You love to see it, that introductory shot of an action hero, swaggering onto the scene with bulging muscles, eyes simmering with an intoxicating mix of easy charm and latent rage. The list of actors who can pull it off is shorter than you think, and for every John Wayne and Bruce Willis, the history of film is littered with the names of aspirant stars who, as they say in the industry, just didn’t have it. Forced to work with inideal casting, directors have found innumerable ways to put lipstick on the pig, from sweaty tank tops and massive weaponry to withering dialogue and lustful onlookers. Jeremy Saulnier must have known there was no need to compensate; how else do you explain the visage of Aaron Pierre’s hulking personage pouring out from either side of a bicycle that looks like a toy underneath his imposing frame. It’s an inversion that suggests strength in meekness, like Clark Kent at his desk job, cosplaying as anything less than extraordinary. There’s a courage in allowing oneself to be underestimated, a belief in the power of restraint Rebel Ridge embodies in every manner imaginable.

You certainly wouldn’t begrudge our protagonist for going nuclear, given the movie’s unimpeachably skewed stakes. The bike ride on which we meet Terry Richmond, locked into a pair of earbuds that blare Iron Maiden, is a fraught one, aimed toward a Louisiana court house where he seeks to post bail for a cousin who’s set to be transferred to state prison in a matter of hours. We only come by this information via interrogation, as the chorus to The Number of the Beast has barely hit when Richmond is struck with a police vehicle, detained on the pavement, and questioned with haphazard suspicion. His already limited time table shrinks considerably when the boys in blue drive off after seizing his cash, forcing Terry to seek payback, both literal and metaphorical, before it’s too late.

 It doesn’t take much to gain a viewer’s sympathy, and Saulnier shows prescient impatience by launching his audience straight into the proceedings. Foregoing all the backstory padding and meet-and-greets that open most revenge-fueled flicks, the writer/director is confident enough in the injustice of the scene to steer straight past table setting into incident. You’ll have time to catch up on the finer details along the way, with the screenplay cleverly parceling out relevant information and character shading as the plot unfurls, shrewdly timing each new revelation for maximum momentum and impact. What matters in those opening moments is stewing the viewer into a sense of rage, which is accomplished here with ruthless efficiency. Anger is a simple emotion, most keenly felt without nuance and its dulling side effects.

The image of law enforcement harassing a man whose only crime is Biking While Black is sure to incense observers of any political inclination, though the nature of that exasperation will vary from person to person. Rather than both-sidesing the central tension, Rebel Ridge’s denouncement of abusive police practices is clear-eyed and full-throated, employing a cinematic form that usually tilts right to tell a story that veers violently left. You could call it playing to the cheap seats, placating frustrated liberals while openly inviting conservative viewers to cite anti-authority propaganda, but it’s refreshing to watch a down-the-middle entertainment that isn’t afraid to plant its flag. Such polemical filmmaking is more often reserved for stuffy, straight-laced awards fodder, but Saulnier’s flick gains weight and fervor for deploying it in genre fare, and though Rebel Ridge declines the use of white hooded figures to cinch its point, you can almost feel a giant cross burning somewhere off in the far distance.

It wouldn’t have been Saulnier’s first time depicting a group of bloodthirsty white supremacists, though the visceral brutality they so eagerly wrought in 2016’s barbarous and excellent Green Room is largely absent here. In its place is a powder keg with the longest wick you’ve ever seen, and if there’s a complaint to be made about Rebel Ridge, it regards the film’s 131 minute runtime, and the manner in which it constantly ratchets up tension with precious little payoff along the way. A movie can only trick you so many times with a pummeling score and faces that sweat in stillness; once you’re aware of the film’s reticence toward violence, the air starts to thin out a little. The padded runtime isn’t aided by AnnaSophia Robb, though the actor isn’t the problem. Her role as a fresh faced practitioner of the law who becomes our hero’s unwitting sidekick provides levity to a movie with no use for it, especially when our two other leads are so capable and insistent on drowning it out.

Having revitalized his career by applying a sinister sheen to his signature smirk, Don Johnson is in familiar territory as a compromised chief of police, but that doesn’t mean he’s only going through the motions. Smooth talking and self possessed, he casts an imposing shadow as film’s nefarious big bad while hardly ever raising his voice, perhaps aware that any level of vamping would be a disservice to the exploding star he’s been pitted against. With a voice pitched somewhere beneath the earth’s crust and emotive eyes that glimmer with intelligence and malice, Pierre obliterates his first starring role, and though the movie around him would likely be worth a flier without him, the relative unknown turns it into essential viewing. Just as adept at wielding his esteemable eloquence as his adonis-like body, Pierre’s magnetism here is undeniable, and the actor seems destined to parley this shining moment into top billing on a slew of kinetic thrillers going forward. Here’s hoping they carry even a modicum of the heart and zeal that Rebel Ridge has in spades.