viewer
- Adjust your expectations: Don't look for a high-octane thriller. Approach it as a character study of a man trying to find redemption in a sewer.
- Watch the background: The 1999 setting is packed with details. Look for the Y2K posters and the old tech. It’s a time capsule of a very specific moment in American history.
- Pay attention to the sound design: The wind, the city hum, and the silence are just as important as the score. It’s an atmospheric masterpiece.
- Follow the "12 Steps": The movie is structured loosely around the concept of the 12-step program. Scudder is trying to make amends, and the case is his way of doing it.
If you’re tired of the shiny, over-produced thrillers on Netflix, go back and find this one. It’s available on most VOD platforms and often pops up on Max or Peacock. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the best stories are the ones that aren't afraid to be ugly.
Next Steps for the Film Buff:
If this movie clicks for you, your next stop should be the 1986 film 8 Million Ways to Die. It’s another Scudder adaptation starring Jeff Bridges. It’s very 80s, but it offers a fascinating contrast to Neeson’s portrayal. After that, pick up the Lawrence Block novel of the same name. The prose is lean, mean, and will give you a much deeper look into Scudder's fractured psyche than a two-hour movie ever could.