Dir: James Hawes | Cast: Rami Malek, Lawrence Fishburne, Rachel Brosnahan, Jon Bernal, Evan Milton | US Thriller 123′
by: Ian Long
The word ‘amateur’ has more than one meaning. The most common refers to someone who has a low-level grasp of some pursuit, and as a result turns out inferior work. But the original definition – derived from the Latin amare, or amour in French – applies to someone who is motivated by love.
Even if his actions don’t always bear it out, love is the main motivation of Charles Heller, the protagonist of James Hawes‘ entertaining thriller. Or at least, he thinks it is. The story is a kind of violent meditation on our responses to grief, and as Rami Malek‘s grieving character wends his brutal way towards a fleeting but significant alliance with a similarly bereaved person, his motives are called into question.
By trade, Heller is a decryption expert at the George Bush Center for Intelligence in Langley, Virginia, also known as CIA headquarters. Immersed in his work, outstandingly brilliant, he’s inevitably privy to details about all kinds of dubious geopolitical goings-on. Then, early in the story, his wife is killed by a violent gang (whose nature occupies some murky middle-ground between mercenaries and terrorists).
When his bosses refuse to target the perpetrators directly, Heller leverages information channelled to him by a shadowy informant to strong-arm them into training him up as an assassin. The CIA brass reluctantly hand him on to no-nonsense veteran Henderson, played by gruff, stoic Laurence Fishburne, who wistfully notes that, unlike himself, Heller lacks the killer instinct – a talent which just can’t be taught. You’ve either got it, or you haven’t.
Henderson’s opinion seems borne out by Heller’s faltering first attempt to murder a gang member in picturesque Paris. Despite Heller’s qualms, the mission succeeds (if a bit fortuitously), and he’s off – hunting down the other gang members as he treks around various interestingly-shot European cities, with only his 170 percentile (connoting ‘extraordinarily gifted’) IQ to declare at customs.
Positioning a cadre of crack international soldiers-of-fortune as a multi-headed collective adversary is a useful way to create an enemy without putting the finger on any specific nationality. Something similar was done in John Frankenheimer’s Ronin, although the viewer of that film was embedded with the gang and theoretically rooting for its de facto leader, a dour Robert de Niro, rather than egging on its gradual extermination.
The idea of a renegade avenger killing his way up a criminal organisation’s chain-of-command inevitably calls John Boorman’s Point Blank to mind, but Heller is a far cry from Walker, Lee Marvin’s unstoppable, blank-eyed Übermensch in that film. Malek’s character is tiny, frail, and vulnerable-looking, and his huge, troubled eyes and sensitive mouth seem specifically tooled to express anguish and regret.
Nevertheless, the closer he gets to the organisation’s capo, the more robust negligence Heller displays towards the collateral effects of his actions – something which should, and ultimately does, make his mentor Henderson proud. The trail of destruction leads to some thrilling moments, and one of these has a shocking beauty which is alone worth the price of a ticket.
Malek has clearly thrown himself into his role whole-heartedly, and he projects more genuine pathos than is usually found in thrillers. He’s helped by a solid supporting cast, including a touching Caitríona Balfe. But best of all is Michael Stuhlbarg, whose silky, elocuted menace as a top-tier villain makes a powerful impression. It’s just a pity that the narrative (apparently crafted by ten separate people, including the director and credited screenwriters Ken Nolan and Gary Spinelli) doesn’t allow him more screen time. @IanLong
IN UK CINEMAS FROM 11 APRIL 2025