Ad Vitam

French cinema has spent decades trying to reconcile its high-brow, cigarette-smoke-and-philosophy soul with its low-brow, rubber-burning Luc Besson pulse. In the last few years, the pulse has been winning. We’ve seen a surge of gritty, tactical thrillers coming out of France—think Lost Bullet or AKA—that treat action with a grounded, bone-crunching reality. Ad Vitam (2025) is the latest entry in this "New French Extreme" of action-drama, and it finds Guillaume Canet trading in his sensitive auteur hat for a tactical vest and a very high-stakes grudge.

I watched this on a Tuesday afternoon while my neighbor was power-washing his driveway, and the constant, aggressive hum of his machine actually provided a weirdly perfect industrial soundtrack for the first thirty minutes. It heightened the tension in a way the sound designers probably didn’t intend, but hey, I’ll take the immersion where I can get it.

A Hero for the Algorithm Era

Released directly into the streaming maw, Ad Vitam is a fascinating example of how the mid-budget action movie has migrated from the multiplex to our living rooms. Ten years ago, a film like this—starring an A-lister like Guillaume Canet (Tell No One, The Program)—would have been a major theatrical event in Europe. Now, it arrives with a red "N" and a play button, competing for your attention against a billion TikToks and the lure of another Office rewatch.

The story doesn't reinvent the wheel: Franck Lazareff (Canet) is a former elite agent who has done the classic "retired to a quiet life" move. He’s got a pregnant wife, Manon (Zita Hanrot), and a house that probably has great insulation. Then, the past comes knocking—not with a polite tap, but with a home invasion that feels less like a movie scene and more like a panic attack. It’s a trope, sure, but director Rodolphe Lauga shoots it with such claustrophobic intensity that you forget you’ve seen this setup a dozen times before.

Crunch, Thud, and Tactical Precision

What separates Ad Vitam from your standard direct-to-video fodder is the craft. The action choreography here isn't about flashy "gun-fu" or gravity-defying stunts; it’s about the messy, desperate physics of a man who knows how to kill but is also getting older. Guillaume Canet isn't playing a superhero; he’s playing a guy who uses his environment like a weapon. There’s a sequence in a cramped apartment that is the cinematic equivalent of a triple-shot espresso served in a cracked mug. It’s bitter, it’s hot, and it wakes you the hell up.

The film benefits immensely from the presence of Nassim Lyes (Mayhem!, Under Paris). If you haven't been following Lyes, he is rapidly becoming the gold standard for modern screen combat. He brings a physical threat to the screen that feels genuinely dangerous. Between him and Alexis Manenti—who was so chilling in Les Misérables (2019)—the film has a high-octane villainous energy that keeps the stakes from feeling like a foregone conclusion. The stunt work is largely practical, which is a breath of fresh air in an era where CGI blood splatter has become the lazy industry standard. When a car hits a wall in this movie, you feel the suspension groan.

The Weight of the Past

While the action is the draw, Ad Vitam tries to squeeze in some genuine drama regarding Franck’s "painful past." This is where the screenplay—co-written by Canet and Lauga—gets a bit more conventional. We get the usual ruminations on whether a man can ever truly leave the violence behind, and Johan Heldenbergh pops up to provide some gravitas as Vanaken.

The film's runtime is a lean 97 minutes, which is a blessing. In a contemporary landscape where every superhero movie or historical epic feels the need to push three hours, a tight, sub-hundred-minute thriller is a mercy. It knows what it is: a high-tension delivery system. It doesn’t overstay its welcome, though I did find myself wishing the supporting characters, particularly Stéphane Caillard’s Leo, had a bit more room to breathe before the shooting started again.

Ad Vitam succeeds by leaning into the strengths of modern French genre filmmaking: high production value, a refusal to blink during the violent bits, and a lead actor who can actually act. It’s a film that knows its place in the streaming ecosystem—a polished, professional, and punchy thriller that respects your time. It might not be a "classic" in the traditional sense, but for a Friday night when you want to see Guillaume Canet dismantle a room full of bad guys to save his family, it hits every single mark. It’s a solid reminder that sometimes, the best way to handle the future is to hit the past with a very heavy object.