Intriguing Mercy ultimately falters
Smacking of Steven Spielberg’s overlooked masterpiece Minority Report, Timur Bekmambetov’s Mercy also features a law enforcement officer trapped in a legal system he helped create, trying desperately to prove his innocence. At the heart of the Tom Cruise feature were questions of free will and predetermination. Here, the script from writer Marco van Belle, is more a straight-forward police procedural, and a rather static one at that, what with most of the action taking place in a futuristic courtroom, lorded over by a looming AI judge. And while it contains occasionally inspired plot twists and keeps our attention during its first two acts, the decision to opt for a by-the-numbers, action-based ending clearly signals the writer ran out of inspiration before reaching the finish line.
A conservative’s nightmare come true, the year 2029 is a time of great upheaval and rampant violence. The solution is an automated justice system dubbed Mercy, a one-stop judicial shop in which Judge Maddox (Rebecca Ferguson, slumming) presides. This AI construct, borrowing its aesthetic from the Wizard of Oz, appears as a massive hologram, looming over the accused. She (it?) serves as judge, jury and executioner, having already efficiently dispatched 18 wrongdoers after a 90-minute trial. While appearing in front of her, the defendant is strapped to a chair and is tasked with proving themselves innocent before the clock winds down. If they fail, their death comes quick.
Those who stand accused have access to every single piece of digital data at Maddox’s disposal. Security camera footage, phone records, internet files and any other electronic record that exists can be pulled up. The 19th defendant, officer Chris Raven (Chris Pratt), is going to need every bit of this information and a bit more to prove his innocence. You see, he’s been charged with killing his wife and waking up after being blackout drunk, he doesn’t remember a thing.
Hitchcock got a lot of mileage out of the “wrong man” scenario, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he would have done with this premise. Playing out in real time, Bekmambetov keeps the story humming along and the viewer hooked as well, no mean feat what with his leading man trapped in a chair and only his counterpart’s face on screen most of the time.
Credit Pratt for giving an engaging, reactive performance, displaying vulnerability, anger, desperation and grief in equally convincing measures. As for Ferguson, she does what she can, though she’s severely limited where being emotive is concerned. Her character’s limited emotional range leaves her with the option of either issuing a stern warning or measured instructions. Why Bekmambetov didn’t cast Tilly Norwood, the recently created AI actress, in this part seems like a missed opportunity. Could have been a breakthrough role …
As Raven has Maddox call up video footage, drone cameras, e-mail records and a myriad other pieces of electronic evidence, his troubled history comes to light, the many revelations, intriguing. Going an entire hour before I checked the time is a testament as to how engrossed I was by it all.
However, one twist too many during the rote final 30 minutes steals the movie of most of its impact. Figuring out who’s pulling all the strings behind the curtain isn’t that difficult. And resorting to the laziness of using a car chase and no-holds barred action finale proves all the more disappointing after such a promising beginning.
Still, as a cautionary tale, Mercy is effective, though at times heavy handed. Warnings concerning our dependency on new technology have always been brushed aside in the pursuit of “progress.” Our relationship with AI will not be any different, its benefits eventually nullified by its drawbacks. The true fiction in movies such as Mercy and Report is their characters actually take heed of the flaws that are exposed and then rein in their respective constructs. If, only … In Theaters.
Hawk fails to soar
Grieving is a very personal experience. Some are very open about it; others wish to do so in private. Still others live in denial and push it aside, only to have it overcome them at the most unexpected of times. As such, unless someone is else is harmed as a result, no judgement should not be passed on those trying to come to terms with the loss of a loved one. Coping with a life-changing events such as this is a solitary journey, one often riddled with setbacks and minute periods of progress.
Philippa Lowthorpe’s adaptation of Helen MacDonald’s memoir H is for Hawk, examines the author’s struggles with the loss of her beloved father. The film struggles mightily but ultimately fails to engage the viewer. Appropriately somber in tone, it never allows us access to its heroine’s true intent, a fatal approach that keeps the viewer at arm’s distance. As a result, we’ve never able to connect with her, the character’s ultimate catharsis a singular, rather than vicarious, experience.
Once they reach a certain age, the passing of our parents is always in the back of our minds. Still, MacDonald (Claire Foy), a professor at Cambridge, is stunned when she’s told of the passing of her beloved father, Alisdair (Brendan Gleeson). A respected photojournalist, he was a man with many interests, among them, apparently falconry. I say apparently, as this is mentioned in passing and referenced in one of the many flashbacks we’re privy to which explains their relationship.
I bring up this point because the bulk of the film concerns MacDonald’s decision to adopt and train a Eurasian goshawk. A notoriously difficult bird, it proves to be a trial to bond with the animal, let alone instruct it. The movie is at its best during these moments and could have benefited from many more. Frankly, the bird, dubbed Mabel, is far more dynamic than MacDonald, its attempts to acclimate to its new surroundings and owner are filled with tension and wonder.
Lowthorpe seems to know this. The opening credits are a wonder, consisting of close-ups of Mabel’s feathers and features, allowing us to take in the complex nature of its physiology. Something we would likely take for granted is rendered so we can appreciate the marvel it is and serves to explain MacDonald’s fascination with these creatures. Equally compelling are the hunting sequences in which we see Mabel in action, her majestic and predatory qualities on full display.
As such, I would have appreciated more information on goshawks and the purpose of falconry, rather than the cursory nuggets we’re given. And as to how seeing a bird of prey repeatedly rip apart rabbits leads to coming to terms with the death of your father, I’m clueless. To each their own. If this were an activity they did often in their past, this should have been explained. If not, a revelatory moment from MacDonald would have been welcome.
Equally problematic is that not only is Mabel more interesting than MacDonald, but so is her father. A passionate, dynamic man of diverse interests, we see some of his photographs at his wake. A witness to history with a keen eye of capturing the magnificent and the mundane, his work suggests a man with many fascinating stories to tell. Frankly, I’d rather have heard them. In the end, Hawk fails in not focusing on a compelling protagonist, either avian or human. That it’s incapable of providing us with a complete portrait of MacDonald ultimately prevents it from taking flight. In Theaters.
Clever Rip keeps you guessing
Tattooed on the curve between Detective Dane Dumars’ thumb and index finger is “A.W.T.G.G?” When asked what it means, he replies “Are we the good guys?” This is a question he and the other members of his special unit in the Miami police force ask each other and themselves every day. The group of swaggering, cynical, burnt-out cops are poorly paid, endure long hours, shown little gratitude and are under constant surveillance. As such, when the opportunity to abscond with $20 million in drug money presents itself, can they really be blamed for keeping a bit, if not all of it for themselves?
Such is the set up for Joe Carnahan’s The Rip, a gritty cop thriller that will have viewers posing the question on Dumars’ hand throughout. Just who we’re supposed to root for and if we should sympathize with this motley crew is in flux from the first moment to the last. The filmmaker pushes the “anti” in anti-hero to the limit.
The brutal killing of Captain Jackie Velez (Lina Esco) by two masked gunmen sets things in motion. As the head of the Tactical Narcotics Team, her underlings, including Dumars (Matt Damon) and her lover Detective Byrne (Ben Affleck), are at loss as to how to proceed. They don’t have much time to think about it, as soon after they get a tip that large stash of drug money is being stored in a residential neighborhood. Upon checking it out, the group – which also includes Detectives Ro (Steven Yeun), Baptiste (Teyanna Taylor) and Salazar (Catalina Sandino Moreno) – find over $20 million in ill-gotten gains neatly counted and cleverly stored. The inhabitant of the house, Desi (Sasha Calle), claims this is her recently deceased grandmother’s home and she has no idea where the money came from or who put it there.
This is the first of MANY lies told by the characters in Michael McGrale and Carnahan’s fact-based script, which surprisingly develops into an intimate portrait of deception and honor. Taking place largely in the not-so-safe house, this could easily be adapted into a stage play. As such, the tight confines play a role in the tension that forms between the characters. Mistrust takes root and runs rampant when Dumars and Byrne have intense conversations just out of earshot of the others, while past instances in which small lies or slights occurred suddenly loom large in their paranoid minds.
A riff on The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, the film becomes something of a character study, as each officer questions not only their co-workers’ motives and intent, but their own. The reasons Baptiste and Salazar voice regarding pocketing just a bit of the cash are morally sound enough in their world of gray to justify their pocketing a few bucks. And what with the personal losses all of them have endured, would it be so wrong for these public servants to be made whole, at least financially?
That we come to sympathize with them is a tribute to the veteran cast’s efforts and the smart script. While the film gets bogged down a bit by two extended action sequences, its clever narrative switchbacks soon push them to the side. Once the third-act reveal occurs and we’re privy to the real reason behind this house call, you’ll likely give Carnahan and his crew of tip of the hat. Smartly executed, The Rip’s plot twists hold water, putting all that’s come prior in a different perspective, revealing just who the “good guys” are, a label increasingly hard to uphold in its dark world of pain and temptation. Streaming on Netflix.
This article appears in January 22 – 26, 2026.
