Blinded by the Naïve Quest for Machismo

Somehow, Nick Cassavetes's "Alpha Dog" manages to be both a funny stoner film and a brutal antidrug opus, an unlikely buddy tragedy that encourages us to identify and sympathize with, and condemn, a clique of young gangster wannabees as they make the biggest mistake of their lives.

It's a complicated mix of emotions, yet the movie uses the formula to draw us in with deceiving ease, inviting us along on the aimless, funny, carefree romp of four teenage potheads. Silly, occasionally idiotic early party scenes create an interesting social foundation for the tragedy to follow. Unlike so many drug films — like "Blow," also written by Mr. Cassavetes — which follow the smalltime dealer as he traverses the standard greedy arc of the rich kingpin, "Alpha Dog" is less about wanting money than wanting to be macho.

In one notable early scene, the clan gathers around the television and mocks the rappers on the screen. "The only thing they shoot is music videos," one says, and the others laugh. These tough guys on-screen, with their gold chains and foul mouths, are only posers, these guys seem to think. We are the real thing.

So when Johnny Truelove (Emile Hirsch), a pot pusher and would-be thug, gets screwed out of some money by Jake (Ben Foster), he lashes out, waving a gun and threatening to kill the deadbeat customer. Jake, clearly high on drugs, returns the threat, and a suburban war is unleashed.

Enter Zack (Anton Yelchin), the innocent 15-year-old bystander who will unwittingly become the main player in the tragedy. Running away from home one day, terrified that his parents discovered his bong, Zack is spotted on the side of the road by Johnny, who recognizes him as Jake's brother, grabs him, and throws him in the back of his van. What exactly he, or his crew, hope to do with the boy is never really discussed; for the time being, they tie him up in a closet and head out to party.

It's not until much later that these kids begin to realize they have bitten off far more than they can chew. After partying in Palm Springs, Johnny, who wants to go off with his girl, passes Zack off to Frankie (Justin Timberlake), his friend and confidante, who takes the "prisoner" back to his dad's place. There they sleep, talk, swim in the pool, and invite friends over to share a joint. Frankie doesn't feel like a kidnapper — this whole thing is just a bluff anyway, meant to get Jake to pay Johnny — and Zack doesn't feel like a kidnapping victim. Finally away from his parents, he's free to do all the drugs and kiss all the girls he wants.

But the truth is that he is a prisoner and he has been abducted, and back home Zack's parents are terrified. When Johnny, in a rare state of sobriety, stops by a pay phone to call his dad's lawyer, asking how much trouble he could be in for what he's done, he's told that he's looking at jail time. Demand ransom, he's told, and he's looking at life. A little later he calls Jake, hoping to negotiate an under-the-table deal, and Jake launches into a hysterical tirade, promising revenge.

Late in the movie, when their light-hearted drifting stops on a dime and these young men snap to attention, their bubble of indifference and apathy is shattered by reality. In a panic, the would-be thugs start to strategize, but they are all way out of their league, and they know it. When an oblivious Zack drops his young, tough-guy imitation one evening and talks about returning home to his mother, he seems to be speaking for his captors as well.

Messrs. Hirsch and Timberlake are far more convincing in these later scenes, when they are allowed to dial down their macho façades and project the more genuine fear of two naïve kids living out a waking nightmare. Mr. Hirsch's final demise is presented less in terms of money or jail time than in the loss of his masculinity.

Mr. Timberlake, in particular, as he grows closer to young Zack, becomes the movie's moral conscience. We sense long before the end credits that, jail or not, something about his spirit has been destroyed forever when idle threats become deadly, rash decisions.

Ultimately, it's Mr. Cassavetes who takes the film's disparate themes and finds a way to weave them together into a surprisingly jarring, heartbreaking climax. Throughout the film, he uses subtitles, detailing locations and times of day. But as Zack is abducted, another term starts appearing beneath the time and location: witness. During the abduction, he identifies "witness no. 1" and "witness no. 2," continuing to label more than 30 witnesses who will later be instrumental in convicting Johnny, Frankie, and their boys. No matter how much fun these thugs are having in the moment, these subtitles continually remind us of how deep their quagmire is becoming.

Mr. Cassavetes also breaks up the action with a series of raw interviews, all involving the primary characters, but seemingly conducted in the future by a fictional newsman. The film opens with Johnny's father (Bruce Willis) recalling the scandal that reversed the course of his son's life and closes with Zack's mother (Sharon Stone) recalling the anguish that consumed her. These moments pointedly break up the marathon of partying, smoking, and kissing, creating a stark contrast to the ambivalence of these 24-hour-party-people.

Forget the ads, this is not a movie about drugs, money, or murder. It's about a bunch of guys who wanted to be cool — the heroes of their own personal music video — and who were willing to sacrifice their souls to get there.