TIFF Review: Carolina Caroline is a Crime Drama Focused on Love

      How can you tell when you shift from being good people pretending to be bad to recognizing that you’re simply bad people who can’t even deceive themselves into thinking otherwise? Caroline (Samara Weaving) poses this question earlier than might be anticipated, given that the criminal adventure she embarks on with her new boyfriend Oliver (Kyle Gallner) was initiated at her request. She didn’t merely take his suggestion and ponder why she’d never left her familiar surroundings. She didn’t just dismiss the idea of staying for the sake of safety. No, Caroline opted to confront those realities by becoming a full-fledged outlaw because it made her feel genuinely alive.

      Written by Tom Dean and directed by Adam Carter Rehmeier, Carolina Caroline primarily unfolds as a love story. This aspect attracted Rehmeier to the project, as he and Dean transformed a more refined Oliver into the country western drifter we see. We’re presented with a love-at-first-sight narrative; Caroline quietly observes him swindling her boss at the register while Oliver frequently checks to ensure she’s watching. He appreciates her audacity to demand the money he stole back, and she enjoys his friendly compliance before he unexpectedly mentions her name to pique her interest even further.

      From that point on, it’s all over. Even if we deceive ourselves into thinking he’s conning her for his own benefit or to exert the kind of power he openly craves, her genuine ability to unsettle him reveals that he was already too deep in. Caroline possessed his heart; Oliver received her unwavering mentoring. She aspired to learn everything to prove to herself that she too could wield that control. They might have successfully navigated their situation if they were willing to adhere to the script and focus solely on each other. However, she cannot release her father’s (Jon Gries) love or her mother’s (Kyra Sedgwick) abandonment, and he cannot deny her what she needs.

      Thus, the only possible outcome is tragedy, and the filmmakers make no attempt to conceal it. Carolina opens with Caroline stealing a man’s pickup at gunpoint alone before rewinding ten months to reveal a different young woman shelving products at a gas station when Oliver walks in. Enter the road-trip crash course in grifting and the electric chemistry of their partnership running amok with such expertise that their crimes might exude more allure than their intimate moments. They feel invincible as equals at the height of their game with nothing to lose… except each other. And therein lies the dilemma.

      We know what must transpire for them to remain together. They are aware of it too, if not for their own personal blind spots. Oliver himself states: When you know what a person lies to themselves about, you can manipulate them into doing almost anything. We can hear it in his voice every time he asks her, “Is that what you want?” He could intervene. He could manipulate her to save her, yet he chooses to follow her lead instead. This is why inevitable heartbreak feels destined in a poignant love story: what could be more romantic than surrendering control to your partner, even though you know it may lead to your own downfall?

      The reverse applies as well—things grow intense long before they spiral into chaos. What starts as harmless mistakes (the first bank heist attempt offers an unforgettable punchline) eventually escalates into necessary displays of force. Is the anger and violence Oliver expresses genuinely an act of survival as he claims? Or is that what has always lurked beneath his charm, entirely undetectable to Caroline’s love-struck eyes? While the plot darkens, her pain hits like a punch to the gut each time. It’s a testament to the direction, editing, and performances. We want to believe in the dream.

      Carolina Caroline is also quite humorous. Much of the comedy fades as threats escalate (aside from the final scene that leaves a smile), but it flourishes during the honeymoon phase of their relationship. That’s when the chemistry between Gallner and Weaving shines the brightest. They’re not merely making the audience laugh; we laugh alongside them as they effortlessly amuse each other. The shift is unsurprising after Caroline ultimately confronts her estranged mother; in a powerful scene contrasting the enduring love we’ve witnessed, Sedgwick becomes the only character laughing (on-screen and off).

      More akin to Dinner in America than Snack Shack, but it doesn’t fit entirely into either. Rehmeier masterfully navigates different genres while maintaining a genuine blend of comedy and drama. He isn’t afraid to aim for a big laugh, regardless of the topic, yet knows when to strike with emotional weight. This balance is crucial for truly entertaining the audience while ensuring something meaningful unfolds. If the characters’ actions seem superficial at times, it’s only because they remain unaware of what they don’t know until it becomes unavoidable. Gallner excels at revealing that veil. Weaving delivers a powerful performance as she faces her harsh reality.

      Car