Inside the Cell: David Mamet, Shia LaBeouf, and the Stark Power of “Henry Johnson”
If you’re the kind of moviegoer who can’t help but track the personal controversies, political opinions, and public baggage of artists, then Henry Johnson—a new film directed and written by David Mamet, starring Shia LaBeouf—is going to push a lot of your buttons. For some, it might be a reason to skip it. But for others, it might be a strange draw in itself.
Let’s be real: Mamet and LaBeouf aren’t exactly public darlings right now. Mamet has long been a polarizing figure, especially since his 2008 essay where he declared he was no longer a “brain-dead liberal.” It was a moment that made headlines and triggered quite a few dramatic responses from fans on the left. Though honestly, for many, the more natural response wasn’t fainting on a velvet chaise but rolling their eyes and moving on—especially when Mamet tried to convince everyone that economist and famously dry writer Thomas Sowell was “our greatest contemporary philosopher.”
Still, Mamet’s politics aside, his work has long been admired for its razor-sharp dialogue and tense emotional drama. A recent essay in The New Republic even questioned whether Mamet’s plays were ever as politically progressive as some believed in the first place. But let’s put that debate aside for a moment. In the end, whether you love or hate his politics, Mamet’s best work tends to speak for itself.
Then There’s LaBeouf…
And now we come to the second wildcard in Henry Johnson—Shia LaBeouf. Once seen as a prodigious young talent, LaBeouf has gone from Hollywood’s golden boy to something far more complicated. He’s been involved in a slew of controversies, from legal troubles to serious allegations of abuse, and it’s fair to say that for many people, his name alone is a red flag.
Even if you decide to separate the art from the artist—and not everyone can or wants to—LaBeouf’s recent performances haven’t exactly helped his case. His improvisational turn in Abel Ferrara’s Padre Pio was widely regarded as a mess, and his performance in Francis Ford Coppola’s Megalopolis was a chaotic, dialed-up-to-eleven spectacle that didn’t land well with a lot of viewers.
So when it was announced that Mamet and LaBeouf would be teaming up for Henry Johnson, reactions ranged from curiosity to outright dread. Could this actually work?
Back to Mamet’s Roots
Here’s the twist: Henry Johnson isn’t just a collaboration between two controversial artists—it’s also a return to form for David Mamet. This is him writing and directing, which means you’re getting Mamet at full power. Anyone familiar with his earlier films like House of Games or Homicide will recognize the sharp, staccato dialogue, the intense verbal sparring, and the philosophical weight that always hovers just under the surface.
In his early days, Mamet worked closely with actor Joe Mantegna, a Chicago theater vet who mastered Mamet’s very particular rhythms. That trademark style—fast, clipped, elliptical—requires a certain discipline from actors. Over the years, Mamet has sometimes mellowed, especially when collaborating with performers from other traditions, like Gene Hackman in the excellent 2001 heist movie Heist. But Henry Johnson sees Mamet circling back to his most distilled style.
Meet Henry Johnson
The film starts with a series of tightly wound conversations that could almost be scenes lifted from a stage play. Fitting, since the film is based on a recent theatrical work Mamet wrote. Evan Jongkeit stars in the title role—and interestingly, he’s married to Mamet’s daughter, actress Zosia Mamet, so there’s some family synergy here.
Henry is a sharply dressed, highly composed lawyer. Early on, he’s called in by his boss, Mr. Barnes (played by the always solid Chris Bauer), for what seems like a professional discussion about abortion. But this isn’t a soapbox moment. Mamet resists the temptation to launch into political grandstanding—instead, the issue is a red herring. What really matters is why Henry is trying so hard to get a particular party the best legal defense possible.
This slow-burning conversation builds with layer upon layer of cryptic, intellectual dialogue until the twist hits—and suddenly, we find Henry behind bars. The specifics of what got him there are revealed slowly, but the real shift comes with his new environment: a prison cell that will serve as the film’s main setting for most of its runtime.
Enter Gene, a Parable-Spouting Cellmate
And that’s where we meet LaBeouf’s character, Gene—a philosophical, strange, unsettling inmate who speaks in riddles and fairy tales. Within moments, he’s unpacking a symbolic interpretation of Snow White and spouting ominous lines like, “All the human race has something between their legs that can be taken.”
For Henry, a buttoned-up legal mind, Gene’s ramblings might seem like deranged nonsense. And let’s be honest—most of us, if thrown into a cell with someone like Gene, would be yelling for a transfer. But there’s a method to Mamet’s madness here. What initially seems like babble soon reveals itself as something deeper. Gene isn’t just talking to hear himself; he’s drawing Henry (and the audience) into a larger existential framework.
And this is where the big surprise of Henry Johnson kicks in: Shia LaBeouf is really good in this. Gone is the chaotic energy of Megalopolis or the improvisational messiness of Padre Pio. Under Mamet’s strict direction, LaBeouf delivers a performance that’s layered, restrained, and unsettling in all the right ways.
It’s a stark reminder that even problematic performers can still turn in incredible work—especially when given tight direction and material that challenges them in productive ways.
Minimalist Structure, Maximum Impact
The film doesn’t bounce around settings or timelines. Instead, Henry Johnson takes place across just three primary scenes, with the majority of the action confined to the prison cell. This minimalist structure allows the film to focus intensely on character, dialogue, and philosophical tension.
The final act breaks out of the cell slightly, introducing a hostage situation within the prison. That’s when we meet a prison guard played by Dominic Hoffman, who delivers one of the film’s most powerful lines: “We gotta make a choice. Because what is the alternative?”
That line isn’t just about the literal crisis at hand—it cuts to the bone of the film’s existential questions. What do we do when we’re stuck in impossible circumstances? What’s the cost of action, or inaction? And how do we hold onto our sense of self in a system designed to strip it away?
Not Vintage Mamet, But a Full Meal
Is Henry Johnson Mamet at his absolute peak? Probably not. Fans of his earlier, more iconic works might find the script a little less tight or memorable. But that doesn’t mean this film isn’t worth your time. In fact, it might be one of Mamet’s most emotionally effective and intellectually engaging films in years.
It’s also a masterclass in how limitations—whether in setting, character count, or even public perception—can become strengths. By narrowing the focus, Mamet digs deeper into his characters, their choices, and the larger philosophical themes that have always fascinated him: morality, power, truth, and identity.
And yes, it’s true that the cast comes with baggage. But if you can set that aside—or at least keep it in the background—you’ll find a film that is tense, haunting, and surprisingly moving.
Final Thoughts
Henry Johnson is a film that challenges both its characters and its audience. It asks tough questions, offers no easy answers, and forces you to sit with discomfort. That might not be everyone’s idea of a good time, especially in an entertainment landscape filled with feel-good distractions and fast-paced spectacle.
But for those who appreciate sharp writing, complex characters, and philosophical tension, Henry Johnson offers something different—and something valuable.
It might not redeem either Mamet or LaBeouf in the eyes of their critics, but it does something arguably more important: it proves that art, even when created by flawed people, can still be powerful, insightful, and deeply human.
And sometimes, that’s the most anyone can ask from a film.
