Lift

I watched Lift on a Tuesday evening while eating a bowl of slightly burnt popcorn, and honestly, the char on the kernels had more bite than the movie's actual stakes. There is a specific kind of comfort in the "Netflix Original Action Movie"—a genre that has become the cinematic equivalent of a warm hug from a stranger who is clearly trying to pick your pocket. You know exactly what you’re getting: high-gloss cinematography, a cast that looks like they’re perpetually walking toward a private jet, and a plot that feels like it was written by an AI that was fed a steady diet of Ocean’s Eleven and Fast & Furious sequels.

The Streaming Era's Shiny New Toy

Lift arrives at a fascinating moment in our current cinematic landscape. We are firmly in the era of "content" dominance, where movies aren't just stories; they’re engagement metrics. Following in the footsteps of Red Notice and The Gray Man, Lift is designed to be consumed. It doesn't demand your full attention; it politely asks for it while you fold laundry or scroll through TikTok. Directed by F. Gary Gray—who previously gave us the fantastic Set It Off and the slick Italian Job remake—the film has the pedigree of a top-tier heist flick. But in the transition to the streaming-first model, something feels like it got lost in the cloud.

The premise is pure high-concept fun: a crew of international thieves is blackmailed by the government into stealing $500 million in gold bullion from a passenger plane mid-flight. Why? To prevent the gold from reaching a terrorist hacker played by Jean Reno. It’s the kind of logic that only exists in movies where everyone owns a $4,000 leather jacket. For contemporary audiences, this is the ultimate "vibe" movie. It trades in the currency of luxury—Venice, private jets, high-tech gadgets—and asks us to simply enjoy the view from 40,000 feet.

A Cast in Search of a Script

The real curiosity here is Kevin Hart. For years, we’ve known him as the high-energy, fast-talking comedic foil. In Lift, he tries something different: the suave, romantic lead. As Cyrus Whitaker, he’s meant to be the George Clooney of the group—the man with the plan and the perfectly tailored blazer. It’s an ambitious pivot, but I found myself missing the chaotic energy that usually makes him a star. He’s playing it so straight that he occasionally feels like he’s acting through a thick layer of green-screen-induced boredom.

Thankfully, the supporting cast brings some much-needed flavor. Gugu Mbatha-Raw plays Abby, the Interpol agent who (naturally) has a romantic history with Cyrus. She’s far better than the material requires, grounded and professional even when the plot asks her to do things that defy international law. Then there’s Vincent D'Onofrio as Denton, a master of disguise who seems to be having the most fun of anyone on screen, sporting a series of eccentric hats and a bewildered expression.

The crew is rounded out by Úrsula Corberó (the pilot), Billy Magnussen (the safe-cracker), and Yun Jee Kim (the tech expert). It’s a diverse, attractive ensemble that checks every box for a global streaming release, yet they rarely get enough screen time to feel like a cohesive family. Úrsula Corberó, fresh off her iconic role in Money Heist, feels like a meta-nod to the genre, but the film doesn't give her nearly enough to do besides looking cool in a cockpit.

Gravity Is Just a Suggestion

When it comes to the action, F. Gary Gray knows how to stage a sequence, but the heavy reliance on CGI in the final act drains the tension. The central heist involves a "stealth" private jet flying underneath a commercial airliner—a sequence that looks expensive but lacks the physical weight of practical stunt work. In an era where Mission: Impossible has us watching Tom Cruise actually jump off cliffs, the pixel-heavy skydiving in Lift feels a bit hollow.

The film's best moments are actually the smaller ones: the initial auction heist in Venice and the clever way the crew "lifts" the gold using specialized magnets. These scenes show flashes of the ingenuity that made Gray’s earlier work so memorable. However, the climax leans so hard into virtual production and LED volume technology that it begins to look like a very high-end video game cutscene. There’s a lack of "clutter" in the frame—everything is too clean, too perfect, and therefore, a bit lifeless.

The sound design, however, deserves a shout-out. The hum of the jet engines and the clinking of the gold bars are crisp and satisfying, especially if you’re watching with a decent home theater setup. The score by Dominic Lewis hits all the right "heist movie" notes—jaunty, percussive, and propulsive—keeping the momentum going even when the dialogue hits a lull.

Ultimately, Lift is the cinematic equivalent of a room-temperature glass of water. It’s refreshing in the moment, it does exactly what it needs to do, but you won't remember a single sip of it twenty minutes later. It’s a testament to the current state of franchise-adjacent filmmaking: perfectly competent, visually glossy, and fundamentally safe. If you're looking for a fun, low-impact way to spend 100 minutes on a Friday night, you could certainly do worse, but don't expect it to linger in your memory like the heist classics it so desperately wants to emulate.