Tomb Raider

There is a specific moment in the 2018 reboot of Tomb Raider where Alicia Vikander is dangling from the rusted, skeletal wing of a World War II bomber precariously balanced over a thundering waterfall. She isn't doing the "superhero pose" or cracking a wise-guy quip. She is panting, her skin is a roadmap of abrasions, and she looks genuinely terrified that her grip—and her career as an adventurer—is about to end in a very messy splash. I watched this scene while my cat, Toby, was aggressively kneading my lap with his claws, and the combination of the on-screen tension and the literal sharp pains in my thigh made the "survival" aspect of the film feel uncomfortably immersive.

This isn’t the Lara Croft of the early 2000s. There’s no silver spandex or twin-pistol infinite-ammo cheat codes here. Instead, director Roar Uthaug (who caught my eye with the Norwegian disaster flick The Wave) gives us a Lara who starts the movie losing a kickboxing match and making ends meet as a bike courier in London. It’s a grounded, almost gritty approach to a character that had previously been a caricature. When she finally makes it to the island of Yamatai, she doesn’t arrive as a conqueror; she arrives as a victim of a shipwreck who has to learn, quite painfully, how to not die.

Survival is a Messy Business

The action choreography in this film is where it earns its keep. Unlike the frantic, "shaky-cam" chaos that infected a lot of post-Bourne action cinema, Uthaug and cinematographer George Richmond (who did some slick work on Kingsman: The Secret Service) keep the camera just steady enough for you to feel every impact. The stunts feel heavy. When Lara falls, she doesn't bounce; she breaks. Apparently, Alicia Vikander put on about 12 pounds of pure muscle for the role, training in MMA and rock climbing for months, and you can see it in the way she moves. She carries a bow and arrow not because it looks "cool" in a Katniss Everdeen way, but because it’s the only silent tool she can find to keep from being murdered.

One of my favorite sequences—and one that sparked plenty of "Easter egg" chatter among fans—is the escape through the jungle. It’s a sequence ripped almost frame-for-frame from the 2013 video game reboot, but it works as cinema because the stakes feel physical. Vikander performed many of her own stunts, including a scene where her hands were tied together while she was plunged into a fast-moving river. You can see the genuine shock of the cold water on her face. It’s that commitment to the "hurt" that makes this stand out in a decade saturated with bloodless, CGI-heavy superhero brawls.

A Villain with a Clock-Out Mentality

Then we have Walton Goggins as Mathias Vogel. If you’ve seen him in Justified or The Shield, you know he can do "charismatic psychopath" in his sleep. Here, he plays something much more interesting: a man who is just incredibly tired. Vogel has been stuck on this island for seven years, digging for a cursed tomb on behalf of a shadowy organization called Trinity, and he just wants to go home to his daughters. He doesn't want to rule the world; he just wants to finish his shift. Goggins once described the character as a man who has been "stuck on a Wednesday for seven years," and that weary, lethal frustration makes him a great foil for Lara’s youthful, frantic energy.

The plot itself is your standard "daddy issues" archeological hunt, involving Dominic West as Richard Croft, Lara’s missing father. While West is a fine actor, his subplot is where the movie occasionally stumbles into cliché. The script treats the legendary tomb like a high-budget escape room that Lara’s dad forgot to pay the rent on. There are floor tiles that collapse and color-coded puzzles that feel a bit too much like "Video Game Logic 101." However, the film is saved by its supporting cast, including Daniel Wu as Lu Ren, a drunken ship captain who ends up being the most relatable person in the entire franchise. Wu brings a much-needed groundedness to the second act, even if the script doesn't give him nearly enough to do.

The "Curse" That Wasn't Quite Broken

In the era of "IP dominance," Tomb Raider was a bit of an outlier. It didn't explode at the box office like an MCU entry, nor did it sink into the abyss like the 2016 Assassin's Creed. It sits in this strange middle ground of being a genuinely good action movie that people seem to have forgotten five minutes after leaving the theater. But lately, it’s found a bit of a cult following. Fans of the games appreciate the lack of "cheesiness," and action junkies have started to point toward it as a rare example of a modern blockbuster that values practical-feeling stunt work over digital spectacle.

The trivia surrounding the production is a testament to the "cult" effort. For instance, the waterfall sequence was actually filmed at a modified Olympic white-water rafting course in London, where they dropped Vikander into the churning water dozens of times to get the right shot. It’s that kind of "old school" effort in a "new school" franchise that keeps me coming back to it. Even if the ending—featuring Kristin Scott Thomas and a very specific pair of pistols—feels like a desperate plea for a sequel we never got, the journey to Yamatai is a ride worth taking.

Ultimately, Tomb Raider succeeds because it lets its hero be human. It doesn't ask us to admire Lara Croft’s perfection; it asks us to admire her endurance. It’s a film about the transition from a girl who is afraid of her own shadow to a woman who can survive a shipwreck, a mercenary army, and a supernatural curse, all while nursing a likely concussion. It’s not a masterpiece, but in an age of polished, plastic heroes, there’s something immensely satisfying about watching someone get muddy, get bruised, and keep moving anyway.