Inheritance

If I discovered my father was a top-tier international spy, my first reaction wouldn’t be to grab a tactical vest and start decoding encrypted hard drives; it would be an intense interrogation regarding why he couldn’t use those elite surveillance skills to find the TV remote. But for Maya Welch, played with a frantic, wide-eyed intensity by Phoebe Dynevor, the revelation that her dad was a ghost in the machine of global espionage is less of a punchline and more of a death sentence.

I watched Inheritance on a Tuesday evening while nursing a lukewarm cup of Earl Grey that I’d accidentally over-steeped until it tasted like liquefied bark, and honestly, the bitterness suited the mood. This is Neil Burger’s latest entry into the "slick thriller" canon, and while it doesn't quite hit the heights of his work on The Illusionist or the caffeine-fueled frenzy of Limitless, it occupies a very specific niche in our current cinema landscape: the high-gloss, mid-budget streamer that feels like it’s auditioning to be a franchise starter.

The Dynevor Evolution and the Spy-Next-Door

We’ve spent the last few years watching Phoebe Dynevor navigate the polite, suffocating drawing rooms of Bridgerton, but Inheritance feels like her official bid for action-hero status. She’s Maya, a woman whose life is a series of predictable milestones until her father, Sam (Rhys Ifans), drops the bombshell of his true profession before vanishing into the shadows of a conspiracy.

Dynevor is excellent at looking like a person who is genuinely out of her depth. In an era where every protagonist seems to have "innate" John Wick skills the moment they pick up a pistol, Maya’s struggle feels authentic. She’s sweaty, she’s terrified, and she’s clumsy. Watching her try to navigate a high-stakes standoff is like watching a toddler try to solve a Rubik's Cube while being chased by wolves. It’s that vulnerability that keeps the first half of the film grounded before the script demands she become a fast-learning prodigy.

Rhys Ifans, meanwhile, continues his streak of being the most interestingly weathered man in Hollywood. After his turn in House of the Dragon, he brings a certain "tired-of-the-lies" gravity to Sam. He doesn't play the spy as a suave Bond type; he plays him as a man who has lived in the damp corners of history and has the cough to prove it. The chemistry between the two is the film’s strongest asset, even when the plot starts to lean into some fairly well-worn thriller tropes.

A Modern Thriller for a Paranoid Age

Director Neil Burger has always had a knack for making digital cinematography look like expensive silk. Along with cinematographer Jackson Hunt, he gives Inheritance a cold, sharp aesthetic that screams "modern surveillance state." There’s a lot of glass, a lot of blue-grey color palettes, and a lot of scenes where characters stare intensely at tablet screens. It captures that 2025 anxiety perfectly—the feeling that we’re all being watched, but we’re not quite sure if the person watching us is a hero or a data miner.

The screenplay, co-written by Burger and Olen Steinhauer, tries to weave a complex web of international intrigue, involving characters like Khalil Jamal (Majd Eid) and Doug (Byron Clohessy). It touches on the current cultural fascination with "nepo-babies," though in this case, the inheritance isn't a film career or a trust fund, but a set of lethal liabilities. It’s a clever spin on the "sins of the father" motif that has dominated dramas for decades, updated for a generation that feels like they’re inheriting a world already on fire.

However, the film does struggle with what I call "streaming bloat." At 101 minutes, it’s not overly long, but there are stretches in the second act where the momentum stalls. It’s as if the movie is afraid to let the audience breathe, filling every gap with exposition that we’ve heard in dozens of other spy films. Turns out, Neil Burger and Steinhauer initially envisioned this as a more contained psychological piece, but the scale expanded during production to satisfy the demand for "international stakes." You can occasionally feel that tug-of-war between a character study and a global thriller.

The "Hidden Gem" in the Algorithm

Inheritance is the kind of film that risks getting buried under the sheer volume of content on digital platforms. It’s a "Friday night movie"—the kind of solid, dependable entertainment that provides a thrill without demanding you memorize a wiki’s worth of lore. While it doesn't reinvent the wheel, it rolls the wheel very smoothly.

One of the more interesting behind-the-scenes tidbits involves the training Dynevor underwent. Rather than just learning choreography, she reportedly spent time with actual intelligence consultants to understand the "psychology of the lie." You can see it in her performance; it’s less about the kicks and more about the way she shifts her gaze when she's trying to manipulate a situation.

Is it an instant classic? No. But in a marketplace saturated with superhero sequels and legacy reboots, there’s something refreshing about a standalone thriller that relies on tension and performance rather than a $200 million CGI budget. It’s a reminder that sometimes, all you need for a good time is a capable lead, a grizzled mentor, and a secret that could topple a government.

Inheritance is a sleek, competent thriller that serves as a fantastic showcase for Phoebe Dynevor’s range beyond period dramas. While it occasionally trips over its own conspiracy-laden feet, the central performances and Neil Burger’s stylish direction make it a worthy watch for anyone craving a bit of cinematic paranoia. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a solid paperback thriller you’d find at an airport—perfectly paced for the journey, even if you don’t remember every plot point by the time you land.