The Usual Suspects Review: How Bryan Singer’s Crime Thriller Became the Blueprint for Every Plot Twist Movie You’ve Ever Loved
The Usual Suspects review: Bryan Singer’s crime thriller redefined plot twists. We break down why Kevin Spacey’s Oscar-winning con still devastates audiences.
⚠️ TERMS & CONDITIONS: By proceeding, you acknowledge that this review may cause: spontaneous rewatching, obsessive bulletin-board scrutiny, trust issues with narrators, and the uncontrollable urge to quote “and like that…he was gone” at inappropriate moments. Side effects include mind-blowing plot revelations and permanent coffee mug awareness.
[adjusts metaphorical monocle with suspicious precision]
INTRO 💀
Bryan Singer’s The Usual Suspects doesn’t just pull the rug out from under you—it makes you realize you’ve been standing on quicksand the whole damn time.
QUICK TAKE (No Spoilers) ☕
Five career criminals get rounded up for a lineup they didn’t deserve, bond over a seriously obscene police statement, and wind up tangled in the web of mythical crime lord Keyser Söze. What follows is a deliciously twisted game of cat-and-mouse told through flashbacks, interrogation-room mind games, and enough misdirection to make a magician weep. It’s Rashomon meets Chinatown with a healthy dose of dark humor and a twist ending that’ll punch you straight in the cerebral cortex.
🎭 THE SETUP: TRUTH, LIES, AND BULLETIN BOARDS
[leans back in director’s chair, coffee in hand]
Let’s get one thing crystal clear: Janet Maslin of The New York Times called this “the freshest, funniest and scariest crime thriller” since Pulp Fiction, and she wasn’t blowing smoke. On the flip side, Roger Ebert famously threw shade with his 1.5-star scorcher, admitting he understood it but adding bluntly that he didn’t care (Chicago Sun-Times). This split? It’s the whole ballgame, folks—The Usual Suspects is a film that demands you lean in, pay attention, and trust that the sleight of hand pays off. Some viewers felt manipulated; others felt mesmerized.
Me? I’m Team Mesmerized with a side of “holy hell, I need to watch that again.”
“The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist. The second greatest? Making you think you were watching a heist movie when you were actually watching a magic show.”
📝 SCREENPLAY & STRUCTURE: THE BLUEPRINT OF BRILLIANCE
Where McQuarrie Schools Everyone on Misdirection
Christopher McQuarrie’s Oscar-winning screenplay is a masterclass in narrative architecture. The dude literally started with just a concept—five guys in a police lineup (fun fact: the idea came from a Spy magazine column titled “The Usual Suspects,” itself a nod to Casablanca). What he built from that kernel is a labyrinthine puzzle box that plays fair while lying through its teeth.
The non-linear structure isn’t just flashy—it’s functional. [taps temple knowingly] Every flashback serves dual purpose: advancing the heist plot while simultaneously feeding us clues we’re too distracted to notice. The interrogation scenes between Verbal Kint (Kevin Spacey) and Agent Kujan (Chazz Palminteri) act as our narrative spine, but here’s the kicker—what we see in flashback is filtered through Verbal’s…well, verbal storytelling. And homeboy’s literally making it up by glancing around the office.
Critics noted the film’s intricate plotting. One reviewer observed it features “dense plot intricacies, thick with atmosphere” (Lisa Schwarzbaum, Entertainment Weekly), while another described it as a work where audiences would be “happy to get lost in” this criminal maze. The screenplay doesn’t just twist—it pirouettes, backflips, and sticks the landing.
The genius? McQuarrie previously worked for a detective agency, so the criminal and law enforcement dynamics feel lived-in, authentic. These aren’t cartoon crooks—they’re professionals with specific skill sets, personalities, and the kind of casual criminality that makes them terrifyingly plausible.
🎬 DIRECTION: SINGER’S SYMPHONY OF SHADOWS
Style as Substance
Bryan Singer was a relative nobody when he made this (his debut Public Access won at Sundance, but still). Here, he announces himself as a filmmaker who understands that form should enact theme, not merely illustrate it.
Concrete Example #1: The opening scene. We see someone shoot Gabriel Byrne and set a ship ablaze—but the gunman’s face stays hidden. Singer uses shadow, negative space, and obscured angles to literalize the film’s central conceit: identity is fluid, perspective is unreliable, and what you think you’re seeing ain’t necessarily what’s actually happening.
Concrete Example #2: The interrogation scenes. Cinematographer Newton Thomas Sigel developed a technique using “slow, creeping zooms and dolly moves that ended in tight close-ups” to add energy to confined spaces. These imperceptible movements create psychological pressure—you feel Kujan closing in on Verbal even when the camera’s barely moving.
[does chef’s kiss with exaggerated flair]
Singer’s direction embraces noir aesthetics—chiaroscuro lighting, deep shadows, morally ambiguous characters—but never feels derivative. The film’s visual palette is muted grays and sickly yellows, creating a world where everyone’s guilty of something.
🎭 PERFORMANCES: THE ENSEMBLE THAT EATS SCENERY
Kevin Spacey’s Oscar-Bait Masterclass
Let’s address the elephant in the room: Kevin Spacey’s performance as Verbal Kint is transcendent. The man glued his fingers together to achieve that paralyzed hand effect (true story), and his club-footed shuffle is so convincing you forget you’re watching acting. Spacey plays Verbal with the “wounded innocence of a kid who ate all the cookies” (as Ebert grudgingly admitted), layering in puppy-dog vulnerability while subtly telegraphing the intelligence underneath.
Here’s where critical consensus splits: some reviewers saw Spacey as the film’s anchor; others felt Gabriel Byrne’s Dean Keaton carried the emotional weight. Byrne plays Keaton as a man genuinely trying to go straight, and his world-weariness feels earned, not performed. When Keaton talks about wanting out, you believe him—which makes the film’s ultimate revelation even more devastating.
The supporting ensemble—Benicio del Toro’s mumbly Fenster, Stephen Baldwin’s hot-headed McManus, Kevin Pollak’s sardonic Hockney—creates genuine chemistry. That iconic lineup scene? Total accident. The actors were cracking each other up (del Toro was apparently farting through takes), and Singer, initially furious, eventually kept the laughter because it showed these criminals bonding. Sometimes the best moments come from chaos.
[grins mischievously]
Pete Postlethwaite’s Kobayashi deserves special mention—all icy menace and British politeness, he’s the kind of villain who’ll destroy your life while offering you excellent tea.
“This film doesn’t have performances. It has possessions. Each actor channels their character so completely you forget they’re pretending.”
📸 CINEMATOGRAPHY: PAINTING WITH SHADOWS
Sigel’s Visual Poetry
Newton Thomas Sigel’s cinematography is lush—and on a $6 million budget, that’s witchcraft. The film was shot in 35 days across LA, San Pedro, and NYC (though eagle-eyed viewers spotted palm trees during the supposedly New York-set jewelry heist—whoops! 🌴).
Sigel uses light and shadow like a noir expressionist. The interrogation room scenes are deliberately claustrophobic, all harsh fluorescents and coffee-stained walls. Contrast that with the flashback sequences, which use deeper focus and wider compositions to suggest we’re seeing “objective” reality—except we’re not. We’re seeing Verbal’s fabrication.
The film’s aspect ratio (2.35:1 Panavision) stays “superbly filled,” as Variety noted, using widescreen compositions for maximum visual information. Every frame is packed with clues—the bulletin board, coffee mugs, magazine covers. Sigel doesn’t waste an inch.
🎵 SOUND & MUSIC: OTTMAN’S DUAL MASTERY
When One Job Isn’t Enough
Here’s a fun fact that sounds like Hollywood mythology but isn’t: John Ottman was both the film’s editor and composer. That’s like asking someone to be a chef and a sommelier simultaneously—except Ottman nailed both roles with such precision that it became his signature move.
His score is “haunting” and “minimalist,” building tension through restraint rather than bombast. The final montage—where Verbal’s lies unravel in rapid-fire succession—wouldn’t work without Ottman’s overlapping dialogue editing and crescendoing strings. That fortissimo finale when the sketch of Söze arrives? Chef’s kiss.
The sound design is equally meticulous. Every footstep, every lighter click, every coffee slurp adds texture. Singer and Ottman realized during editing that they needed to sell two competing narratives: Keaton as Söze, then Verbal as Söze. Ottman’s solution? A montage that “relates key dialogue to images,” making the audience’s synapses fire in exactly the right sequence.
✂️ EDITING: WHERE THE MAGIC HAPPENS
[leans forward conspiratorially]
Editing is the film. Ottman’s cuts between interrogation room and flashback create a rhythm that feels inevitable—until the final reveal makes you realize the rhythm was chosen, constructed, manipulated. The film’s pacing never drags because Ottman keeps information flowing while withholding crucial context.
That final five minutes? Pure editorial alchemy. As Kujan pieces together Verbal’s deception, we see rapid cuts of bulletin board details, coffee mug brands, names from shipping manifests—everything Verbal spun his story from. It’s a symphony of reveals that would collapse without precise timing.
🎯 THEME: THE UNRELIABLE NARRATOR AS PROTAGONIST
The film grapples with Big Questions: What is truth? Can narrative create reality? If everyone’s lying, does objective truth even exist? As one reviewer astutely noted, the film explores “the queasy appeal of an unmoored past being constantly made and remade.”
The Usual Suspects is ultimately about storytelling itself—how we construct meaning from chaos, how we believe what we want to believe, how a skilled narrator can weaponize our assumptions. Verbal doesn’t just lie; he collaborates with Kujan’s biases, letting the agent build the very prison he wants to believe in.
“In a world where everyone’s running a con, the biggest mark is the one sitting in the audience, smugly thinking they’ve got it all figured out.”
⚠️ SPOILERS AHEAD – SERIOUSLY, TURN BACK NOW ⚠️
THE TWIST THAT LAUNCHED A THOUSAND THINKPIECES
Okay, cards on the table: Verbal Kint IS Keyser Söze. The club foot? Fake. The limp? Performance art. The entire yarn about Keaton? Improvised from office debris. That moment when Verbal walks out of the police station, straightening his gait and flexing his “paralyzed” hand while John Ottman’s score swells? [does dramatic slow clap] Cinema, baby.
Here’s why it works when it could’ve been a cheap gotcha: McQuarrie and Singer don’t cheat. Every clue is there—from the Turkish/German translation of “Keyser Söze” (literally “talks too much”) to Verbal’s name (he’s called “Verbal” because he talks too much). The film plays fair while hiding in plain sight.
The final montage—showing Kujan’s face as recognition dawns, intercut with Verbal’s transformation and the fax machine sketch arriving too late—is devastating precisely because we’ve been complicit in our own deception. We wanted Keaton to be Söze because it fit the heroic redemption narrative. We dismissed Verbal because, well, who suspects the weak guy?
Singer told all five actors at different points that they were Söze (Gabriel Byrne was so convinced he yelled at Singer after a screening). That paranoia bleeds into the performances—everyone’s playing both innocent and guilty simultaneously.
⚖️ THE CRITICAL DIVIDE: MANIPULATION VS. MASTERY
Roger Ebert’s criticism—that the film prioritizes manipulation over motivation—isn’t wrong, exactly. If you value emotional catharsis and character depth over structural innovation, The Usual Suspects might feel hollow. The reveal does, in some ways, invalidate the journey.
But Hal Hinson (Washington Post) nailed the counterargument: the film may be too clever for its own good, but “how little this intrudes on our enjoyment” speaks volumes. After the credits roll, you’re still trying to connect dots, and “how often can we say that?”
This ain’t The Shawshank Redemption. It’s not about hope or humanity. It’s about craft, audacity, and the sheer balls-to-the-wall pleasure of watching filmmakers execute a high-wire act without a net.
🎯 THE VERDICT: DOES IT HOLD UP?
[removes imaginary director’s beret with theatrical flair]
The Usual Suspects remains a benchmark crime thriller nearly 30 years later. Yes, the twist has been spoiled for most modern viewers (thanks, internet). Yes, some secondary characters feel underdeveloped. And yes, there’s a coffee mug continuity error that’ll haunt you forever once you notice it. ☕
But here’s the thing: even knowing the twist, the film rewards repeat viewings. You catch new details—that look Verbal gives Keaton, the way he scans the bulletin board, how every “random” name has a source. The journey becomes archaeological, excavating clues you missed when you were focused on the destination.
What would bump it up: More character development for Fenster, McManus, and Hockney. As one astute reviewer noted, when these guys die, there’s no emotional weight because we barely know them.
What would drop it down: If the twist felt cheap or unearned. It doesn’t. But if you’re the type who needs emotional resonance over intellectual gamesmanship, this might frustrate you.
⭐ RATING: ★★★★½ out of 5
Why not the full five?
The secondary ensemble deserves more dimension, and Ebert’s “manipulation over motivation” critique has merit. This is a film you admire more than love—but damn, do you admire the hell out of it.
📚 HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT
Your mission, should you choose to accept it: Watch The Usual Suspects twice. First time, just enjoy the ride. Second time? Pause. Examine. Scrutinize every item in that police office like you’re studying for the bar exam. Count how many coffee brands, shipping companies, and random names Verbal mentions that correspond to visible objects. Bonus points if you spot the magazine stand displaying publications from 1990-1994 when these guys leave the station (another goofus for ya). Report back with your findings. Winner gets eternal bragging rights and deep trust issues.
✨ FINAL THOUGHTS
The Usual Suspects is the cinematic equivalent of a magician showing you exactly how the trick works…after you’ve already been fooled. It’s cocky, stylish, sometimes infuriating, frequently brilliant, and always watchable. McQuarrie and Singer bet everything on one reveal and won the jackpot. Kevin Spacey deserved that Oscar. John Ottman deserves sainthood for juggling composer/editor duties. And you? You deserve to watch this movie at least three times—once for the plot, once for the clues, and once for the sheer craftsmanship.
Like Keyser Söze himself, this film convinces you it’s something it’s not—and by the time you realize the truth, it’s already walked out the door with your wallet, your watch, and your ability to trust narrators ever again.
[tips fedora with knowing smirk]
Until next time, keep your eyes on the bulletin board and your coffee mug full—you never know what details you’re missing while watching the show.
— The Cine Sage 🎭✨
P.S. – Who is Keyser Söze? By now, you should know better than to ask me. 😏
