Presumed Innocent is Jake Gyllenhaal's most subtle work and yet his most terrifying one

Jake Gyllenhaal’s work in Presumed Innocent on Apple TV+ might strike viewers as understated in his career, marked by manic and intense performances like Nightcrawler, Prisoners, or Enemy. Beneath the seemingly calm surface, however, there is one of his most deeply unsettling psychologically driven performances. Playing Rusty Sabich, who is a leading prosecutor caught in an acute case of the murder of his ex-mistress and undergoing trial.

Gyllenhaal does not roar with rage—he simmers instead. And I would argue that makes him far more menacing. As for Scott Turow’s iconic legal thriller and David E. Kelley’s 2024 adaptation, it is the turn of Jake Gyllenhaal to flaunt his skills as an actor. The character of Rusty’s intersecting Gyllenhaal wields performance—his strongest weapon—not daggers.

Every interaction Rusty has, be it with his spouse and offspring, legal associates, or even himself, is embodied in duality, which Gyllenhaal ghostly sharpens. His dread is not operatic; rather, methodical, practiced, and positively cruel. Gyllenhaal’s subtlety brings a distinct menace to his portrayal.

As Rusty attempts to hold himself together, our suspicions rise concerning what is lurking underneath. This is someone who not only fears capture but perhaps more intensely fears being revealed. Gyllenhaal transforms that mute dread into something almost predatory, giving us a legal drama called Presumed Innocent, which also acts as a masterclass in psychological horror.

The horror of self-deception in a controlled smile

What is most frightening about Gyllenhaal’s Rusty Sabich is not the mere fact that he could be a murderer—it’s that perhaps he himself doesn’t even know. The series utilizes Rusty’s strikingly hazy flashbacks and shoddy recollections to craft the image of a person editing his story for years, slowly rewriting parts until he accepts the new narrative as the truth. Gyllenhaal embodies this fractured self with bone-chilling composure.

Rather than being found guilty in court, his portrayal of Rusty puts on a show. It is the last role, that of a grieving spouse struggling with the dual roles of a dedicated father and confident attorney, that evokes real disquiet. Assessing all three equally provides a view into something deeper, colder than guilt: sheer detachment. This isn’t a person battling truth; this is someone who has perhaps misplaced reality in its entirety. Gyllenhaal’s performance has never been more inward and internalized.

When silence screams: The women who see through him

A lot of the anxiety in Presumed Innocent comes from how Rusty’s view of the world is relentlessly contested by the women close to him, notably his wife Barbara, played by Ruth Negga. It's not that she sets the room on fire that makes her presence unnerving—it's that she simply watches. In Barbara’s silence, Rusty’s ego finds a shape to fill, and Gyllenhaal's responding panic is the reaction of a man whose mirror no longer flatters him.

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Even the sensation of a murder victim, Carolyn (Renate Reinsve), hovers as if she were a phantom—her essence evolving with every narrative Rusty recounts. Was she controlling or merely self-reliant? Was he love-struck or fixated? These questions remain unanswered, but Gyllenhaal’s portrayal implies that the real terror resides in the absence of understanding his choices to omit certain details.

Among a plethora of legal spectacles and ethical haziness in Presumed Innocent, perhaps the most horrifying reality is that this man’s worst offense was deluding himself into believing he had no guilt at all.

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