Editor’s Note: This article contains spoilers.
In Los Angeles, where tents line the sidewalks and luxury condos scrape the sky, “Locked” forces its audience to confront the uncomfortable question: What happens when the system meant to protect us no longer works for most of us?
According to federal data from January 2024, California had a homeless population of 187,084, 66% of whom are unsheltered – the highest rate in the nation.
Governor Gavin Newsom’s actions toward the issue have reduced California’s statewide increase to 3% in comparison to the nationwide increase of 18% in 2024. However, “Locked” criticizes the methods used by politicians to achieve this, as well as the system as a whole, through anxiety-inducing cinematography and blunt dialogue.
This 2025 horror movie is a remake of the 2019 Argentinian action film “4X4,” and explores the tension between the conservative and liberal views of justice. Bill Skarsgård plays Eddie, a thief trapped in the luxury SUV of William – a psychotic, self-proclaimed vigilante with terminal cancer – played by Anthony Hopkins. Watching the actors of Pennywise and Hannibal Lecter argue about poverty and the judicial system was highly enjoyable as a horror fan.
The movie opens with stressed delivery driver Eddie in a pink sweatshirt dashing around Los Angeles, empty wallet in hand. His van is in the shop, leaving him unable to work. Desperate for money to pick up his daughter from school, he offers himself for work, calls unwilling friends for a loan and even buys lottery tickets. Finally, he spots a conveniently unlocked SUV called Dolus, meaning “trickery” or “deception” in Latin, and decides to try to loot it, a deadly mistake.
Despite working full time, Eddie is barely able to support himself and his part of child support payments for his daughter. He is falling from the middle class into poverty, a despairingly common situation for Californians due to the housing crisis, inflation and gas prices.
The filthy rich antagonist, William, is introduced through frequent phone calls through his car’s interior screen. His uppity English accent adds to his pretentious, insufferable character, an admirable feat of voice acting by Hopkins. He introduces himself as the owner of this claustrophobic car and has full control over the electric vehicle and, therefore Eddie’s survival. The killer SUV, Dolus, is equipped with tasers, bulletproof windows, steel-plated doors, surveillance cameras and external driving controls.
William harbors an internal hatred for criminals, as his car has been broken into seven times. He states his motive straightforwardly: to bring justice to the system by punishing one criminal for his actions.
William constantly harps on the lower class throughout the movie. In one scene where he remotely swerves Dolus through the Skid Row of L.A. with Eddie inside, he provides a harrowing, dehumanizing narration of the homeless people Eddie sees through the car windows, calling them “animals” and the reason for society’s demise. Eddie fires back at every comment, passionately yelling out his liberal view of the issue – that these people are victims of a rigged economic system in people like William’s favor – a statement that earns Eddie shocks from the car’s tasers.
Eddie counters William’s critique of crime and drug use among the poor by arguing that L.A.’s financial strain pushes people onto the streets – and into survival-driven illegal choices. An age-old moral debate of stealing to feed one’s family is represented here: Eddie broke into William’s car for the money to pick up his daughter. What does justice look like in this situation?
The armored Dolus itself becomes a third main character as the unrelenting executor of Williams’ revenge. It’s also a representation of Eddie’s view of the government. William controls the car; Eddie faces the consequences, being thrown against the walls as the car recklessly whips around streets. In a gory action scene, the car becomes, in William’s view, a punitive weapon of justice when it crushes a criminal against a fence, Eddie’s screams muted by the car’s soundproof design. Dolus is a metaphor for a legislative system where the powerful make the rules and the poor pay the price.
William is enraged that the six previous break-ins went unpunished, hence why he took Eddie’s cruel and unusual punishment into his own hands. William calls the L.A. police force powerless. Here, “Locked” comments on California’s cop shortage, as this ABC article notes that L.A. has over 1,400 unfilled deputy positions.
But Eddie argues the issue isn’t just the lack of law enforcement – it’s the system itself. He believes people should be helped, not punished, shifting the blame from individuals to institutional failure.
The tension between Eddie and William also connects to a generational opposition. A recent update to a 2011 study found that Generation Z Americans have a greater capacity for empathy than other generations and have a valuable perspective to add in a world of poverty politics. Eddie’s consistent resistance to William, despite the electrical shocks, starvation, dehydration and mental manipulation he endured, shows the resilience of oppressed humanity in a tough world. The movie as a whole serves to portray the underprivileged criminal’s side of the story in a humanizing light.
While the movie lacks subtlety and favors one side of the political spectrum, it contributes a humanistic viewpoint to the debate about California’s current trials of increasing homelessness, systemic poverty and police shortages. The tension-filled performances of Skarsgård and Hopkins were convincing, and there was a satisfying balance between suspense and action, a feat difficult to achieve for a film set in one location.
“Locked” inspired me to have a more nuanced view of our state’s recent political issues, and I walked out of the theatre feeling thoughtful.
Nick Hancock