The Misfits

Pierce Brosnan’s hair remains one of the most reliable special effects in Hollywood. Even in a desert sandstorm, every silver strand stays perfectly choreographed, which is more than I can say for the actual heist in The Misfits. Watching this 2021 action-caper feels like finding a glossy, unread travel magazine in a doctor’s waiting room; it’s bright, expensive-looking, and you’ll forget every single page the moment you’re called into the office. I watched this while wearing a pair of itchy wool socks I’d just bought, and the prickling sensation on my ankles was honestly more gripping than the film’s attempt at a double-cross.

Released during that strange, hazy middle-period of the pandemic, The Misfits is a fascinating artifact of the modern "content" era. It’s a film that exists because international co-productions and streaming platforms need "star-led" vehicles to fill out their tiles, even if the engine under the hood is missing a few pistons. It stars Brosnan as Richard Pace, a world-class thief who gets broken out of a high-security prison—only to be recruited by a band of modern-day Robin Hoods who want to steal a massive cache of gold from a private prison run by a terrorist-funding sleazebag played by Tim Roth.

The Desert’s Eleven

Director Renny Harlin, the man who once gave us the high-altitude thrills of Cliffhanger and the sheer popcorn joy of Deep Blue Sea, seems to be operating in "vacation mode" here. The film is set almost entirely in Abu Dhabi, and the cinematography by Denis Alarkon-Ramires treats the city like a high-end real estate brochure. Everything is sun-drenched, saturated, and slightly too clean. It has that distinct 2020s streaming aesthetic where the budget is clearly visible on screen in the form of luxury cars and sweeping drone shots, yet it lacks the lived-in texture that makes a heist feel dangerous.

The team itself—the titular "Misfits"—is a mixed bag of modern archetypes. We have Jamie Chung as Violet, who handles the martial arts duties with a professional coolness, and Rami Jaber as The Prince. Then there’s Nick Cannon as Ringo, who also provides a snarky, fourth-wall-breaking narration that tries way too hard to convince us we’re having a good time. Nick Cannon’s character feels less like a master thief and more like a guy who accidentally wandered onto the set from a sneaker commercial. His narration is supposed to give the film a Guy Ritchie-esque energy, but instead, it just highlights how thin the actual plot is. The editing has the attention span of a squirrel on espresso, cutting away from the action just as it starts to get interesting to show us another shot of a sparkling skyscraper.

A Glitzy Mirage in the Streaming Desert

For an action film, the set pieces are strangely weightless. Harlin still knows how to frame a shot, but the "Contemporary Cinema" problem of over-reliance on digital augmentation creeps in. When things explode, they explode with that unmistakable CGI orange glow that lacks the punch of the practical pyrotechnics Harlin used back in the Die Hard 2 days. There is a car chase involving some very expensive vehicles that should be exhilarating, but the clarity of the action is sacrificed for "cool" camera angles.

What’s interesting about The Misfits in the context of our current era is its sheer anonymity. Despite having a former James Bond and a veteran director, the film essentially vanished upon release. Part of this was due to the fractured distribution of the 2021 landscape, but part of it was a bizarre political controversy. The film was actually banned in Qatar because of its negative portrayal of the country (disguised as "Jazeeristan" in the film) and its alleged funding of certain groups. This real-world drama is arguably more complex than anything in the script. It’s a reminder that even "mindless" action movies are now part of a globalized, politically sensitive market where a choice in filming locations can determine if a movie even gets a theatrical window.

The Harlin Touch and the Missing Hype

If you’re a fan of Tim Roth, you might find some amusement in his performance as the villainous Schultz. He plays the role with a sneering, "I’m just here for the paycheck" energy that actually fits the character quite well. Tim Roth and Brosnan have a few scenes together that hint at a better movie—two old pros leaning into their archetypes with a wink and a nod. But these moments are fleeting. Most of the runtime is dedicated to a heist plan that involves a lot of "hacking" (which in modern movies just means people typing fast while looking at green progress bars) and a truly absurd sequence involving a massive amount of laxatives.

Ultimately, The Misfits is a "comfort watch" for people who don't want to be comforted, just distracted. It’s a "Dad Movie" for the streaming age—something you put on while you're folding laundry or, in my case, trying to ignore your socks. It doesn't strive for the legacy of The Italian Job or the slickness of Ocean's Eleven; it just wants to occupy 94 minutes of your time with images of beautiful people in a beautiful desert. There’s a certain honesty in that, even if the script feels like it was written by an AI that was fed a steady diet of 2000s music videos.

The film serves as a perfect example of how the mid-budget action movie has evolved—or devolved—into a polished, low-stakes commodity. It’s not a disaster, and it’s certainly not boring enough to turn off, but it lacks the soul that Renny Harlin used to bring to his projects. If you find yourself scrolling through a streaming service on a Tuesday night and you see Pierce Brosnan’s smirking face, by all means, give it a go. Just don't expect to remember the ending by Wednesday morning. It’s a golden heist that leaves behind nothing but sand.