Army of Thieves

I spent the first twenty minutes of Army of Thieves squinting at the background of every frame, waiting for a rotting, grey-skinned face to lurch into view. It’s a prequel to Zack Snyder’s Army of the Dead, after all. But as the minutes ticked by, I realized I wasn't watching a horror movie. I was watching a whimsical, Euro-chic heist flick that just happens to have a zombie apocalypse playing out on the news in the background. It’s a bit like watching a romantic comedy set during the fall of Rome, where the characters are more worried about their hair than the barbarians at the gate.

I watched this on a rainy Tuesday while eating a bowl of cereal that had gone slightly soggy because I got distracted by the opening credits, and honestly, that’s the exact energy this movie demands. It’s "rainy day" cinema—comforting, stylish, and just a little bit silly.

The Caffeinated Golden Retriever

The soul of the film is Matthias Schweighöfer, who pulls double duty as the director and the lead, Ludwig Dieter. If you saw the original Army of the Dead, you know Dieter as the high-strung safe cracker who brought a much-needed dose of levity to the desert. Here, we see him as Sebastian (before his name change), a lonely bank teller in Germany who spends his nights making YouTube videos about legendary safes that absolutely nobody watches.

When a mysterious woman named Gwendoline (Nathalie Emmanuel, bringing her usual poise and a very sharp leather jacket) recruits him into a crew of international criminals, Sebastian is less interested in the money and more interested in the "Ring Cycle"—a legendary quartet of safes designed by a man named Hans Wagner.

Schweighöfer plays Sebastian like a caffeinated golden retriever who accidentally wandered into a Guy Ritchie set. He’s breathless, anxious, and genuinely delighted by the mechanics of a good tumbler. It’s a refreshing change from the "cool, brooding thief" archetype. He’s not cool. He’s a nerd with a stethoscope, and I found myself rooting for him way more than I usually do for the lantern-jawed protagonists of modern action cinema.

A Heist with a High-End Soundtrack

One of the most surprising things about Army of Thieves is its obsession with opera. The safes are named after Richard Wagner’s operas—Das Rheingold, Die Walküre, Siegfried, and Götterdämmerung—and the movie treats the act of safe-cracking like a spiritual experience. There are these beautiful internal CGI shots of the tumblers falling into place, accompanied by a score by Hans Zimmer and Steve Mazzaro that makes a bank robbery feel like a religious epiphany.

The rest of the crew is a collection of heist tropes polished to a high contemporary sheen. There’s the "action hero" boyfriend, Brad Cage, played by Stuart Martin. Martin looks so much like Hugh Jackman that I spent three separate scenes checking my phone to see if they were related. His character name is literally a mashup of Brad Pitt and Nicolas Cage, which tells you exactly how much the film wants to poke fun at the genre’s machismo. Then you’ve got Ruby O. Fee as the edgy hacker Korina and Guz Khan as the getaway driver Rolph, who provides some of the best dry humor in the script.

The heist itself is mostly just an excuse for a very expensive-looking European vacation. We hop from Paris to Prague to the Swiss Alps, and the cinematography by Bernhard Jasper is crisp and vibrant. It avoids the murky, desaturated "zombie palette" of the first film, opting instead for warm golds and deep blues. It feels like a movie made by people who really missed traveling during the pandemic.

Streaming Era Expansion

Released in late 2021, Army of Thieves is a fascinating artifact of the "content universe" strategy. Netflix wasn't just releasing a movie; they were building an "Army-verse." It’s an interesting gamble—taking a side character from a blockbuster and giving them a movie in a completely different genre. It works here because it doesn't take itself too seriously. It acknowledges the absurdity of its existence. There’s a scene where the characters literally discuss heist movie tropes while they're in the middle of a heist.

However, at 127 minutes, it does feel the "streaming bloat." In a theater, you might feel the length during the middle act when the romantic tension between Sebastian and Gwendoline starts to drag. On a sofa, though? It’s perfectly paced for a casual viewing. It doesn’t demand your total, undivided attention for every second, but it rewards you with some genuinely clever set pieces when you do look up from your phone.

The film manages to be a prequel that stands entirely on its own. You don’t need to know anything about the Las Vegas zombie outbreak to enjoy the tension of a man trying to crack a safe while a French detective (Jonathan Cohen) breathes down his neck. In fact, it’s arguably a much tighter and more charming film than the movie that spawned it.

Army of Thieves is a delightful, low-stakes romp that succeeds on the sheer charisma of its lead and the elegance of its production design. It doesn't reinvent the wheel—or the tumbler—but it spins them with enough style to keep you entertained. It’s the kind of movie that reminds me why I enjoy the streaming era: occasionally, a weird, niche idea like "Wagnerian safe-cracking comedy" actually gets the budget it needs to look spectacular. If you’re looking for a fun way to kill two hours without having to worry about the deep lore of a cinematic universe, this is a safe bet. Just ignore the zombies; they’re just there for the brand.