Alec Baldwin's Rust opens in limited theaters this Friday after years of legal turmoil and emotional fallout from the fatal shooting of cinematographer Halyna Hutchins.
The film industry is witnessing an unusual event this week: the release of Rust, the Alec Baldwin-led Western embroiled in controversy since the tragic death of cinematographer Halyna Hutchins on set in 2021. Opening quietly in select theaters this Friday, Rust is being released alongside an on-demand distribution on platforms such as Amazon Prime Video. Despite the low-profile rollout, the circumstances surrounding its production ensure that the film is anything but unnoticed.
Directed by Joel Souza, who was also injured in the same on-set incident, the movie represents a symbolic attempt to honor Hutchins’ final work. According to The Guardian, Souza noted he initially couldn’t envision completing the film but was urged to do so by Hutchins’ family, who viewed the project as a tribute. It’s a decision that continues to divide audiences and critics alike.
A Release Shadowed by Grief and Controversy
The promotional campaign for Rust has been nearly nonexistent. Neither Alec Baldwin nor the core cast has participated in major press rounds. This deliberate silence coincides with a calculated release strategy that completely omits showings in major film markets like New York City and limits screenings in Los Angeles. According to Fandango, this restricted rollout is a result of efforts to both minimize media frenzy and maximize potential financial benefit for Hutchins’ family, who reportedly receive a portion of the film’s profits.
Premiered at Poland’s Camerimage Festival in 2024, a gathering that celebrates excellence in cinematography, the film is dedicated to Hutchins. Her name appears second in the credits, displayed in both English and Ukrainian as a nod to her heritage. In the words of USA TODAY‘s Brian Truitt, the film “finds beauty amid tragedy,” with praise especially directed at the work of Hutchins and cinematographer Bianca Cline, who stepped in to complete the project.
Critical Response: A Visual Tribute or Painful Reminder?
Reception to Rust has been polarized. While a few reviewers acknowledged its cinematographic beauty, the narrative and acting received harsh criticism. The Guardian called the movie a “tough slog,” arguing it offers little beyond showcasing Hutchins’ talent behind the camera. Meanwhile, The Daily Beast‘s Nick Schager emphasized the uncomfortable abundance of gun imagery, calling it a constant reminder of the irreversible tragedy that haunts the film.
Perhaps the most damning review comes from The New York Times, which described Rust as a “deeply depressing coda to an appalling and entirely preventable tragedy.” However, even within these criticisms, there’s consistent recognition of Hutchins’ contribution and a shared understanding of why her family supported completing the film. Despite its artistic limitations, Rust has become a public eulogy, wrapped in ethical complexity.
Legal Aftershocks Still Unfolding
While Rust attempts a posthumous celebration of Hutchins’ legacy, the legal ramifications persist. Alec Baldwin, who held the prop gun that discharged, has seen his involuntary manslaughter charges dismissed and refiled multiple times, most recently dropped due to prosecutorial misconduct. Nevertheless, civil cases loom large.
Three crew members have filed lawsuits alleging physical and emotional harm. Hutchins’ family has already settled one wrongful death suit and is actively pursuing another case, which includes a scheduled deposition of Baldwin on May 9. As The Hollywood Reporter highlighted, Gloria Allred, lawyer for the family, insists it’s “long overdue” for Baldwin to testify.
Meanwhile, the film’s armorer, Hannah Gutierrez-Reed, was sentenced to 18 months in prison after being found guilty of involuntary manslaughter. These developments serve as a backdrop to Rust’s release, a film that now carries the weight of unfinished justice as much as it does cinematic ambition.
For many, the central question remains: Can a film born of tragedy ever escape its shadow, or is its legacy permanently etched in sorrow?
