Carolina Caroline is a Crime Drama Centered on Love

How do you tell when you stop being good people pretending to be bad and realize you’re just bad people who can’t even trick themselves into thinking they’re anything but? Caroline (Samara Weaving) asks this aloud earlier than you might expect, considering the crime escapade she and new boyfriend Oliver (Kyle Gallner) enjoy commenced at her behest. She didn’t just take his advice and wonder why she’d never left the one place she’s ever known. She didn’t just reject the notion of staying because it’s safe. No, Caroline chose to meet those realities with the decision to become a full-blown outlaw because it made her feel truly alive.

Written by Tom Dean and directed by Adam Carter Rehmeier, Carolina Caroline plays on-screen as a love story first and foremost. It’s that sensibility which drew Rehmeier to the material, he and Dean working to turn a posher Oliver into the country western vagabond we see. We’re talking a love-at-first-sight romance, too––Caroline silently watches him scam her boss at the register while Oliver keeps looking over at her to make sure she’s paying attention. He likes her boldness to come out and demand the money he stole back. She likes that he complies with a smile before inexplicably dropping her name to stoke her intrigue further.

It’s all over after that. Even if we trick ourselves into thinking he’s conning her to get in her pants or wield the sort of control he admittedly loves, her ability to earnestly gives him a fright reveals he was always too far gone. Caroline had his heart; Oliver had her loyal tutelage. And she wanted to learn everything to prove to herself that she also had the capacity to wield that control. They might have gotten away with it if they were willing to stick to the script and live only for each other. But she can’t let her father’s (Jon Gries) love or her mother’s (Kyra Sedgwick) abandonment go. And he can’t refuse to give her what she needs.

Thus the only possible end is tragedy, and the filmmakers don’t try to hide it. They begin Carolina with Caroline stealing a man’s pickup at gunpoint alone before rewinding ten months to see a completely different young woman stocking shelves at a gas station when Oliver walks through the door. Cue the road-trip crash course in grifting and the electric chemistry of their tandem running amok with such expert precision that their crimes might somehow exude more sex appeal than their sex scenes. They feel invincible because they’re equals at the top of their game with nothing to lose… except each other. And there’s the rub.

We know what must happen for them to stay together. They do, too, if not for being their own personal blind spots. Oliver says it himself: When you know what it is a person lies to themselves about, you can make them do practically anything. We hear it in his voice every time he asks her, “Is that what you want?” He could stop it. He could manipulate her in order to save her and yet he follows her lead instead. It’s why destined heartbreak always seems inevitable in a good love story: what’s more romantic than relinquishing the wheel to your partner, even though you know it will probably be your own demise?

The same can be said the other way around––things get heavy well before they become insane. What begins as fun mistakes (the first bank robbery attempt carries an unforgettable punchline) eventually escalates into necessary shows of force. Is the anger and violence Oliver unleashes truly an act of survival like he says? Or is that what’s always been hiding beneath the charm, wholly imperceptible to Caroline’s love-struck eyes? We’re not surprised as things grow darker, but we feel hers like a punch to the gut every time. It’s a testament to the direction, editing, and performance. We want to believe in the dream.

Carolina Caroline is also very funny. Much of the humor disappears as things get dangerous (besides the final frame leaving us with a smile), but it’s very prevalent during the honeymoon period of their relationship. That’s when Gallner and Weaving’s chemistry is at its best. Because they aren’t making the audience laugh. We’re laughing with their effortless ability to tickle each other. It’s not surprising that the shift happens after Caroline finally confronts her estranged mother; in a powerful scene contrasting the undying love we’ve experienced, Sedgwick becomes the only one laughing (onscreen and off).

More Dinner in America than Snack Shack, but it’s not quite that either. Rehmeier has found a way to traverse different genres while maintaining an authentic, honest mix of comedy and drama. He’s unafraid to go for the big laugh, regardless of subject matter, yet knows when to hit the emotion hard. Because we need that balance to be genuinely entertained while still feeling like something of substance occurred. If his characters’ actions may look flippant on the surface, that’s only because they never quite know what they don’t know until there’s no avoiding it. Gallner is great at lifting that veil. Weaving devastates by having no other choice but to look.

Carolina Caroline premiered at TIFF 2025.